Page 35 of The Flavor of Us

I narrow my eyes at him over the rim of my cup and refuse to answer as I sip my drink, my shoulders relaxing bit by bit. Ashton starts talking—about desserts he’s made, about kitchen disasters he and Ryder have had on the road, about the time he nearly set a ten-thousand-dollar oven on fire because he “got distracted by the view.”

He’s funny. Like,reallyfunny. And not in an over-the-top, trying-too-hard kind of way. It’s effortless, easy, the kind of humor that puts me at ease and makes me forget that I was a blushing mess five minutes ago.

Eventually, my cup is empty, and his espresso is long gone. We sit there, watching the world outside the window for a moment. Finally, Ashton stretches, his arms flexing as he rolls his shoulders back. “Alright, little doe. What do you say we head back before Carleen starts pacing holes into the floor?”

I snort, standing up and brushing whipped cream residue off my hoodie. “You act like she’s a worried mom or something.”

Ashton grins, holding the café door open for me as we step back into the chilly afternoon air. “Tati, if you think she’s not pacing right now, you haven’t been paying attention.” And for the first time since we left the apartment, I find myselflaughing.

Walking back with Ashton feels easy.

Too easy, maybe, considering how my brain’s been doing backflips ever since we left the café. But Ashton? He’s just here.Chatting, gesturing with his hands, flashing me that sharp grin every time I laugh at one of his jokes.

And I laugh a lot.

I learn that Ashton and Ryder have been a pack for years—first as friends, then something more. They met at a culinary school event that Ashton only attended because he’d heard the catering would be “absolutely bomb.” Turns out, Ryder wasthehead chef for the event, all stoic silence and focused energy, and Ashton was the loud, sarcastic student sneaking extra hors d'oeuvres off the platters.

“He caught me red-handed,” Ashton says, stuffing his hands into his pockets with a crooked grin. “I had three crab puffs stuffed into my mouth like a damn chipmunk.”

I snort, nearly choking on my laugh. “Oh my goddess, shut up.”

“True story,” he muses, eyes glinting with mischief. “The man didn’t even blink. Just stared me down with those icy blue eyes and said, ‘If you’re going to eat that many, at least have the decency to pair them with the right sauce.’”

I double over laughing, clutching my stomach. “You mean to tell me Ryder—theRyder—read you forsauce pairingswhile you were in full chipmunk mode?”

Ashton shrugs, grinning. “Dead serious. And listen, little doe—it worked. I paired those crab puffs with the damn sauce, and the rest is history.”

I’m still laughing when Ashton shifts closer, his warm brown eyes softening as they linger on my face. There’s something about the way he’s looking at me—like he’s memorizing every line, every freckle, every flicker of amusement across my face—that makes me feelseen.

As we near the apartment building, the easy rhythm of our conversation slows, replaced by something heavier. It’s not awkward, not exactly, but there’s something else in the air now.

Somethingthick.

Somethingexpectant.

I don’t want to leave this moment. I don’t want to head back to my room, back to the nest I hid in earlier. I like this—being here, being with him. The realization hits me like a ton of bricks—I want what they’re offering.

A pack. Love. Safety. A place where I can justbe.

I want it so badly my chest aches with it.

“I should head in,” I murmur, my voice softer now. “I need to change, eat something, and then head off to Euphoria.”

Ashton nods, his brown eyes never leaving mine. He holds out a hand, palm up, waiting. I hesitate for only a second before slipping my smaller hand into his.

His fingers close around mine and then he’s tugging me gently until I’m right there, pressed against his chest. Ashton stares down at me, his face softer now, the sharp edges of his grin replaced with something more serious.

“Little doe…”

It’s just my nickname, but the way he says it—low and husky—makes something in my chest snap.Before I can process what’s happening, Ashton dips his head and kissesme.His lips are warm, firm, and absolutely commanding. He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t second-guess—he just takes.

And goddess, do I let him.

I melt against him, my hands lifting to clutch the front of his jacket as his other hand finds its way to the small of my back, holding me there. The kiss isn’t rushed, but it’s not gentle either. It’s intentional.Like he’s trying to tell me something without saying a single word.

When we finally break apart, I’m breathless, my forehead pressed against his chest as I try to steady the frantic pounding of my heart. Ashton’s breathing just as heavily, his thumb brushing along the side of my waist in slow, soothing circles. I can feel him against me again, as well as his interest thickening against my belly. My fantasies run wild before I can stop them and of course, my body works faster than my head, a moan filtering through my lips.

Ashton takes it in stride, grinning down at me as he kisses me again. “I’ll give you that later, Tati. Whenever you’re ready.”

---