Page 68 of The Baking Games

"Good morning, Connor," Savannah says with just about as much loathing in her voice as can fit. It makes me smile.

We start filling our plates with food. Savannah seems awfully hungry this morning for such a small person, but I'm not saying a word. I've learned never to speak about how and what a woman eats. It's not worth getting smacked in the face or something. I also pile my plate high with food because I don't know when we will eat again. Sometimes, these little field trips out of the house take a long time, and we don't get fed a real meal until the evening.

"So, Rhett, I have some questions for you," Connor suddenly says.

"Oh, goody. I was hoping you would," I say, looking down at my plate, trying my best to ignore him. He's impossible to ignore. He's like a fly buzzing around your face.

"I know you work on yachts with celebrities. Tell us who some of those celebrities are."

"He can't tell you, Connor. He signed nondisclosure agreements," Savannah says, obviously trying to save me. It's never going to be enough for Connor, though.

"Nondisclosure agreements. That seems a little silly, given that you're just cooking for them."

"Well, that's how business works," I say, biting into a piece of bacon.

"What kinds of yachts have you worked on?"

"What do you mean, what kinds? Like brands?"

"Yeah," Connor says, taking a bite of a biscuit that he has loaded with egg, cheese, and bacon.

"I don't know. I don't pay any attention to what the brands are."

Connor stares at me for a long moment. "Really? The brands are pretty important."

"If you say so," I say, sipping my coffee. I don't know what he's up to, but it's nothing good.

"So what do you do, exactly?"

"I cook desserts for celebrities. I thought that was pretty obvious.”

"And that's it?"

"What else would it be?"

"I don't know. I just figured you'd have some other stories to regale us with. After all, riding out on the ocean in a yacht with a celebrity seems like it would give you plenty of stories to tell."

"Maybe I just don't want to tell them to you, Connor," I say, standing and leaning over the table. I'm way bigger than this guy. I could snap him like a twig. If this came to a physical confrontation, I would have no question about that. But unfortunately, Connor likes to spar with words. He likes to get under your skin, and I'm not letting him do it.

"Connor, what is your problem?" Savannah asks, looking at him.

"This doesn't involve you, Savannah. I'm talking to your boyfriend here."

"He's not my boyfriend." The way she says it actually makes my heart hurt a little bit. I'm not her boyfriend, but maybe I would like to be. I don't know. I try not to think about it too hard.

"You know, one of my bosses in college had a yacht. Well, his uncle did. He was quite wealthy. He took me out on it a few times."

"That's a riveting story,” I say dryly, still looking down at my plate because I really don't want to engage with this guy.

"So, what kind of water toys did it have?"

"Water toys?"

"Yeah, jet skis, things like that."

"Oh, I don't know. I don't really get to play around with water toys while I'm working." I make air quotes around the phrase “water toys.”

"What kind of safety drills do you have to do? I'm sure since you're out on them a lot, it must be pretty intense, especially with a celebrity on board."

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