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“That was just because we have some of the best beef and bison in the nation out here,” he clarified. “Choosing turkey, outside of dietary limitations, is like eating pizza at a buffet. It’s just an unexpected choice.”
“Oof. I have bad news for you when it comes to me and pizza at buffets,” I said, chuckling.
“Don’t make me leave you in this store, Sam Watson,” Damon joked as he headed toward the cash register. “People who eat pizza at buffets cannot be trusted.”
I smiled to myself as I once again followed behind him, something warming in the center of my chest, something calm flooding through my veins.
Being around Damon was nice. Nicer than I could’ve ever expected it to be.
And honestly? That was enough for me.
Especially since nothing romantic was ever going to be on the table.
* * *
“How confident are you when it comes to stovetop burgers?”
Damon asked the question as we set the groceries down on the kitchen counter. He was already separating out the ingredients, his hands quick and focused.
“Uh…” I let out a nervous laugh as I watched him work. “What’s the complete opposite of being confident about something?”
“You’re not into cooking, then?”
“More like, I’m into hitting my work deadlines and just ordering takeout instead of pulling myself out of the zone,” I answered. “If I tried to cook my meals, I don’t think I’d get anything else done. It would just zap all of my energy.”
“So, you’re not into cooking, then,” Damon repeated, with a small grin. “That’s fine by me. You can be my assistant.”
“You mean like measuring stuff and making sure nothing’s on fire?”
“Good. You’ve already got a handle on it.”
“Yes, chef!” I beamed over at him, just as he handed me a large pot.
“Fill this with cold water,” he instructed. “You can set it on the stove but don’t turn it on. We’re going to let the potatoes sit in it for a little bit before we roast them.”
I did as I was told, filling the pot with water as fast as I could. Moments later, Damon was placing the potatoes in the water, right before he went into action with the beef, rolling it out of its parchment paper. I watched as he expertly seasoned the meat, before he handed me another pan, telling me I could turn the stove on this time.
Bossy.
I didn’t mind it, though, since I was completely helpless in the kitchen.
It didn’t take too much longer for dinner to come together, not with Chef Damon at the helm. Apparently, he was just as magical as the rest of Roanoke was turning out to be, his plate of burgers, roasted potatoes, and green beans looking like something right out of a professional kitchen. I reached for one of the burgers, my stomach rumbling, just as I noticed Damon watching me, out of the corner of my eye.
“Am I supposed to wait to eat these or…?” I asked, the burger so close to my mouth I could practically taste it.
“Oh, go ahead and eat,” he replied as he tucked a fist under his chin. “I just wanted to see what you thought of it.”
“I wouldn’t worry too much about what I’m going to think about it, Damon. As in, I’m pretty sure this is going to be delicious.”
“Still,” he shrugged, “I’d like to watch.”
He then tilted his head toward the burger in my hand. “Go ahead. Eat.”
Bossy x 2.
A part of me wanted to rebel against the command, but a much needier part of me was desperate for the protein. I quickly took a bite out of the burger, letting its flavor explode against my tastebuds. I tried and failed to suppress an actual groan of pleasure, my instant reaction to the bite of food.
“You like it?” Damon asked, his gaze seeming to drift down to my lips before he hastily brought it back up toward my eyes.
