Roseanne chuckled, "Oh come on, since when do guests end up in the kitchen?"
"Well, the guest insists he's more than happy to help."
With extra hands, the prep work flew by much quicker.
Once everything was set, Roseanne fetched the bass from the aromatic water, gently laid it on a plate, then patted it dry with paper towels before brushing its surface with olive oil to seal in the freshness.
Owen found himself without a task, simply standing by, "Need a hand with anything?"
"Could you grab the steaming rack for me?"
"Sure thing."
He was tall enough to reach it with ease, but the tricky part was that the rack was hanging right above Roseanne's head.
Which meant, to get it, Owen had to stand right behind her.
This brief proximity, as if enveloping her within his arms, thankfully lasted just a moment - too quick to be awkward.
"Here you go." Roseanne reached out.
Owen passed it to her.
Their fingers brushed accidentally during the handoff, causing him to catch his breath.
Roseanne, however, didn't seem fazed as she took the rack, placed it in the pot, and began steaming the fish.
"Ahem! Anything else I can do to help?" Owen retracted his hand, clearing his throat.
Roseanne glanced over the counter, saying, "Hmm... All the sides are ready, and the seasonings are all set. Why don't you head on out? I've got the rest."
The kitchen, being in an old, compact house, felt instantly more spacious with him out of it.
Was it just Roseanne's imagination, or did the air seem to cool down a bit too?
Twenty minutes later—
Roseanne turned off the stove, removed her apron, and brought the dishes to the table.
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