“Then we both go home. And I’ll feel really shitty and I’ll apologize any way you want me to. But it can’t hurt to try, can it?”

Nolan didn’t say anything to that. He just looked at me again, but at least he wasn’t disagreeing. And maybe, just maybe, I could make those looks work in my favor.

I took a step forward and placed a hand on his chest. He’d left the top button of his shirt undone, and the one beneath it was missing. His skin was warm under my fingertips.

“Please?” I didn’t have to make my voice breathy. It did that all on its own.

Nolan swallowed. His dark eyes looked deep into mine, then traveled to where my hand lay on his chest. But he didn’t step away.

“Please,” I whispered.

I sank to my knees, letting my hand trail down his chest, then move lower still. But he grabbed my wrist when it reached his waist, not letting me go any farther. He pulled my hand up, which ended up pulling me to my feet too. I growled in frustration.

“Come on, would it really be that bad to—”

“I want one thing clear,” Nolan said, cutting off my objection.

“What?”

“If we do this, it’s just for the show. And if we make it to the finals, the deal is off. We don’t owe each other anything, and we’re not—”

“God, yes, yeah. I got it. It’s just for the show. Message received.”

Nolan gave me a long look. “Good. As long as we’re straight.”

“Oh, sweetie, I’ve never been straight a day in my life.” I grinned, but Nolan’s eyes narrowed, and I held my hands up in apology. “But yes. Okay. We’re clear.”

He gestured towards his workstation, the spatula still dripping lightly into the sink. “And we probably shouldn’t do…this…again, either. Don’t want to get things mixed up.”

How did he manage to do that? Not five minutes ago, he was telling me to let go, praising me for telling him what I needed—and I’dlikedit, which was something I didn’t have the brain space to deal with right now. But now he acted like I disgusted him.

Well, joke’s on you, asshole. I know you enjoyed it. I can see how hard you are, even if you won’t let me touch you.

I shrugged. “Whatever you want.”

If I sounded a little bitter, so be it. Nolan was the one who didn’t want feelings involved, so I had no reason to care about hurting his.

“Alright, then.” He nodded, then headed for the back of the tent.

I turned around to grab my clothes. It didn’t take long to get dressed, though I took my time about it. I wanted a minute to compose myself. But when I turned back around, Nolan was still there.

When I met his eyes, he held the tent flap open like he was holding a door for me. I stared for a moment before shaking my head. Figuring out what made Nolan tick wasn’t my problem.

I walked over and pressed an obnoxiously loud kiss to his cheek. He grimaced, and I grinned.

“See you tomorrow, pumpkin.”

8

Nolan

“Okay, don’t kill me, but which one’s the tablespoon again?”

Aiden’s voice, lilting and panicked, cut through the hubbub of the baking tent on Monday, and I suppressed a sigh. This was the tenth time in the past twenty minutes that he’d asked me a question during the challenge episode.

The way things were going, I would be lucky to get my pie in the oven at all. But he was determined to play up our supposed relationship, which apparently involved asking me questions every five seconds. And I, idiot that I was, had agreed to it.

I made sure I was smiling before I looked up and saw him holding a ring of measuring spoons, confusion painting his face. Jesus. How had this kid thought he could make it on a baking show? Why had he even wanted to audition?