CAUGHT

CHAPTER THREE:

Owen's coworker Maria showed up at his desk the next morning with a container of meatballs. She was always doing things like bringing food from her mother's kitchen, her sister's bakery. Food was how Maria showed care.

"Try these," she said, setting the container down. "My mom made them yesterday."

Owen opened the container. The meatballs sat in a rich red sauce, steam still rising. They smelled good.

He took one and bit into it.

It was fine. More than fine. Well-made, flavored with herbs and something he couldn't identify. But as he chewed, his mind went somewhere else.

To Roots.

The way that pasta tasted was like someone had put thought into every element.

"These are good," Owen said. "But you know what's better? This place I went to. Roots. The food there is different."

Maria raised an eyebrow. "You've been there once and you're already comparing?"

"The pasta I had was the best thing I've eaten in months," Owen said. "The way everything was balanced, the freshness of it. It's not just good food. It's something else."

He stopped himself, noticing how he sounded. How passionate he was getting over a single meal.

Marcus, the coworker who'd originally recommended Roots, walked over and leaned against Owen's desk.

"Wait. Did you go to Roots yesterday? How did it go?"

"It was fine," Owen said, trying to backtrack. "Just a good meal."

But Maria was watching him now with that knowing look people got when they noticed something you didn't want noticed.

"How do you know their food is better if you've only been there once?" she asked. "You can't compare a single visit to a place you've never tried before."

"The pasta was perfect," Owen said. "I can tell when something is made with care and for Lucas.

He caught himself. Getting emotional about a person he'd met for maybe ten minutes total.

Marcus and Maria exchanged a look.

"Owen," Marcus said slowly. "You met Lucas three days ago when you went to eat?"

"We just talked for a minute. He came to clear my plate."

And?

"And nothing. He was friendly. The food was good."

Maria set down her coffee. "This is more than just food, isn't it? There's something you're not telling us."

Owen felt heat rise in his neck. "No, there's not. I'm just saying the restaurant is good."

But even as he said it, he knew they could see through him. The way he'd lit up talking about Lucas. The way he'd gotten defensive.

"Oh my God," Marcus said, grinning. "You like him."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Owen said, turning back to his computer.

"The chef," Maria said. "You like the chef."

"I don't. I met him for thirty seconds."

"And you're already talking about him like you've known him forever," Marcus said. "I've known you for three years. I've never heard you talk about anything like that."

Owen didn't respond. He just opened his email, trying to signal that the conversation was over. But his hands were shaking slightly as he typed.

The thing was, they weren't entirely wrong.

Something had shifted. In the car, listening to Lucas talk about permission and proving and belonging, Owen had felt something crack open inside him. A door he'd kept locked for years.

And now, thinking about Lucas, remembering the way he'd smiled, the careful way he drove, the way he'd listened but Owen couldn't pretend it was just about good food anymore.

By lunch, Owen found himself walking toward Roots without consciously deciding to. He told himself it was just hunger. But he knew the truth.

He wanted to see Lucas.

The restaurant was busy, the lunch crowd filling the tables. Rosa was working the front. When she saw Owen, she smiled as she recognized him.

"Welcome back so soon," she said. "You must have really liked the pasta."

"It was good," Owen said, his heart already beating faster. "Is Lucas in the kitchen?"

Rosa's smile got bigger. "Always in the kitchen. Let me tell him you're here."

"Wait" Owen started, but Rosa was already disappearing into the back.

A few minutes later, Lucas emerged, still wearing his chef's jacket, his hands probably still warm from cooking. When he saw Owen, something shifted in his expression.

Recognition, relief, or maybe something more. He was having mixed feelings if he would come back but he eventually did and that alone has lifted his mood for the day.

"You came back," Lucas said. "I wasn't sure if yesterday was just a moment."

Owen sat at the bar, suddenly unsure what he was doing here, what he wanted to say.

"I couldn't stop thinking about it," Owen said. "About what you said. About permission and proving. And about the food. It was the best thing I've tasted in a long time."

Lucas rested his back against the counter, his eyes on Owen. "That's good to hear. Are you hungry now?"

"Always," Owen said, and something in the way he said it made Lucas smile a real smile, not the professional one.

"Then let me make you something special," Lucas said. "Something I've been thinking about since I dropped you off yesterday."

As Lucas disappeared back into the kitchen, Owen sat at the bar and felt something emerge inside him. A feeling burned inside of him and he was ready to release but it was as though he didn't know the right time to burst and what Lucas' reaction would feel like.

This wasn't just about food anymore.

This was about wanting to know someone. About being willing to let someone know him back.

And that was both thrilling and terrifying.