I roll my eyes with a smile. “Oh, you have no idea. What about you?” I ask. “Any big plans?”
He nods slightly. “Yeah, I’ll be spending it with my parents too.”
“Back in Phoenix?” I ask, remembering that’s where he moved from before taking the principal job.
He shakes his head. “They’re actually in River Falls. That’s why I moved. My dad’s health hasn’t been great, and traveling back and forth from Phoenix was getting tough.”
“I’m sorry, Ben. That must be hard.”
He offers me a small smile. “He’s on some new meds, so he’s doing okay right now.”
“That’s good.”
The oven timer blares, making me jump. Ben chuckles beside me.
“Did you forget we set that? It’s for the chicken,” he says, his voice giving away his amusement.
I nod sheepishly. “I’m not used to timers. That might be why I tend to burn everything.”
He smirks. “Sounds like someone just gave me a perfect Christmas gift idea.”
I arch a brow, grinning. “Oh, Iownone. I just don’t use it.”
He shakes his head with a laugh. “You’re hopeless.”
I watch as he grabs an oven mitt and pulls the tray with perfectly roasted chicken from the oven, setting it carefully on the counter. We both reach for the utensils at the same time, and our hands brush.
A spark shoots through me, it’s quick, but undeniable. My breath catches as I glance up, and Ben’s eyes meet mine, wide and unblinking. He felt it too.
“Sorry,” I murmur, withdrawing my hand a little too quickly.
He smiles gently. “Ladies first,” he says, motioning toward the utensil jar with a slight nod.
My fingers wrap around a knife, but my pulse is still racing like he just touched more than my hand.
“Let’s get this plated up,” he says, his voice a little quieter than before as the air between us hums with something unspoken.
We move around each other effortlessly, like this isn’t our first time sharing a kitchen. Ben carefully plates the chicken while I arrange the vegetables, and then he finishes it off with a delicate drizzle of sauce.
I stare down at the dish in disbelief. A golden chicken breast, stuffed with garlic and herb cream cheese, wrapped in Parma ham, and surrounded by sautéed vegetables and new potatoes, all perfectly arranged like something out of a restaurant.
“Did we actually make that?” I ask, my eyes wide. “It looks... incredible.”
Ben chuckles. “And not a single fire.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re hilarious.”
As the instructor walks by, he gives us a nod of approval. Ben leans in, his breath brushing against my cheek.
“I think we passed,” he murmurs.
I smile, and he mirrors it, his eyes flicking down to my mouth before quickly looking away. My stomach flips. I’ve been attracted to him since the day we met, and I’m beginning to wonder if he might feel something too.
“Do we get to try it?” I ask, trying to alleviate the tension that’s building between us.
“Absolutely,” he says, reaching for a knife and fork and passing them to me. “You first.”
I take the cutlery from him, slice into the chicken, and pop a bite into my mouth. My eyes widen as flavor bursts across my tongue, and I can’t help the sound that escapes me.
