Roseanne chuckled, "Ohe 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, gentlyid it on a te, 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, thankfullysted just a moment - too quick to be awkward. "Here you go." Roseanne reached out.


    Owen passed it to her.


    Their fingers brushed identally during the handoff, causing him to catch his breath.


    Roseanne, however, didn''t seem fazed as she took the rack, ced 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 nced 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,pact 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 minutester-


    Roseanne turned off the stove, removed her apron, and brought the dishes to the table. Owen hadn''t been idle either, having already set the cemats and silverware.


    "Isn''t there a soup still in the kitchen? I''ll get it." He didn''t wait for a response, already heading to the kitchen. Indeed, a creamy mushroom soup hadn''t been served yet.


    Roseanne nced at his


    figure, mom


    at the fridge. After a


    , she stood and took


    cans of beer.


    Turning around, she found herself caught in Owen''s calm gaze, feeling inexplicably sheepish. "Um... Leda came over the other day, and we got these. Care for one, Mr. Reynolds?"


    Her words hung in the air, and Roseanne wondered why she felt the need to justify herself.


    Seeing her evasive look, a hint of amusement flickered in Owen''s eyes. "I''ve gotb work this afternoon, better not." "Oh. Then I..." Roseanne hesitated.


    Owen just looked at her.


    Roseanne swallowed. "...maybe I shouldn''t either?"


    "Right. Let''s eat."


    With no other choice, Roseanne reluctantly put the beers back.


    They settled at the table, and Roseanne took a deep breath, standing up to address Owen with a serious tone:


    "Mr. Reynolds, I want to thank you for your support and assistance during this time. Without your generosity in sharing yourb, 4''d probably still be lost in self-doubt, afraid to take the next step. This belongs to N?velDrama.Org - ?.


    "I''d like to... propose a toast with soup, in lieu of beer."


    She had initially wanted to use the beer for this moment.


    But since Owen abstained, she improvised with what was avable.


    "I merely offered you a space; you did all the work and analysis yourself."


    He downyed his contributions,


    veloet


    but Roseanne knew better. Labs are personal spaces, filled with


    important data and confidential files.


    His willingness to let here and go as she pleased spoke volumes of his trust in her.