Page 22 of The Flavor of Us

She grabs me under the arms and hauls me out of the nest like I weigh nothing, guiding me out of the room with steady hands and gentle nudges. I stumble down the hallway, still half-asleep, until she deposits me onto the couch.

I blink up at her, wide-eyed and still tangled in the hoodie I slept in. “Am I being exiled? Did I do something wrong?”

Carleen snorts, setting a plate of golden toast, perfectly boiled eggs, and a tall glass of orange juice down in front of me. “You’re not in trouble but I need you out of the kitchen for a little while.” She playfully taps my nose like she knows I would have woken, stumbled in, and started making a mess of her counters.

I grab a piece of toast and shove it in my mouth, chewing as I eye her suspiciously. “Why?”

She sighs, scrubbing a hand down her face before giving me one of those patient-but-firm looks that makes my stomach flip. “I’ve got people coming over. Important people. FromCulinova.”

The toast nearly falls out of my mouth. “Culinova?Like…theCulinova?”

Carleen nods, her lips twitching as she fights back a smile at my dramatics.

“Alpha!” I squeal, bouncing slightly on the couch. “That’samazing!Do you know how huge that is? Oh my goddess, are you going to do one of those insane luxury parties where people drink gold flakes and eat flowers carved into swans?” I’ve only been part of the entertainment at parties like that but I makesure to steal a few bites of food because I’ll never get another chance otherwise.

Carleen crosses her arms over her chest, one eyebrow raised. “Something like that.”

I’m still vibrating with excitement, my toast wobbling in my hand as I gesture wildly. “You’re gonna kill this, Carleen. They’re going to love you. They’ll be stupid not to sign you right then and there.”

Her shoulders relax slightly and she reaches forward to squeeze my hand. “Thanks, sunshine. That means a lot.” Then her stern face is back, her hand still in mine as she levels me with a look. “Which is exactly whyyouneed to stay out of the kitchen today.”

I gasp, mock-offended. “Excuse me? Are you saying my peanut butter and jelly masterpieces aren’t Michelin-star material?”

Carleen snorts, rolling her eyes. “Sweetheart, I loved your PB&J, but let’s be honest—they’re not going to impress the St. James pack.”

My smile freezes. My eyes go wide. “Wait… what pack?”

Carleen’s lips press together, like she’s already regretting letting that slip.

“The St. James pack,” she says carefully, trying to keep her voice neutral.

I blink at her, processing. And then it hits me.

“TheSt. James pack? Like, the two Alphas on every food magazine cover in your house? The ones everyone lowkey obsesses over because of their ‘flavor balance’ and ‘artistic presentation? And well, because they’re fucking hot? Those St. James Alphas?Ryder and Ashton St. James?” I slap a hand over my mouth, my eyes going wide. “Carleen! They’re cominghere?Tothisapartment? Toyour kitchen?!”

Carleen pinches the bridge of her nose and nods once. “Yes. They’re on their way. And yes, I may have agreed to this without thinking it through. Don’t remind me.”

The second Carleen disappears into the kitchen, I’m left alone on the couch with my half-eaten toast, my brain absolutelybuzzing. Ryder and Ashton St. James. Inthisapartment. InCarleen’skitchen.

My heart is racing and I can’t even blame it on the caffeine because I haven’t touched the coffee Carleen brought me yet. My eyes dart to the stack of magazines on the rack next to the armchair—glossy pages filled with sharp angles, sultry gazes, and dishes so beautiful they look like art. Without thinking, I snatch one of them from the top, nearly spilling my juice in the process.

Culinova’s Power Duo: Ryder & Ashton St. James Take Culinary Perfection to New Heights

The cover isridiculous. Ryder, all sharp blue eyes and dirty blonde hair styled to perfection, stands with his arms crossed, a faint scar slicing through one eyebrow. Ashton leans casually beside him, his warm brown skin practically glowing under the studio lights, his easy grin offset by the sharp glint of the diamond studs in his ears.

They look untouchable. Unreal. And now they’re cominghere.

“Okay, okay, deep breaths,” I mumble around a mouthful of toast, flipping through the pages.

The article talks about their rise to fame—the way Ryder handles precision and artistry while Ashton brings soul and warmth to every dish. Together, they’ve become Culinova’s golden boys, headlining the world’s most exclusive events.

While most people are out here drooling over actors and models—people likeMacon and Savin, Ellie’s mates—I’ve always been afoodgirl. Give me a beautifully seared steak over a red carpet walk any day.

I’d eat anything. Sweet, salty, savory—I don’t care. Food is a language, one I’ve always understood. And being so close to Carleen all these years has only sharpened that love. She taught me about balance and seasoning, about letting ingredients speak for themselves even if I prefer a mean peanut butter and jelly sandwich. And now?NowI might get to see Ashton and Ryderin action.

This is adream.

Except… my stomach feels tight, a knot curling deep in my belly that has nothing to do with excitement and everything to do with…something else.I set the magazine down and lean back onto the couch, chewing nervously on my bottom lip as I stare at the door. Then, like fate decided to play the mostwickedtrick on me, there’s a sharp knock that echoes through the apartment.

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