Roseanne chuckled, "Oh come on, since when do guests end up in the kitchen?"

"Well, the guest insists he's more than happy to help."

With extra hands, the prep work flew by much quicker.

Once everything was set, Roseanne fetched the bass from the aromatic water, gently laid it on a plate, then patted it dry with paper towels before brushing its surface with olive oil to seal in the freshness. Owen found himself without a task, simply standing by, "Need a hand with anything?"

"Could you grab the steaming rack for me?"

"Sure thing."

He was tall enough to reach it with ease, but the tricky part was that the rack was hanging right above Roseanne's head.

Which meant, to get it, Owen had to stand right behind her.

This brief proximity, as if enveloping her within his arms, thankfully lasted just a moment - too quick to be awkward. "Here you go." Roseanne reached out.

Owen passed it to her.

Their fingers brushed accidentally during the handoff, causing him to catch his breath.

Roseanne, however, didn't seem fazed as she took the rack, placed it in the pot, and began steaming the fish.

I can do to help?" Owen retracted his hand, clearing his

the seasonings are all set. Why don't you head on

kitchen, being in an old, compact house, felt instantly more spacious with him out of

just Roseanne's imagination, or did the air seem to cool down a bit

Twenty minutes later-

the dishes to the table. Owen hadn't been idle

there a soup still in the kitchen? I'll get it." He didn't wait for a response, already heading to the kitchen. Indeed, a creamy mushroom soup hadn't been served

Roseanne glanced at his

figure, mom

the fridge.

she stood and

cans of beer.

gaze, feeling inexplicably sheepish. "Um... Leda came over the other day,

the air, and Roseanne wondered why she felt the need to

her evasive look, a hint of amusement flickered in Owen's eyes. "I've got lab work

looked at

swallowed. "...maybe I shouldn't

"Right. Let's eat."

no other choice, Roseanne

Roseanne took a deep breath,

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