Page 47 of The Flavor of Us

It’s been hours since we left the apartment—hours of weaving through farmer's markets and boutique grocery stores, filling our baskets with fresh vegetables, cheeses, spices, and things I can’t even pronounce but Ryder insists are essential.

The banter flows easily between the four of us. Ashton, with his ridiculous charm and ever-present grin, keeps calling melittle doe.Every time he does it, my face heats up, and Carleen gives himthe look—that sharp, narrow-eyed warning that should send lesser men running. But Ashton just laughs, flashing those dimples like they’re weapons of mass destruction.

“Careful, little doe,” he purrs, leaning down close enough that his breath tickles my ear. “Keep looking at me like that andCarleen’s going to have to drag me out of here by the scruff of my neck.”

I squeak, swatting at him as he saunters off to grab another bundle of something green and leafy.

Meanwhile, Ryder has appointed himself pillow scout. At every stall, every shop, he finds a pillow, holds it up, and tilts his head slightly. “This one, sweetheart?” he asks, his voice all low gravel and honey.

Every single time, I’m blushing and stammering like a mess, and every single time, he smiles like he’s proud of himself.

Carleen, though… she’sright here.Her hand stays wrapped around mine, her thumb rubbing slow, grounding circles into the back of my hand. She doesn’t stray far, and if Ashton or Ryder get a littletoobold with their flirting, she tugs me close to her side with a look that says,mine.

And yeah, it makes me feel all soft and gooey inside.

It’s easy. It’sso easy.

I’ve always dreamed about this—walking through aisles with a pack, laughing and arguing about ingredients, holding hands with someone who looks at me like I’m their whole world. But even as I bask in the warmth of this little daydream turned reality, I know we’re not done yet. Because the real mission of today—thebestpart—is still coming.

I wait until our bags are full, until Carleen’s shoulders have finally started to drop, and Ashton and Ryder look ready to follow me anywhere. Then I drop the bombshell.

“We’re going to Francine’s for lunch,” I announce, planting my hands on my hips.

Carleen freezes mid-step, her brows pulling together in confusion. “Francine’s? The burger place? Tati, that’s—”

“One of the sloppiest, greasiest, messiest places in the city,” I finish for her, grinning ear to ear. “Exactly. That’sthe point.”

Ashton’s grin spreads wide across his face, and he claps his hands together. “Oh, Ilovethis plan.”

Ryder hums in approval, his lips twitching into a rare smile. “Can’t say no to a good burger.”

Carleen lets out a long-suffering sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose like she’s deeply,deeplyregretting every decision that led her to this moment. “Please tell me they at least have napkins,” she mutters.

I reach up and pat her cheek lightly, grinning. “They’ve got napkins, Leenie. Theybathein napkins.”

Carleen gives me a flat look at using the childhood name only reserved for Ellie, but there’s a flicker of amusement in her brown eyes. “Fine. But if Ashton gets ketchup on my shirt, I’m taking it out on his hide.”

Ashton gasps, clutching his chest in mock horror. “Carleen, you wound me.”

Ryder smirks, already walking ahead of us, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his dark jeans.

Carleen looks down at me, her lips twitching as if she’s trying not to smile.

“This better be worth it, Tati,” she says, her voice low and warm.

I squeeze her hand tightly, tilting my head up to meet her gaze. “It will be. I promise.”

Francine’s is chaos. The greasy scent of sizzling burgers, melted cheese, and frying oil clings to the air like a second skin. There’s chatter everywhere, the kind that bounces off the walls and makes everything feel a little too loud but perfectly alive.

And then there’s us.

Crammed into a tiny booth in the far corner, looking so painfully out of place that it’s almost comical. Carleen ishorrified.I can see it in the tight line of her jaw, the way her hands grip the edge of the table like she’s preparing for battle. Ryder, calm and steady as always, slides in beside her, one of his broad arms resting casually on the back of the booth. Ashton pulls me into his side, draping one arm across my shoulders like I’m something precious, and yeah… my heart does a little somersault at the feeling.

Carleen’s eyes flick between all three of us, and I swear I can see her mentally calculating the odds of survival in this grease-and-chaos-filled arena.

“This is…” she starts, her voice tight as she stares down at the laminated menu, “…not what I was expecting.”

Ashton snorts beside me, his grin wicked. “Come on, darling, live a little. No tiny portions. No tweezers. Just good old-fashioned messy food.”

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