Love Burned, She Rose Unscathed

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.

to help?" Owen retracted his hand, clearing his

"Hmm... All the sides are ready, and the seasonings are all set.

house, felt instantly more spacious

imagination, or did the air

Twenty minutes later-

her apron, and brought the dishes to the table. Owen hadn't been

the kitchen? I'll get it." He didn't wait for a response, already heading to the kitchen. Indeed, a creamy

Roseanne glanced at his

figure, mom

fridge. After

stood

cans of beer.

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

Roseanne wondered why

in Owen's eyes. "I've got lab work this afternoon,

looked

swallowed. "...maybe I shouldn't

"Right. Let's eat."

choice, Roseanne reluctantly

deep