Evelyn's dream of securing a scholarship to America's top ballet school shattered when her mother was brutally murdered during her teenage years. Determined to make a difference, she became a detective, ready to take on the world. Assigned to invest...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
--<3--
The kitchen pulsed with life, music vibrating through the air and the smell of freshly baked goodness drifting into every corner. Passersby peeked in, drawn by the aroma, complimenting the chef and lingering a moment before moving on. Friday arrived faster than Jeremiah had expected. He stood in the kitchen, as he had almost the entire past two days, orchestrating pizzas for the bikers and sirens who planned to eat at the club. The air was thick with the scent of rising dough, melting cheese, and roasted garlic, mingling with the tang of tomato sauce and herbs. Jeremiah usually made pizza when he felt a spark of creativity or a lift in his mood, and today, both had settled firmly inside him. Evelyn had been joining him more and more over the past few days, and it was clear she was beginning to warm to his presence. A low hum escaped him as he assembled one pizza after another, layering toppings with the care of an artist. If he was lucky, she might give in to her curiosity about him sooner rather than later.
"It smells amazing, Jeremiah," a familiar voice said, cutting through the hum of conversation. Evelyn had finally emerged from her room, her mind thinking off something else for a short while, she had written endless reports to her boss because of his demands. Three reports a week, five pages each, and attention to every detail... She had spent the day with work up to her ears.
"Oh, it's pizza! My lucky day," she said, dancing forward and snatching a slice from the pizza he held. Jeremiah's eyebrows rose in surprise, he rarely allowed anyone to help themselves before he was ready to serve.
"Get in line, detective!" Ash groaned, stretching his hands toward a slice he hoped would survive the hungry crowd. Evelyn turned, a playful smirk lifting her lips, meeting his narrowed eyes with mischief.
"Sorry, Ash, I'm the chef's favorite. That means first pick," she said proudly, glancing over her shoulder for confirmation from Jeremiah. He laughed, setting the plate down on the table so the others could help themselves.
"Traitor," Ash called jokingly to Jeremiah, earning chuckles from the group. Everyone knew Evelyn had become the favorite in the kitchen, and she wasn't shy about using it to her advantage.
"Well, Ash, I'm not waiting to kiss you," Jeremiah said, and the room erupted with laughter as Evelyn's cheeks flamed a soft pink. She turned away quickly, though Jeremiah caught the way her eyes sparkled in spite of herself.
"If you want a kiss, you could just ask," Ash said, stepping forward and pressing a quick, playful kiss to Jeremiah's cheek. Laughter filled the kitchen, and Jeremiah's surprise turned into a grin as he nudged his friend back gently while wiping his cheek playfully.
"Still not waiting for yourkisses," Jeremiah said, shaking his head, amusement dancing in his dark eyes. The two men laughed, separating from their playful fight, and Jeremiah returned to his pizzas, focusing on the dough and toppings with renewed energy. Evelyn, finding comfort in the rhythm of cooking, began to help, her hands moving with careful precision, it made her feel at home weirdly. Time slipped by unnoticed, minutes stretching into two hours as they worked, laughed, and chatted with the bikers and sirens who drifted in and out. When the last of the plates were cleared, they gathered the leftovers for themselves. The sunlight spilled golden through the windows, casting long shadows across the kitchen as they leaned against the counter, sharing the quiet intimacy of the moment.
