“Got it.” He grinned again. “When we finish, do I get a cookie?” “Yes, if—” I stopped because the look in his eyes made me wonder if he meant one of the chocolate chip cookies I’d baked, or something else entirely. Was cookie a euphemism? Was he thinking about sex? I was thinking about sex. Sex with him. Flustered, I shoved the stack of paperwork at his chest. “Cookie. Yes. If there are any left.”
