I shut the door behind me. “You’re insufferable.”
“Ah,” he says lightly. “So that’s a yes.”
I walk straight up to him. No hesitation. No pretending I came down here for tea.
“I barely know your brother,” I say, stopping just close enough to him to make a point. “But I should have realised you weren’t him much sooner.”
Kai arches a brow. “Oh?”
“He’d never be this cocky,” I continue. “Or this annoying.”
His grin widens. “You think I’m annoying?”
“Yes.”
“Yet you’re still here. Thinking about me.”
I glare. “I came to tell you something.”
“That you’re wildly attracted to me?” he offers helpfully.
Heat flashes through me, sudden and unwelcome.
I refuse to move or give him the satisfaction. “That you’re predictable.”
“Ouch.”
“You’re loud,” I say. “You take up too much space. You push too hard. Koa doesn’t.”
Something flickers in his eyes at that. Brief. Controlled.
“So you’ve been thinking about my brother?” His smirk is insufferable.
“I’ve been thinking about how you smell different.”
That shuts him up.
Just for a second.
His smile doesn’t fall, but it stills.
“You’re not identical,” I press. “You share a base. But that’s it.”
“Go on.” He leans back against the counter, studying me now instead of performing.
I shouldn’t. But I do anyway. “You both smell like sea salt,” I say slowly. “Like warm sand after the sun’s been on it all day. And smoke. Like a campfire that’s burned low.”
His throat moves when he swallows.
“But Koa…” I step closer without realising I’ve done it. “He’s sweeter underneath it. Tonka bean. Warm. Almost like vanilla. Like something that lingers.”
Kai’s breathing changes. Not obvious. But I hear it.
“And me?” he asks quietly.
“Chocolate,” I say without hesitation. “Melted. Rich. Deeper. A little bitter. Unforgettable.”
The kitchen feels smaller suddenly.