Kat:
Blaze pulled into a small restaurant tucked between a tattoo parlor and a pawn shop. From the outside, it didn’t look like much—faded awning, a flickering neon open sign, and a cracked sidewalk—but the second I stepped out of the truck, the air hit me like a warm, savory slap to the face.
Garlic. Grilled meat. Something buttery and sweet I couldn’t place but already wanted in my mouth.
My stomach grumbled loud enough to startle a passing pedestrian.
“Oh my god,” I whispered, practically bouncing on my toes. “This smells amazing.”
Blaze didn’t say anything. He just grunted and shoved the door open like a man on a mission. The bell above the door jingled as we stepped inside. The place was warm and cozy, with laminated menus, vinyl booths in muted reds and greens, and that homey, g
