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“Come here.”

Ryan’s voice snapped me out of my trance. He’d been working for hours and enamored, I sat by to watch. A meat filling simmered on the stove, making my mouth water.

While that thickened, he’d started on the dough. After calling me over, he turned it out onto the countertop. “You want to clear your head, get your hands—well, hand dirty. Here, I’ll help you.”

I helped him knead the dough, and he tucked himself into my side, substituting my left hand for his. “Are you scared?”

“No, I’ve always been a pretty adventurous eater.”

“Jason…” he scolded, though he trailed off into laughter.

Oh boy.

Ryan grabbed a glass, cutting the dough into thin discs. “I don’t know how far you want to take this.”

“If I’m being honest, neither do I,” I confessed. “And it does scare me.”

Ryan paused, filling the disc with a spoonful of meat before he sealed it shut and crimped the edges with a fork. With the next dip into the pan, he brought the spoon to me. “Why don’t we do this the right way?”

“What’s the right way?” I asked, accepting the mouthful he offered me. I moaned, cumin and chili flakes exploding onto my tongue. “Fuck, if you keep feeding me like that, I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Even let me take you on a date?”

I choked, forgetting that I had food in my mouth. “A date?”

“Yes, a date. That’s what people do when they like each other. Do you like me?”

Ryan dropped the turnovers into sizzling oil, and I waited for the noise to die down, pretending to think over my answer—even though I already knew what it was. Of course I liked him, but saying it out loud was entirely different to thinking it in my head.

“Yes,” I finally said once the kitchen was quiet again.

“Yes, what?” Ryan closed the distance between us, wrapping his arms around me.

Letting mine fall around his shoulders felt natural. “Yes, I… I like you.”

“So…” Ryan gnawed at his bottom lip. His cheeks flushed, but whether it was the heat from the stove or from our conversation, I wasn’t sure. “Can I take you out on a proper date?”

Feeling every nerve in my body, I nodded. It would be more concerning if I wasn’t nervous, right?

Ryan let out a big sigh of relief and collapsed against my chest. “Great, now that that’s over, we can eat. I think I can feel my stomach digesting itself.”

I took the initiative snatching one of the pastries from the tray and blowing on it to cool the dough before I offered it to him. “Well, we don’t need that happening. You’ll waste away.”

Ryan rolled his eyes, accepting the bite, teeth crunching through the crispy fried dough.

“Mm, damn I’m good,” he mumbled with a full mouth. “Your turn.”

We swapped places, and Ryan offered me the rest. The meat alone was like heaven on a spoon but combined with the dough, the taste was mind-blowing.

“You are good. I know who’s going to be in charge of dinner from now on. How do you say the name of these again?”

“Empanadillas,” he repeated, kicking up those butterflies with the flair to his voice.

I tried and failed a few times to say it myself before he walked me through it syllable by syllable.

“Empana-dillas,” I finally struggled out.

“Good enough,” he laughed. “Don’t worry, you’ll get it.”