Page 47 of My Irresistible Enemy

I rolled my eyes, but smiled when I noticed Em was filming us again.

It wasn’t as hard as I’d expected, honestly, pretending to like Aiden. Which was weird, but I pushed the thought out of my head. There were more important things to concentrate on. My own pie, for one thing, and making sure Aiden didn’t ruin his for a second time.

I thought I was doing pretty well on both those fronts until I heard a whispered, “Oh no,” from Aiden’s direction forty-five minutes later.

I scanned his workstation, searching for the problem, but I didn’t see anything. His recipe was pinned underneath a couple of mixing bowls, which sat next to a lump of dough that probably should have been in the fridge or freezer, but that wasn’t a disaster. A rolling pin teetered close to the edge of the counter, but that was it. His pie was still in the oven, and nothing smelled burnt, nothing looked like it had fallen on the floor.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

Aiden winced. “Okay, don’t be mad, but I might have forgotten to add the lattice top. Again.”

I started to laugh. I couldn’t help it. He couldn’t have messed up more if he’d tried. It was getting to the point where I was starting to wonder if maybe itwasall an act. Maybe Aiden was an amazing baker, and all the fuck-ups were just for show.

Aiden glanced at me suspiciously. “Why aren’t you yelling at me? Not that I don’t appreciate it, but I feel like I broke your brain.”

“Would yelling at you help anything?” I asked, still chuckling.

“It might make you feel better.”

“Point. But it wouldn’t help your pie at all.”

“I think my pie is beyond repair at this point,” Aiden sighed.

“No.” I shook my head. “No, we arenotgoing to let your first successful bake in this tent fall apart over some stupid latticework. I refuse.”

“Is this because I said it would reflect on you and not on me?” Aiden asked, a smile quirking the corner of his lip.

“Maybe. But still. We’re gonna fix this.”

“How, though? If I try to add it on now, it won’t be done when the rest of the pie is. And if we leave it in long enough to fully bake, the rest of the pie would burn, right?”

“That is quite possibly the most coherent thing I’ve ever heard you say about baking,” I told him, walking over to his oven to peek at the pie. It looked surprisingly decent.

Aiden crossed his arms. “I can’t tell if that’s a compliment or an insult.”

“Maybe a little bit of both.” I pointed to the leftover dough on his station. “Luckily, we don’t have to do a true lattice. Your pie is just supposed to havesomekind of topping, right? Just take this, roll it out, and cut it into little stars or something with cookie cutters. You can bake those on a separate sheet and leave them in while your pie comes out to cool. You should be able to get them at least mostly baked, and then you can just pop them on top right before Vivian and Tanner call time.”

“Oh my God, that’s actually smart.”

“See, now I can’t tell ifthat’sa compliment or an insult.” I grinned. “So we’re even. Now come on, get to work. Those stars aren’t going to cut themselves.”

The rest of the time flew by in a rush of sugar and egg wash and the thick, sweet scent of baking fruit. I was surprised the air wasn’t pink and purple, given how lush and pungent everything smelled, and I was thrilled with the way my pie looked once I pulled it out to cool.

The judges called us up one-by-one to bring our pies to the table at the front of the tent. When they called my name, Aiden wolf-whistled. I rolled my eyes, but somehow, knowing he was watching did make me a little less nervous about standing in front of the judges.

Or maybe it just made me nervous about different things. After all, it was hard to worry too much about what Tanner and Vivian were going to say when I was already busy worrying about what would come out of Aiden’s mouth next. But not only did they like the pie, I actually made it through the whole exchange without tripping over my tongue.

“I have to admit, I was skeptical,” Tanner said. “But if we didn’t have to try so many more pies today, I’d have a second mouthful of that.”

“It’s just as well,” Aiden called from the back of the tent. “Nolan’s very stingy about who he allows to take mouthfuls of his…pie.”

They’d edit that out, right?

Even more surprising was that when it was time for Aiden to bring his pie to the front, I discovered I was nervous for him. He was the last contestant to be judged, and I wasn’t sure if it was because I’d helped, or if I was just getting into the whole liking-each-other ruse, but I found myself flashing him an encouraging smile. Stranger still, he returned it, without a single snarky remark.

“So, Aiden,” Vivian said. “Before even tasting anything, I have to say, this is the best-looking bake you’ve produced so far. For once, I’m not afraid of what will happen to me if I eat a bite of this. Well done.”

“It doesn’t look raworburnt,” Tanner agreed. “For most people, I’d say that should be a baseline expectation, but for you—”

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