Page 74 of Cooking Up My Comeback

“Thank you for dragging me out here. For reminding me that business can be about more than just profit margins.”

“We make a good team,” she says.

“We do.”

And standing there on the ferry deck, watching the sun start its descent toward the horizon, I realize something has shifted. Not just in how we approach the restaurant, but in how we approach each other.

We’re not just business partners anymore. We’re not just friends who happen to work together.

We’re two people building something that matters,both professionally and personally. And for the first time in years, that doesn’t scare me.

It’s like coming home.

The ferry docks just as the sun disappears behind the mainland, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold. We walk back to our cars in comfortable silence.

“Same time next week?” Amber asks as we reach her car, turning to face me in the soft twilight.

“You planning more market research?”

“I’m planning more time with my partner. The market research is just a bonus.”

“Partner,” I repeat, testing the word.

“Partner,” she confirms. “In every sense that matters.”

She’s standing close enough that I can see the gold flecks in her brown eyes and that the evening breeze carries the scent of her shampoo. Something shifts in her expression—softer, more vulnerable—and this is the moment I’ve been waiting for without knowing it.

“Amber,” I say quietly.

“Yeah?”

“I’m really glad you suggested this trip.”

“Me too.”

“And I’m really glad you’re not the kind of person who gives up when things get complicated.”

“Are we complicated?” she asks, but she’s smiling.

“Completely.” I reach up to tuck astrand of hair behind her ear, my hand lingering against her cheek. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Her breath catches slightly. “Brett?—”

“Can I kiss you?” I ask, because after everything we’ve shared today, everything we’ve built together, I need to know this is what she wants too.

“I was wondering when you’d ask,” she whispers.

I lean down slowly, giving her time to change her mind, but she rises up to meet me halfway. When our lips touch, it’s gentle at first—tentative, sweet, like we’re both afraid this might be too good to be real.

But then she sighs softly against my mouth, and her hands find the front of my shirt, and suddenly there’s nothing tentative about it. The kiss deepens, warm and sure and full of all the promise we’ve been dancing around for weeks.

When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing a little unsteadily. I rest my forehead against hers, trying to memorize this moment—the way she looks in the fading light, the way she fits perfectly in my arms, the way this seems to be the most natural thing in the world.

“Wow,” she says softly.

“Good wow or bad wow?”

“Definitely good wow.” She laughs, and the sound makes something warm unfurl in my chest. “Though I should probably get home before Tally sends out a search party.”