She shook her head. “You didn’t—”
“Dahlia. Let us both be sorry. Let’s be very sorry people eating barbecue. Okay?”
She bit her lip, the skin around her eyes creased in concern. London drew a finger down the side of her cheek until it landed on those worried lips.
Automatically, as if she couldn’t help herself, Dahlia opened her mouth and bit down, the grip of her teeth on their fingertips so sharp and gentle at once that London visibly shivered.
Removing their hand, they made themself lean back into their own chair again and look at the food. She had clearly worked hard, and none of it would get eaten if there was any further action of lips and teeth. Their system was already starting to spiral.
“Dahlia, I don’t know what to say. I don’t know that I even deserve this.”
“London,” Dahlia said, sounding exasperated. “Seriously, you wonChef’s Special. Just . . . fucking eat.”
And then she laughed again, at herself. It sounded better this time, more real. London picked up their fork. They were about to dig in to the mac ’n’ cheese, or the potato salad, when they spotted another dish on the table.
“Oh my god.” They reached over and grabbed a perfectly fried ball of cornmeal. “You madehush puppies, too?”
“Yeah . . .” Dahlia winced. “Sorry, I know they’re more of a Carolina thing—”
“Dahlia,” London interrupted before stuffing it in their mouth. “Never, ever apologize for hush puppies.” And then they groaned.
And realized they were starving.
London tucked into the potato salad and then some greens, and they were just about to pick up a rib when Dahlia stomped on their foot.
“Ow!” They laughed, their mouth still full.
“Stop making all those noises! It’s . . . ” London looked over and realized Dahlia’s cheeks were flushed. “It’s unfair.”
London grinned. “Well, if I’m about to watch you eat ribs and suck sauce off your fingers, which I’mprettysure I’m about to do, I’d call us about even.”
Dahlia blushed even harder. “God, I can’t wait to kiss you.”
London stopped in their tracks.
She was right. They had eaten some of the food now. Kissing was obviously in order.
They dropped their fork and stood from their chair. Thank god these judge’s chairs were ridiculously oversized, like three seats made for kings. It made it surprisingly easy to slide onto Dahlia’s lap, to straddle their knees next to her hips.
Dahlia let out a small, shaky breath. It was the sexiest thing London had ever heard.
They took her face in their hands.
Her eyelids fluttered on her cheeks, her focus shifting to their lips.
London ran a hand around Dahlia’s neck, slinking a hand into her hair, stretching out their fingers, feeling the silky strands between each one. She closed her eyes fully and leaned her head back into their palm, releasing a soft whimper.
“Dahlia.” London leaned forward, pressed a kiss in turn onto each of her eyelids. “Dahlia.” They sighed into her cheek. “I missed you so much.”
And then a timer went off.
Dahlia’s eyes blinked open. “Oh, shit!” She shoved London to the side, and they stumbled off the chair. “I almost forgot!”
She ran around the judge’s table and over to London’s station, where a stove was beeping. She tugged on an oven mitt. After London had recovered from their seduction being so rudely interrupted, they joined her and stared at what she had just unearthed from the oven.
“Did you make mesweet potato pie?”
London didn’t want this night to ever end.
