Ana and her spices
"But, my darling," he began, and he looked so pathetically, politely baffled that Ana bit her lip to keep from kissing the tip of his nose to turn him red. "What's wrong with just butter?" he said at last.
"Butter is fine," she said, holding the plate of cookies up higher between them. "Butter is luscious and lovely and it makes everything better."
"Butter biscuits are very fine," he said. "I happen to quite enjoy a good shortbread."
She shrugged. "I am happy to experiment with butter. However, your upbringing has tricked you into believing it is a flavor. It is not a flavor; it is an ingredient. I do not find that enough, do you?"
Edwin didn't dare break eye contact as he picked up one cookie as though it might actually snap at him. "It's a rather alarming color."
"It's not alarming." Ana lifted her chin triumphantly. "It's paprika."
"What?"
"And cinnamon," she said. "I am going very gently with you, Edwin. I know you need training up for me. Why don't you try it and see how you like it before I can graduate you to the real stuff, hmm?"
He considered. "I'll do it if you will," he said, acquiescing just a little.
Ana smirked, and kept her eyes on his as they bit into the cookie at the same time.