Page 49 of Alpha & Omega

We held each other for a moment as everyone stared. Before we parted, I cupped his cheek and gave him a quick kiss on the lips.

His smile never left his face when he pulled my hand off his cheek and threaded our fingers together, tugging me toward my seat.

“Anything you want. It’s on the house.”

“No… really. I can—”

“Zip! It’s. On. Me.”

“Okay. Thanks, Harl. So, what do you recommend?”

“I’ll pick it out for you. Trust me.”

I nodded. “Sounds good.”

I sat down in between diners, but I had a first-hand view of Harley cooking.

My server took my drink order and ran off as I watched Harley. His eyes bounced back to me, still smiling, until he became focused on his job. The female chef kept chatting with him. I couldn’t hear her, but whatever she said, his face pinked, and he shook his head, smiling shyly.

My server brought me a drink—a cocktail I’d never heard of, but it had bourbon in it and sounded fancy. Pippin specialized in cocktail making, so I simply followed his recipes whenever I helped him tend the bar.

I took a sip, which was surprisingly smooth and tasty but not too sweet, which I liked.

Before I could take another sip, my server brought me some food. “For starters, Chef Creed would like you to try the fried broccoli with chicken skins, shiitake ranch, and pickled peppers.”

“Uh, thanks.”

I forked a piece of broccoli with some chicken skin and peppers, which were all drizzled with mushroom ranch, and took a bite. There was a burst of flavor from tartness to earthiness, along with assorted textures. It was fucking delicious.

“What do you think?” Harley suddenly asked, his chocolatey eyes begging me to like it.

I quickly wiped my mouth and swallowed. “It’s so good. I love it.”

“Awesome. Your dinner tonight is a favorite here. Birria tacos.”

“Tacos? Sign me up.”

“Oh, you haven’t had tacos like these before. You’ll never look back after you try one… Unless you’re Hudson, of course. He’d be happier withTaco Bell, my traitorous son.”

I chuckled as he went back to cooking.

I finished my drink but didn’t order another because I had to work after dinner, replacing the bourbon with water.

Watching Harley was a treat. He moved fluidly in his kitchen, searing some tortillas I assumed were mine. Once he added some meat on top of them, he handed the tacos off to the pantry chef, who added all the garnishes to my meal.

Soon, my server placed a literal wooden plank in front of me with three tacos covered in tender stew meat, diced avocados, pickled onions, cilantro, and two lime wedges.

My mouth watered at the sight.

“You’re going to love these,” Harley said. “The meat has been braised for hours, so it should melt in your mouth.”

He eyed me as I folded the corn tortilla and took a large bite.

“Holy shit,” I said with my mouth full.

“Right? These are some of my favorite dishes.”

I used my napkin and shook my head, smiling. “You’re going to get me addicted. I’ll never look at fast food the same.”

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