A) Kiss happens before the wedding
B) OR during the next dessert test
#ResearchInTheNameOfRomance
@SecondHandTreasures:I’ll bring the mistletoe. Doesn’t matter that it’s September. #TrueLoveHasNoDeadline #TheChocolateSpeaks
The kitchen table looked like a battlefield of mismatched plates—torn bread crusts, half-full soup bowls, slivers of pie, and the aftermath of three different entrées—all in various stages of taste testing.
But menu planning had never been this fun.
At least not for Daphne.
Now that she wasn’t trying to dissect Finn’s every intention or shield her heart from possible catastrophe, their banter had only gotten more enjoyable... with a few bonus hugs and kisses sprinkled in like cinnamon on top. Warm, sweet, a little addictive.
“Okay, so here’s the test.” Daphne tore off a piece of honey oat bread and dipped it into Finn’s beef bourguignon. The rich sauce hit her tongue like a velvety bomb of flavor.
“Oh...” She closed her eyes and chewed. “That’s... annoyingly good.”
“Annoyingly?” Finn smirked. “Then it’s definitely mine.”
She handed him a piece of the bread. “Try it.”
He did as she instructed, his eyes widening as the flavors melded. “All right, that’s not bad at all.”
“Not bad?” She lifted her half-eaten bread toward him in a toast. “My bread just made your dish exceptional.”
“I’ll admit,” he said, reaching around her for another dip, “it’s a game changer.” His gaze lingered on her face with that slow-burn look that made her forget all about bourguignon. “But maybe it’s my stew makingyourbread exceptional.”
His voice dropped just enough to trigger a flutter under her ribs. Mercy! How was she supposed to stay objective when he soundedlike her favorite audiobook narrator and looked like a kitchen ad in a European magazine?
“Fine,” she conceded with a grin. Either way she won. “We’ll call it a tie.”
He held her gaze for a second longer, heat lingering like a slow simmer, then stepped back with a mischievous glint. “Now for a test of my smoky tomato bisque as a starter for the wedding meal.” Finn waggled his brows and held out a spoonful of his newest creation. “I’m ninety-nine percent sure it’ll change your life.”
That playfulness. It was starting to grow on her in ways she hadn’t anticipated—stretching her humor, inspiring her creativity, gently untangling all her old defenses and offering this sense of sweetness in their relationship.
And the way he looked at her? Like she was still the loveliest woman in the world, even with flour in her eyebrows and a lopsided knot of hair on her head? It was a miracle she wanted to accept as a daily perk.
Oh, so sweet!
Her gaze trailed to his, those creamy brown eyes lit, his lips crooked in adorable challenge, all while a stray lock of hair dripped over his forehead like a tease.
Okay, sweetness with a whole lot of spice wrapped in one frustratingly irresistible package. But didn’t the best things in life require a healthy balance?
“That one percent is concerning.” She eyed the spoon. “What’s the risk?”
“It might ruin all future soups for you. Forever.”
She leveled him with a look despite her smile’s desperate escape plan, and opened her mouth. He brought the spoon to her lips with slow, deliberate care in a wonderfully intimate move. It made her chest ache in the best way.
The moment the bisque hit her tongue, her body relaxed. It was smooth with layers of depth—perfectly seasoned and utterly decadent.
“Oh, that’s good.”
“Yeah?” He leaned over and kissed her. “A reward for yourexcellenttaste.”
Her grin burst free. “Whose reward are we talking about here?”
