Page 53 of The Sweetest Ingredient

Bishop stayed close, his hands tenderly cradling my face. He stared into my eyes with a look of long-held yearning, then his gaze lowered to my lips. Tilting his head, his mouth met mine in a passionate kiss that had my toes curling and my heart doing somersaults. He held me firmly, his hands sliding down to my waist. The embrace became fiery and intense as I wrapped my arms around him and the world disappeared. He deepened the kiss, and every nerve in my body awakened, leaving me breathless and dizzy.

When we pulled apart, I swayed. Those romance novels didn’t prepare me for kissing Bishop, which was hotter than any bakery oven—particularly the part where my brain went all fuzzy and my knees forgot how to work.

Chapter Twenty

Bishop had kissed me, and I was still feeling woozy, lightheaded. My boss was basking in the sweet victory of winning the baking contest, while I stood there outside the booth with him amid congratulatory pats on the back and high-fives.

I glanced at my handsome boss with a grin. Bishop’s expression was ablaze with a happiness that echoed the fluttering in my chest.

“Kenzi, you okay?” Bishop asked.

I yearned to draw him close again, to bask in his warmth and rediscover the taste of him. I had never felt quite so alive, so perfectly present in a single blissful moment.

“I’m fine. Just, uh, taking it all in.”

He nodded, his grin wide. “It has been a big day.”

And then, like a soufflé collapsing under its own weight, that knot of guilt settled in my gut. I had to come clean to Bishop about my deception, especially after that kiss.

A kiss that had changed everything.

As people dispersed from our booth, I knew I had to tell him about my fraudulence. The thought of possibly losing my job and Bishop’s affections deflated some of my happiness, but he deserved to know the truth at last.

“Bishop? Can I talk to you in private?”

We stepped away from the stall, Jordan, and the remaining guests. Bishop stopped under the shade of an oak tree, its leafy canopy providing shade from the sun and partly concealing us from the rest of the bake-off. At our stall, Jordan was playing tug-a-war with Mochi over an oven mitt.

“Okay, so this is going to sound really bad, but please let me finish before you freak out. The truth is…” I sucked in a deep breath, blowing it out. “When I first came to Doughy Desires, there was this really funny misunderstanding, and?—”

“Cousin.” Maxwell appeared out of nowhere with an unsettling smirk. “Please, don’t let me interrupt.”

My nerves frayed. This was the last thing I needed right now—Bishop’s nemesis swooping in as I was about to confess my secret.

“Maxwell,” Bishop said through clenched teeth. “What do you want?”

Maxwell folded his arms, glancing between me and Bishop. “I believe congratulations are in order for the bakery’s win, cousin.”

“Thank you.” Bishop nodded curtly, his body taut. “Was there anything else?”

Maxwell sneered, his eyes flashing. “Oh, yes. There’s something you should know about your girlfriend...”

I stared at Maxwell and all the blood rushed to my head. A sense of dread settled like an icy stone in my gut. Where was he going with this?

“Maxwell, I swear if this is another one of your ridiculous attempts to undermine me?—”

Maxwell raised a hand, silencing him. “Your bakery may have won the contest, but let’s be honest, Kenzi’s no professional baker. I bet she couldn’t even tell the difference between baking powder and sugar a few months ago.”

A cold panic gripped me. How in the world does he know?

“What makes you say that?” Bishop snapped, his voice as gruff as sandpaper against wood.

Maxwell chuckled, though the sound held no warmth. “Funny thing, I was out the other day and overheard Kenzi and her friend chatting about how Kenzi’s been lying to you about her baking experience. She’s been deceiving you for months. You see, they were so engrossed in their conversation, they didn’t notice me walking right behind them.”

I grimaced, remembering that exact conversation with Chantel the day she’d visited the bakery and we went for a walk. I distinctly remembered a loud gasp, but when I’d turned, the sidewalk was empty. Maxwell could’ve easily slipped into a nearby shop to hide.

His stare glinted with malicious satisfaction as he watched the play of emotions across Bishop’s face. “The woman betrayed you, and I thought you had a right to know, cousin,” Maxwell said, drawing out the last word with a mocking tone that suggested anything but familial affection. “She’s an imposter, who’s been playing you for the fool. And I couldn’t stand by and watch you be made a mockery of—not when it’s so clear how little she respects you or the art of baking. It’s pitiful, really, how easily you were duped by a pretty face.” Maxwell’s tone was cruel, calculated, and made my blood run cold.

Bishop stared at me, his breathing ragged. I opened my mouth to speak, yet no sound came out. Silence hung between us, taut and fragile, like a thread poised on the brink of snapping.

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