Page 94 of The Baking Games

The only difference will be that I'll be missing her. I'll be thinking about her for the rest of my life. So, right now, I'm happy to be sitting here and enjoying this time with Savannah. I’m already pre-grieving what it's going to be like when we leave this house.

SAVANNAH

I cannot believe he did all of this for me. Our dinner conversation is fun and engaging. We talk about all kinds of things. I tell him stories from when I was in middle school. He tells me stories from when he was in high school.

We laugh at how different our opinions are on movies and books. He likes to read; I do, too. He likes to watch movies. That's one of my favorite things to do, although I usually can't afford to see them in the theater. He loves action-adventure movies. I like horror movies.

I talk about Sadie, our past, and growing up with our mother. I also talk about my grandmother and how much I loved her. He talks about his grandmother, too. Learning to bake from our grandmothers is something we have in common.

Once we’ve finished eating and have dessert, we sit at the table, laughing and chatting. I will miss this when the competition ends, but I know it's not real.

I know he's just playing pretend for the cameras to get us votes, and I appreciate it. I would like to get to the final two and battle it out, just me and him.

But I'm going to miss this interaction. I have a feeling that once we leave, maybe we'll text a few times, and then I'll never hear from Rhett again. He'll be on cruise ships or working in a fancy restaurant. I'll be back at the grocery store bakery, or if I'm lucky and win the competition, I'll start my own bakery. We have very different lives and very different plans.

Our lives would never work together. Not that he wants it to, anyway. I think he's doing all of this to get votes. But still, it's the most romantic evening I've ever had, so I'm going to soak it in. Between the food, the conversation, the twinkling lights, and the soft music, I don't think I ever want to go upstairs again.

"So, tell me about Lainey. How exactly did she end up helping you get dressed? You two hate each other.”

“Yeah, I thought so, too. Apparently, Connor broke up with her and told her he didn't want a serious relationship with anyone. Plus, he was mad that she told me about being in the shower. So she came into the bathroom crying while I was getting ready. We had a short conversation in which she asked why people don't like her.”

“And did you tell her?”

“Yeah, I gave her the tip of the iceberg, so to speak. I didn't want to crush her completely."

He laughs. "You're a very nice person, Savannah. Nicer than most.”

“I try to be. I think that Lainey has been led to believe that the only thing she has to offer is her looks.”

“Well, her personality isn't exactly the best," he says, chuckling.

"True, but I think that's a defense mechanism.”

“Maybe you should have become a psychologist."

I shrug my shoulders. "I've thought about it, but I like baking more.”

“Well, you could be the baking psychologist. Ask people all kinds of questions about their problems, and then instead of giving them real advice, just give them a doughnut."

I laugh out loud at that. "That might be a good idea. People like doughnuts more than advice.”

“Very true."

We sit there for a few more minutes when a slow song comes on the radio. "Oh, I love this song. It's one of my favorites," I say.

He stands up and reaches out his hand. "Shall we have our final slow dance in the house?"

I was hoping he would ask me. "Of course," I say, touching his large, warm hand. We stand up and walk away from the table a few feet beside the twinkle lights. I can't believe this is my life right now.

Rhett's arm slides around my waist, pulling me close, while his other hand holds mine gently but firmly. My free hand rests on his shoulder. His massive shoulder. I feel the strength of his muscles under the fabric of his dress shirt.

As we begin to sway to the music, I'm acutely aware of every point of contact between us. I can feel the warmth of his hand on my back, the slight pressure of his fingers intertwined with mine, and the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. The world seems to narrow down to just the two of us moving in perfect harmony.

"Remember when we used to argue about everything in pastry chef school?" Rhett says, his breath warm against my ear.

"Yes, I do. You were such a know-it-all," I say, resting my head against his chest. Wearing heels makes me much taller, so I can almost reach his shoulder.

"And you were so stubborn," he counters in a playful tone. "Still are, actually."

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