Page 75 of The Baking Games

I scream like I’ve won the lottery and then run out from behind my station to join the others. On my way, several people high-five me. I don’t know if anyone has ever high-fived me before.

Then I see him. Rhett.

He’s standing there next to my station, smiling. He looks like a proud father who’s just taught his daughter to ride a bike. He looks so happy, and it throws me off a bit. He seems happier for me than he was for himself when he won.

“Congratulations,” he says, squeezing my shoulder. Electrical zaps ping around my body like the whole thing is shorting out.

“Thank you,” I say softly.

“Can I buy you a sandwich?” he asks with a wink. We don’t buy anything here, but I think it’s his way of offering to make me a sandwich. It’s kind of cute.

“Sure,” I say, following the group back into the main house.

I sit at the breakfast bar with Maggie while the others disperse to different areas. Rhett goes to the refrigerator and sticks his head inside.

“Okay, ladies, I’ve got ham, turkey, and Swiss cheese…”

“I’ll take turkey,” Maggie says.

“Same,” I say, enjoying the view of Rhett’s backside a little more than I care to admit.

“Turkey it is!”

He pulls out the turkey, cheese, lettuce, mayo, and mustard and retrieves a loaf of bread from the pantry. I enjoy watching him do the mundane tasks of making a sandwich. It feels nice. Familiar.

I keep reminding myself that this isn’t reality. It might be called a “reality show,” but there’s nothing real about being followed by cameras and microphones all day and knowing millions of people are watching your every move.

And there’s nothing real about Rhett’s caring for me. Even though I never agreed to be in a fake relationship with him, Rhett would do what he needed to win. This is obviously a part of that.

Now that we’re not chained together anymore, he has to go out of his way to look like he’s spending time with me. It’s helping his game, I’m sure. Maybe it’s even helping my game.

And I’m okay with it. He’s being a nicer version of himself, and I just won my first main challenge. Life is good right now.

“Congrats on your win, Savannah.”

Life was good.

For some inexplicable reason, Connor is standing behind me. He just congratulated me, and it sounded authentic. Nothing Connor says or does is authentic.

“Yeah, thanks,” I say, rolling my eyes. Rhett’s jaw clenches as he pauses his work.

“And what else, Connor?” he says.

“What do you mean?”

“I know there’s some snide remark waiting to fall from your thin lips.” I want to laugh. Rhett is right. Connor has thin lips.

Connor sighs. “Look, man, don’t try to start trouble with me. I was simply congratulating Savannah on a well-deserved win. That cake was super creative.”

“Thanks, Connor.” I say it just to get him to go away, and it works.

“What was that all about?” Maggie asks under her breath.

Rhett continues working on the sandwiches. “He’s a snake. I wouldn’t trust a thing he says.”

“Oh, believe me, I don’t. I know better than anybody that he’s not to be trusted.”

Rhett slides the sandwiches over to Maggie and me. He also pours each of us a glass of sweet tea and throws a bag of sour cream and onion potato chips between us before sitting down at the bar across from us with his own sandwich.