Page 29 of The Baking Games

SAVANNAH

The whole kitchen is buzzing with activity, but at our station, we are having a small culinary debate between me and Rhett, of course. Maggie quietly observes as she preps our baking tools. The smell of sugar and flour floats through the air from each of the ovens while we stand here staring at each other, me with my hands on my hips.

"I really think that we should stick with chocolate chip cookies," I say, reaching for the large container of chocolate chips and holding them up as if Rhett doesn't know what they are. "They're a classic, beloved, and we can churn out a bunch of them really quickly."

He raises an eyebrow. "Savannah, ‘beloved’ doesn't have to mean boring. We're here to impress, not just participate. How about we make something a little more distinctive, like hazelnut-flavored white chocolate caramel cookies?"

I put my hands back on my hips again, tilting my head. "Rhett, this is not a competition. This is community service. We're supposed to be making these residents smile, not trying to overwhelm them with over-the-top flavors. They're not going to be judging us."

He scoffs, crossing his arms. "Everything is a competition, and we’re always being judged. If you're not cooking to impress, you're just standing around stirring."

"Well, that's a rather cynical way to look at baking for a good cause," I say. I scoop up a handful of chocolate chips and let them cascade from my fingers back into the container. "Besides, do you really think that we have time to fuss over your fancy cookies with caramel and whatever else it was that you said?" The corners of his mouth twitch, a telltale sign that he's holding back a smirk. I very rarely see a smile out of Rhett.

"I think you might just be scared of a little challenge, Sunny."

Maggie looks at me like she doesn't understand why he has suddenly started calling me by a different name.

"Oh, believe me, it's not a challenge," I say, leaning closer. "It's the chaos when you realize we've bitten off more than we can chew, literally and figuratively."

Before he can say anything else, Maggie steps between us, her voice slicing right through our banter. "Kids, we’re baking cookies today, correct? Or is this going to go on for a few more hours?” She looks back and forth between us, a look that was a mix of exasperation and amusement.

Rhett and I exchange a glance. "You know what? Maggie's right," I say. "Let's just find a middle ground. How about we do a little bit of both? Make some chocolate chip cookies with caramel or hazelnut as a second flavor. That way, we can cater to all tastes."

Rhett sighs and nods. "Fine, but I'm making sure those hazelnut cookies are the star of the show."

"Right. And I'll make sure that the chocolate chip cookies remind everyone just how great simplicity can taste," I say, turning around.

Maggie laughs, shaking her head as she measures the flour. "You two remind me of an old married couple, always bickering but wouldn't know what to do without each other."

Rhett and I both exchange quick, embarrassed glances. We return to work without talking because what else is there to say?

CHAPTER 9

RHETT

As the shuttle bus hums along down the road toward the assisted living home, I'm holding a giant bowl of cookies in my lap. They're a mixture of Savannah's chocolate chip cookies and my chocolate hazelnut cookies that I finally settled on after a while. The mingling scents are oddly comforting, giving me a little bit of a distraction from the competition. Looking out my window, my thoughts drift not to the competition, which is usually the thing at the forefront of my mind, but to the banter that I had with Savannah in the kitchen.

There's just something about her persistent optimism that's less grating when you work alongside her rather than against her. Maybe it's her competence showing through, or maybe it's just the fact that she's familiar to me, having known her from school. Either way, I find myself begrudgingly starting to respect her a bit more, even if I'm not ready to admit anything beyond that or call it a friendship.

The bus takes a corner, and the cookies shift slightly in their container. I adjust my hold, my thoughts temporarily focused on the task ahead. We will be delivering a bit of joy, which is an aspect of the competition that feels slightly refreshing. It makes me think of my grandmother, who was in assisted living in her later years. I hated that she was there, but at the time, I was in school and couldn't do much about it. My mother and father were way too busy to care for her, and instead of hiring someone with the vast amounts of money they have, they chose to put her in a nice, assisted living home, out of sight, out of mind for a lot of that time. It made me sad.

As I think about that, I overhear a snippet of conversation from where Connor sits two rows ahead. His voice is laced with sneer, and it cuts through the hum of the bus engine.

"You know, if Savannah thinks playing the sweet and simple baker will get her the win, then she's dumber than I thought. This isn't some charity bake sale." He's talking to Lainey, who is sitting next to him, and he's doing very little to keep his voice quiet. He's obviously trying to rattle Savannah while also playing up to the camera recording him. This guy wants to be “reality TV famous.” I do not. I want to win the money and move on with my life.

My grip on the bowl tightens, and a hot flash of anger suddenly surges through me. It's one thing to compete, but it's another to belittle someone's efforts and intentions, especially someone who seems as genuine as Savannah. I hadn't realized until now just how low Connor could stoop or how much his words about Savannah would bother me.

Savannah is sitting just behind him and just in front of me. She shifts quietly. I can see her silhouette stiffening as she looks out the window. Are her eyes watering? She doesn't respond, or maybe she didn't hear. It doesn't matter. The fact that Connor would say such a thing so publicly suddenly stirs something protective in me. I've always been competitive. I've always believed in playing hard but fair, but Connor is underhanded. It's not just poor sportsmanship. It's downright disgraceful.

The bus pulls into the assisted living home's parking lot and I set the bowl aside to prepare to get off. The simple task of delivering these cookies has taken on a new weight. Today isn't just about bringing joy through baking but also about showing who we are, not just as bakers but as people.

Whatever my feelings about Savannah, she doesn't deserve Connor's words, and though I'm not about to start singing her praises, I do find myself hoping that she'll prove him wrong somehow in a spectacular way. Today, I'm just here to help deliver cookies. I'm not here to stand up for somebody else in the competition.

As I walk to the front to step off the bus, I notice that Connor is taking a moment to get out of his seat. I might have let my shoulder bump him rather hard, causing him to drop his container onto the floor. His cookies didn't scatter, but I sure hope his confidence did.

SAVANNAH

As we walk through the doors of the assisted living center, a wave of warmth greets us, not just from the people who work there but from the bright smiles of the residents lined up in the lobby.

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