Juniper turned her red face to glare at the man beside her.
The completely "whipped" man looked back at her, a lazy, proud smirk playing on his lips.
Was he actually proud of it?
Absolutely. Being whipped by her was an honor.
"We need to head to the med-research institute. We can't stay for dinner," Shanley said, standing up and keeping a firm grip on Juniper's hand.
"Wait!" Miranda dashed into the kitchen and emerged with an elegant lunchbox. "I made this myself. Juniper, you have to try it."
"You cooked?" Shanley pulled Juniper back a half-step, a look of distinct horror crossing his handsome face.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Miranda's smile vanished, replaced by a defensive pout. "I've been taking classes. I'm actually really good now."
"I'll test it first." Shanley reached for the box. He had vivid, traumatic memories of his mother's culinary disasters, and he wasn't about to let Juniper suffer the same fate.
"Thank you, Miranda." Juniper stepped past him, smoothly taking the lunchbox with a warm smile. "I'll make sure to finish it."
"Wonderful!" Miranda patted Juniper's hand affectionately, beaming with maternal pride. "If you like it, I'll make it for you all the time."
In the car.
Juniper opened the lunchbox. The top tier featured adorable, perfectly shaped little rice balls. The bottom tier held several delicately stir-fried dishes. The presentation wasn't Michelin-star quality, but it was clear that an immense amount of effort had gone into it.
Juniper picked up her fork. Just as she was about to take a bite, Shanley stopped her. "Let me try it first. My mother's cooking is—"
Juniper ignored him, popping a piece of sliced meat into her mouth. She chewed thoughtfully, then a smile bloomed on her face. She picked up another piece and fed it to Shanley.
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