I lean in.
The spoon hovers between us, steam curling in the air. His hand stays steady, but mine trembles slightly as I take the bite. The warmth hits my tongue—savory, rich, a little too spicy—and I can’t help the small sound that escapes my throat.
“Good?” he asks, his voice low, almost breathless.
I nod, maybe too quickly. “It’s… really good.”
He doesn’t look away. His lips twitch, almost a smile, and for a heartbeat, neither of us moves.
“You’ve got sauce—” he says, lifting his hand.
Before I can ask where, his thumb brushes the corner of my mouth, slow, gentle. My breath catches. His fingers linger a moment too long before he pulls back.
“There,” he murmurs.
I force a laugh, though it comes out shaky. “Thanks, chef.”
He smiles for real this time, quiet but warm enough to mak
