Or so the stories said.
He held up a small container like a peace offering. “You didn’t get a chance to try this before leaving, so I saved you a piece.”
“You mean a bribe,” she teased, stepping aside to let him in. “You’re bribing me with food.”
“Or thanking you.” He passed the container into her hands. “And in my defense, you already liked my ribs, so I supposed you’d like a bit of molten bourbon chocolate cake too.”
She wiped a hand across her mouth just to be sure she wasn’t drooling.
Either from the cake or the man... or the unjust combination of the two.
“Well, you do owe me after sharing with the entire cyberworld about my uncommonly public weakness for excellent food.” She took the offering. “That was a low blow, Dashwood.”
His eyes lit, and for some reason it made her want to keep up the banter.
“I regret nothing. The internet loved it. And how could I let the opportunity pass?” He leaned back against the doorframe, his grin flicking crooked. “There’s nothing quite as rewarding to any chef as having another worthy competitor value their work.”
She studied him a moment, her ire reducing to a slight simmer at the truth. It did matter. That shared recognition of something good. In fact, the little tête-à-tête about bread and ribs and spices she’d had with him earlier in the evening still hummed a welcome theme through her mind. Still seemed to tether her to him in some way... like a lingering aroma.
“Well, I’d love to garner the same response, but it seems you’re allergic to trying my food.” She turned toward the kitchen.
“I’ve had your scones,” his low voice permeated the space behind her as he followed. “They were delicious, but it does smell like you’ve been working on something else.”
“A peach cobbler tartlet recipe for the wedding, but something’smissing.” She placed the container on the counter and turned back toward him. “However, what you probably smell are the cookies Lucy and I made.” She waved toward the stovetop where a plate of cookies in various shapes, from hearts to flowers, were piled in a mound of sugar and sprinkles. “Not to worry.” Daphne raised a finger. “I only allowed her to eat one.”
“I appreciate that.” He glanced at her, still smiling in a... new way? The same as at the restaurant. What was that about? “So. Our rivalry’s officially trending.”
“I saw that! A woman today said she only came in because she ‘needed to witness the tension for herself.’” Daphne made air quotes with her fingers.
“I had ten people visit tonight because they’d seen the rivalry online.”
A laugh escaped her as she leaned back against the counter. “Right? I’ve had a consistent uptick in numbers, which can’t be a coincidence.”
Finn chuckled. “Glad we’re amusing the masses.”
“It’s good for business,” she said lightly.
“And fun,” he added, grinning as he leaned one hip against the counter. “Especially the part where I get to flirt shamelessly with you and call it marketing.”
“Flirt?” Her stomach did an unhelpful somersault. She forced herself to scoff. “With me? Please. You flirt with everything that breathes.”
“Untrue.” He tilted his head, a playful glint in his eye—though something quieter, more sincere stirred beneath it. “I’m friendly.”
“Friendly, is it?” She handed him a water bottle and leaned back against the island, doing her best to appear unimpressed. “So you don’tmeanto flirt?”
He took the bottle from her, letting his fingers graze hers in a way that absolutely wasn’t accidental. “Not like I’m trying to seduce the entire town, no. I like people. I like talking. Banter. Light engagement with men and women alike.” He took a long drink, then set the bottledown with a softthunk. “But when Imeanit... I’m apparently terrible at hiding it. Or so Harry says.”
Daphne’s throat tightened. What didmeaningitlook like, then? Because online flirting felt safe. Manageable. But in person, with Finn—his voice, his scent, his infuriatingly kind eyes—it felt anything but safe.
“Daphne?”
His sudden seriousness seized her breath. His expression. The sincerity. She wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. Maybe it was just part of that midnight magic in the storybooks. “Yes?”
“We may be rivals online for marketing, but I hope we can manage to be friends in real life.” His smile softened. “You’ve proven to be fairly wonderful to me and Lucy.”
The compliment sent lovely warmth through her.
“Friends?” She narrowed her eyes at him. Could he be a friend? But the last few days made her wonder. Game night. The nerd-out over ribs. “Don’t those involve long-term plans and... hearts?”
