As he spoke, a part of him realized that even if she left after thirty days, this time could be vital for securing Breal's leadership. He was determined to make Polly's stay comfortable, to immerse her in his world while learning about hers. His tail twitched with the urge to wrap around her, but he held back. He wouldn't force on her what he and Breal had been through.
Polly pondered for a moment. "Earth's cuisine is quite diverse. Are you up for something spicy?"
"Spicy food? I'm intrigued. As long as it's not lethal to Charros, I'm willing to experiment," Erzo replied, intrigued. "But what about you? Ready to try some interstellar delicacies? Some of them might... tingle."
A playful smile crept onto Polly's face. "Tingle? I'm all for trying new things, but I draw the line at anything that wriggles on the plate."
Erzo let out a hearty laugh. "No wriggling dishes—got it."
Her laughter joined his, light and infectious. He reassured himself silently. He could maintain this pretense for thirty days—stay disciplined, not let his growing fascination with her become anything more. They had to make this work for everyone involved, especially Polly. Yet, as he watched her laugh, he couldn't help but feel drawn to her vibrant spirit and the intriguing possibility of what lay ahead.
9
Erzo presented her with a bowl of freshly prepared food, reaffirming his earlier promise. “I stand by what I said, Polly. I won’t push you into anything you’re not comfortable with,” he assured her, his voice steady and sincere. Cooking for someone had been a rarity in his life, and Polly’s curious gaze on him as he cooked added a layer of intimacy he hadn’t expected.
The food they found in the residence was exotic, at least to Polly’s eyes, so he opted for something simpler for their first meal together. He planned to ease her into the diverse flavors of the galaxy, one dish at a time.
Settling down with their meal, Erzo reiterated his commitment to her well-being. “While you’re here with me, I’ll ensure your safety and respect our boundaries.”
“Thank you, I appreciate that,” Polly said, a note of gratitude in her voice as she accepted the bowl.
Handing her the utensils, Erzo watched as she playfully clicked them together, a small smile lighting up her face. “Do the utensils amuse you?”
She nodded. “They’re similar to what we use on Earth. It’s funny how some things transcend worlds.”
“Indeed, for those of us who value civilized dining.”
Her eyebrow arched in curiosity. “Not everyone does?”
He shook his head. “No, there are those who prefer... less refined methods. Can be quite off-putting.”
She laughed, her eyes sparkling. “Well, I hope my eating habits won’t disgust you.”
Erzo paused, taking in the vivacity in her eyes. “Far from it,” he replied, his voice dropping an octave.
His tone startled her, causing her to pause before continuing with her meal. “I hope it tastes as good as it smells.”
“It’s a simple dish, but the spices make it special,” Erzo said, watching her reaction.
Taking a bite, she instantly reached for the water. “That’s got some heat!”
Erzo winced. “Too hot? I can cool it down.”
“No, the spice level. We call it ‘heat’ on Earth. It’s not about temperature, but the intensity of the flavor.”
Erzo felt a pang of foolishness. He’d underestimated her palate. He’d thought her asking about spicy food meant she enjoyed eating it. “Is it too much? I can make something else.”
She shook her head, smiling. “No, it’s a delightful surprise. We have spices on Earth that really pack a punch.”
“You enjoy such intense flavors?”
“Sometimes, but too spicy can be overwhelming,” Polly explained. “There’s even a pepper called a Carolina reaper back home, one of the hottest.”
His interest piqued. “I’d like to try that. I enjoy bold flavors.”
Their eyes locked, and he sensed her understanding in his double entendre. Her cheeks flushed, and she glanced away. “If I ever return, I’ll bring you one.”
A silent moment hung between them, charged with an unspoken connection. Erzo, typically detached as a Charro from such mating emotions, found himself unexpectedly drawn to her. It felt more like a privilege than a duty to care for her, a sentiment that went against the Charro norm of transactional relationships.
