Sam blinked at him through those glasses. “For what?”
“I’m settling a debate with my housemates.” Rux kept hisexpression casual. “They think chicken is boring.”
“Your housemates are wrong. Chicken’s great if you cook it right.” Sam handed him the latte. “Though I guess it depends on the dish.”
“What’s your favorite chicken dish?”
“My mum used to make this lemon and herb thing with roasted vegetables.” Sam’s expression softened. “I’ve tried recreating it, but it never tastes quite the same.”
Lemon. Herbs. Roasted vegetables. Memory of his mother.
Rux wanted to promise he’d recreate that exact flavor, that he’d spend days getting the recipe just right until Sam tasted home again. Instead, he said, “Cooking’s like that sometimes. The secret ingredient is usually someone else making it.”
Sam laughed. “Exactly.”
Thursday evening, Rux returned for a third time. Maya gave him a look that suggested she knew exactly what he was doing, but Sam just smiled in greeting.
“Do you have any allergies I should know about?” Rux asked while Sam prepared his order.
“That’s a weird question.”
“I was just wondering. Mabon’s got a thing about shellfish. It makes him paranoid when we eat out.”
“Oh.” Sam relaxed. “No, I’m fine with everything. Well, I mean, cilantro tastes like soap to me, but that’s not an allergy.”
No cilantro ever.
“Good to know.” Rux accepted his coffee. “Though now I’m wondering if Mabon’s shellfish thing is real or if he’s just pretending to get out of sushi nights.”
“Is he the type to fake allergies?”
“He’s the type to spend twenty minutes researching the optimal way to fold a napkin, so honestly, anything’s possible.”
Sam laughed. “That sounds about right. He spent ten minutes last week taking notes about a proper pour-over technique.”
They were talking about Mabon in an endearing way, like Samknewthem, understood their quirks, and accepted them.
Rux’s dragon rumbled with satisfaction.
“I should let you close up.” Rux glanced at the darkening windows. “Thanks for humoring my weird questions.”
“They weren’t that weird.” Sam wiped down the counter. “Though if you come in tomorrow asking about my favorite color, I’m going to start getting suspicious.”
“Blue,” Rux said without thinking. “You wore a blue jumper last week, and you kept adjusting the sleeves like you were comfortable in it.”
Sam stared at him.
Damn.
“I mean,” Rux backpedaled. “I notice things about people. It’s a weird habit.”
“Right.” Sam’s voice came out soft. “Noticing things.”
Rux fled before he could make it worse.
In the Range Rover, he pulled out his phone and typed everything into his notes.Margherita pizza. Mushrooms. Garlic. Lemon chicken. Roasted vegetables. No cilantro. Comfort food. Mother’s recipes. Blue.
The menu was taking shape in his mind, filled with courses that would tell Sam everything words hadn’t managed to convey. He just needed Sam to accept the invitation first.
