Shay:
I pulled into the driveway and barely had my car in park before I jumped out. My excitement had me moving fast, taking the stairs two at a time. But just as I reached the door, something hit me—smoke. Thick, burnt, slightly acrid smoke.
I froze, sniffing the air. Oh no.
Heart racing, I swung the door open to find the kitchen engulfed in a hazy cloud. The source? Saint, standing in front of the stove with a spatula in one hand and a dishtowel in the other, waving at the smoke detector that was screaming at full volume. His brows were furrowed in frustration, his jaw tight as he muttered curses under his breath.
"What the hell is going on in here?" I asked, coughing as I stepped inside.
Saint turned, looking half guilty, half exasperated. "Dinner," he grumbled.
I peered
