“Oh my gosh, Ben! Cinnamon rolls and coffee. Is this all a ploy to get me to slip up and tell you what your scent is?” she asked, her eyes lighting with laughter. I arched my eyebrow. “I would never be so diabolical,” I said, placing my hand on my chest in mock horror. “Although, if you want a cinnamon roll, you better tell me what I want to know.” I snagged the plate of rolls off the counter and held them above my head.
