Free Taste: A Love Story by Tracy Ewens

of the other things you’re growing right now and how they correlate to your fall menu.”
    They went around most of Logan’s expansive yard, every inch dedicated to growing something. Carrots and peas, he explained, were ready and would be included in their stew and a split pea Travis liked to do with a ham hock. He showed her his herbs and three different types of garlic. All of it was heirloom, when he could find it, and organic. Kara knew enough about food to be impressed. Logan even had a large flower garden that supplied daily flowers for his restaurant. He cut them himself and brought them in every few days. The term “labor of love” was thrown around a lot in the restaurant world, but this, what Logan was doing, truly was that. Everything he grew and used, including the vendors he worked with, needed to be in line with his beliefs about sustainability and food integrity. Kara put her hand to her stomach, unsure if she was hungry or simply dizzy from him.
    “We currently have five kinds of tomatoes, all heirloom and all delicious.” He picked a small cherry tomato and handed it to Kara.
    She rubbed her thumb over the deep red surface.
    “Try it.”
    “I’m not hungry, but thank you.” She handed it back to him. “They are beautiful and I’m sure they’re—”
    Logan put the tomato in his mouth, closed his eyes, and chewed. “God, I never get tired of the flavor. It’s like you can actually taste the sun in them, ya know?”
    Kara didn’t know, but his eyes met hers again and she wondered if he could see the want. She hadn’t expected it, but her stomach fluttered again. It was clearly hunger, almost a craving.
    “I’m sure they’re delicious. They look beautiful.”
    Logan held her gaze for a beat longer than was comfortable and then turned to the house.
    “So, this is 920 Seco Street, used to be 251 Las Robles.” He gestured to the house and grinned as if he was introducing an old friend. The edge she had noticed when she first arrived was gone; the exhaustion in his eyes softened.
    “Oh, that’s right. It was moved,” Kara said, flipping the page of her small notebook. “I pulled up some history back at the office, but tell me a little about it. What makes it special for you?”
    “I could talk your ear off about this house, so I’ll try to stick to the top three reasons I love it,” he said. “Greene and Greene built the house about a year after they started their architecture firm back in 1895. They were starting out, new and uncertain, kind of like me. I like that.”
    He walked up the three steps of the white-painted porch and held the screen door open for her. She walked in and stumbled a bit as she tried to take in the honey wood floors, the sunny yellow and white colors of his home. She steadied herself by grabbing a small wooden chair. It was one of four chairs tucked around a round wooden table a few steps from the side entrance they’d already walked through. Kara ran her hand along the curve of the wood. She needed a minute, so she asked a question.
    “What’s the second thing?”
    Logan stood in front of the couch. It had a cream-colored slipcover and Kara found herself wondering where he got the couch. Did he pick it up at a clever little secondhand furniture store one Sunday morning after breakfast with his girlfriend? Had she helped him decorate? Was she everywhere in the tiny house and Kara didn’t even know?
    “Kara?”
    “Oh, sorry. I was just looking around. Sorry.” Kara looked back down at her notebook. “So what was your number two again?”
    “The design. It’s practical, but there are little touches, a few pocket doors, some glass knobs, that give it detail. I like the clean lines with a little twist.”
    “Spice,” Kara added without even realizing she was speaking.
    “Exactly. It’s a solid meal, hearty, but with a little spice.”
    Their eyes held and there it was again, the pause that was heavy with memories. Logan broke first this time.
    “And