CHAPTER 27: HIS LOVE LANGUAGE IS FOOD
The smell of freshly baked cinnamon rolls dragged Ivy out of sleep before her alarm had a chance to ruin her morning.
Which was suspicious.
Deeply suspicious.
Nobody baked cinnamon rolls in this house.
Not her mother.
Not Grandma.
Definitely not the cat.
Half-awake and wearing pajamas that said I NEED COFFEE BEFORE PEOPLE, Ivy stumbled downstairs.
The moment she entered the kitchen, she froze.
Asher stood by the counter wearing a black T-shirt and gray sweatpants.
A flour-covered apron stretched across his broad chest.
A pink apron.
With cartoon strawberries.
Ivy blinked.
Then blinked again.
The giant gym rat was decorating pastries.
"What..."
Asher looked up.
"Morning."
"What are you wearing?"
He looked down.
"The apron?"
"You n
