(Miles — Same Day)

“You gonna tell me what that was about?”

Graham leaned a shoulder against the frame of Miles’ office door, arms crossed, watching him with barely concealed amusement.

Miles barely looked up from his laptop.

“What was what about?” he asked, feigning innocence.

“The radioactive death glares you and the baker were shooting across the room,” Graham said dryly. “I thought I was going to have to confiscate weapons.”

Miles snorted. “That? That’s just… history.”

Graham raised an eyebrow.
“You already have history with her? She’s been here five minutes.”

Miles shrugged, tapping something into a spreadsheet.
“Long enough to hate me.”

Graham waited.

Miles sighed and closed the laptop.
“It’s complicated.”

Graham grinned. “It always is.”

There was a beat of silence. The only sound was the low hum of traffic outside.

“She’s stubborn,” Miles said eventually. “Got big plans. Wants to make a mark. Reminds me a little too much of someone else I know.”

“You?” Graham asked, deadpan.

Miles smirked. “Exactly.”

Graham chuckled and pushed off the doorframe.
“Well, play nice. I don’t need a tenant war breaking out on my property.”

“Define nice,” Miles called after him.

But Graham was already gone, leaving Miles to his paperwork — and his increasingly complicated feelings about his new neighbor.

---

Later that afternoon, Lucy stood on the sidewalk outside her new bakery, a stack of invitations tucked under one arm.

She had spent all morning designing them — glossy cardstock, soft pink lettering, little gold-foil accents.
Her grand opening was just a few days away, and she wanted it to be perfect.

She moved from shop to shop, slipping an envelope under each door or handing them off personally when she could.

She saved the worst for last.

Miles’ door was slightly ajar when she approached.

She knocked sharply.

“Come in,” he called.

Lucy pushed it open a few inches and held out the envelope like it was laced with poison.

He looked up, surprise flashing across his face.

“What’s this?” he asked.

Lucy forced a tight smile.
“An invitation. For my opening.”

Miles took it, his fingers brushing hers briefly — and annoyingly — again.

“Gee, sunshine,” he said, smirking. “Didn’t think you cared.”

“I don’t,” Lucy said sweetly. “It’s just basic manners.”

“Right. Manners.”
He turned the envelope over in his hands, clearly amused.

Lucy was halfway back across the hall when he called out,
“Should I bring a gift?”

She didn’t bother turning around.
“Bring yourself. That’ll be punishment enough.”

She heard his chuckle echo behind her as she slammed her own door shut.