Owen Reynolds cleared his throat awkwardly and admitted, "Uh... I haven''t had dinner yet."


    Roseanne noticed the tips of his ears turning red and couldn''t help but find it amusing, but she held back herughter, worried it might embarrass him even more.


    "How about some pasta?" she offered.


    Owen Reynolds nodded appreciatively. "I''d really appreciate that.”


    "Alright, Professor, make yourselffortable. I''ll get started on it."


    In addition to cooking the pasta, Roseanne fried an egg, tossed in some vegetables, andyered on slices of roast beef that Norris had made, finishing it off with a sprinkle of green onions and parsley.


    A hearty bowl of pasta was ready in no time.


    She ced the bowl on the dining table and called out, "Professor, it''s ready. Come and eat."


    Owen Reynolds took a seat and began to dig in with gusto. He was genuinely hungry, and the pasta smelled amazing.


    Roseanne sat nearby, resting her chin in her hand, watching him eat. She hadn''t expected a man like Owen to eat pasta with such grace and elegance.


    He ate withrge bites, yet there was nothing crude about it. His expression was serious, his gaze focused. Anyone watching might think he was savoring some kind of gourmet cuisine.


    "Why are you staring at me like that?" Owen suddenly looked up, catching Roseanne''s curious gaze. He quickly swallowed his mouthful before asking.


    "Well, by watching you, I can tell whether my pasta is any good, and if it is, just how good it is."


    Owen''s ears flushed again, though it wasn''t obvious to anyone but himself. "You tter me."


    "Not at all. It''s called appreciation."


    No chef would be unhappy to see their food enjoyed so thoroughly.


    Owen nodded sincerely, "It''s really delicious."


    Roseanne beamed, "I''m d you like it. Is theb keeping you busy?"


    So busy he couldn''t even manage dinner?


    Owen confessed, "Not particrly busy, just the usual routine. It''s more that, well, I''m not great at cooking, and when I do try, it never tastes quite right..."


    In truth, he had be quite spoiled by Roseanne''s cooking.


    Halfway through his meal, Owen paused and asked, "Do you have any wine?"


    Roseanne was momentarily


    surprised, she usually offered Oweet , and he always declined t


    didn''t drink, nor did he let hoo


    He


    drink.


    Yet tonight, he was asking for it?


    Something seemed different about Owen Reynolds tonight, but she couldn''t quite put her finger on it.


    Mulling it over, Roseanne went to the fridge. "I''ve got some beer. Let me grab it for you."


    "Thanks."


    She returned with two cans of beer, catching Owen''s eye following her. "Do you want some too?" he asked.


    Roseanne shook her head, "These are both for you. I''ll just have a small ss."


    She went into the kitchen and came back with a small ss, setting it in


    front of Owen with a yful grin. "You wouldn''t begrudge me a little beer, would you, Professor?


    Owen chuckled, "Of course not. I''d share anything."


    He poured her a ss. "Is that enough?"


    Roseanne smiled, "Plenty."


    The ice-cold beer slid down her throat, sending a chill right to her core, making her shiver.


    Watching her, Owen smiled and took a big swig himself.


    Before long, Owen had polished off the entire bowl of pasta, even the broth, and emptied both cans of beer, save for that small ss.


    Perhaps it was the slight buzz of the alcohol, but the usuallyposed and reserved Mr. Reynolds suddenly had a lot more to say.