“Sounds like a Sunday-worthy dish to me,” Nate added, without waiting for an invitation to dive into the steaming dish. “Shepherd’s pie? Psalm 23 on a plate.”
Jack groaned at Nate’s appraisal, but it didn’t stop him from being next in line for the food. Such gentlemen.
Daphne avoided eye contact with Finn and focused on Lucy. She had the prettiest green eyes and held a little dragon in her arms. A green dragon? “Do you like dragons, Lucy?”
Lucy’s eyes flicked up at her, and she gave the tiniest nod.
“Good choice,” Daphne said, sliding the corn bread pudding closer to Finn without acknowledging his existence. “They’re much more reliable than unicorns and fairies.”
“And stronger,” came her little voice.
“For sure.” Daphne grinned.
“So, Lucy’s not much of a princess girl, Daph,” Jack teased. “Guess you two won’t have much in common.”
“I like princesses too,” Lucy piped up, her tiny brows furrowing in protest.
Daphne beamed. “Of course you do. Only the best girls like both dragons and crowns.”
Lucy giggled, her crooked grin lighting up her whole face. Daphne caught a glimpse of a faint scar above her lip—subtle but unmistakable. Something in her heart squeezed.
Poor little thing.
“This here is mighty good, Finn.” Granny D raised her forkful of shepherd’s pie. “Can’t wait to tell folks ’bout it. You mean to open this upcoming weekend?”
“That’s the plan,” Finn answered, dishing out some green bean casserole.
Daphne stiffened just a little. It was one thing for her regular group of people to eat her cooking. It was quite another to share her food with a... chef... unless she’d specifically curated it for him like she had those scones.
“Saturday,” he continued, scooping a little for Lucy, whose nose wrinkled. Clearly, her love of green did not extend to beans. “I’m planning a limited supper menu for folks in the community to try, then rolling out the full offerings in stages.”
“You should try his bangers and mash.” Jack leaned back in his chair and rubbed his stomach. “That’s a Monday-through-Sunday kind of meal.”
Rosemary murmured something appreciative, probably flirt-adjacent, but Daphne barely heard her. Her gaze had locked onto Finn, who lifted a forkful of her green bean casserole to his lips. He paused, brows drawn in mild concentration, like he was parsing out ingredients and intention all at once.
Which—ugh—meant he might be a flavor-notes kind of person, just like her.
But... he wasnothinglike her. At all.
He took another bite, slower this time, and the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth gave him away. He liked it.
Heat bloomed in her chest. Pride? Possibly. Satisfaction? Definitely. Gloating? Not outwardly, but it stirred in ridiculous happy twirls in her stomach. With careful precision, she took a polite bite of his shepherd’s pie. The rich broth and warm earthiness of rosemary and thyme practically sang on her tongue. Her eyes fluttered closed, tabulating each new flavor.
“Looks like Daphne’s in love,” Jack said.
Her eyes snapped open in horror.
“With the food,” he clarified, twirling his fork toward her. “The dreamy sigh was a dead giveaway.”
She flung a napkin at his face. “You’re ridiculous.”
“So I’ve been told.” Jack winked.
Her attention snapped to Finn, only to find one raised brow and that disastrous grin.
Daphne attempted to salvage some of her bottomed-out pride. “It’s very good, Finn.”
“Thank you,” he replied, eyes steady on hers. “I hope to add it to the final menu.”
