Page 35 of Sweet Rucking Temptation
I laugh as I jog towards the locker room, my steps already feeling lighter. The road ahead might be tough, but with Coach Finnegan in my corner, I'm starting to believe I can tackle anything – even my own doubts.
As I towel off my hair, a plan begins to form in my mind. I'll start with low-impact cardio, gradually build up my strength training, and focus on flexibility exercises. It's not the all-out assault I'm used to, but it feels right. For once, I'm not fighting my body; I'm working with it.
"Look at you, Snow," I mutter to my reflection. "Finally learning to chill out. The Iceman's gone slushy."
I chuckle at my own joke, feeling a spark of excitement I haven't felt in weeks. This new approach might just work. And who knows? Maybe taking it easy will give me time to explore other parts of my life. Like a certain baker with eyes that could melt glaciers...
14
Two weeks later
LIV
The scent of cinnamon and nutmeg dances through the air as I work the dough beneath my fingertips, its soft elasticity a familiar comfort. All around me, the competition kitchen buzzes with nervous energy—whisks clanging against metal bowls, ovens humming to life, and the occasional muffled curse from a frazzled contestant.
I catch Maia's eye across our shared workstation, and we exchange a quick smile. Her reassuring nod bolsters my confidence. "We've got this, tesoro," I whisper, the Italian endearment slipping out unconsciously.
"You bet your biscotti we do," Maia replies with a wink.
I giggle, my hands never stopping their rhythmic kneading. "Ouch, that was terrible."
"Hey, I'm trying here! Not all of us can drop Italian phrases as effortlessly as flour on our aprons."
I glance down at my flour-dusted front and grin. "It's my badge of honor, remember?"
As I shape the dough into a perfect circle, my mind wanders to Elliott. I wonder if he's as nervous about his match as I am about this bake-off. The thought of his steely determination—that look he gets when he's in "Iceman" mode—steadies my hands.
"Earth to Liv," Maia's voice cuts through my reverie. "Your dough's going to turn into bread if you keep working it like that."
"Oh! Thanks," I say, hastily setting the dough aside to rest. "Just got lost in thought for a moment."
"Thinking about a certain rugby player, perhaps?" Maia teases, her eyebrows wiggling suggestively.
I feel a blush creeping up my cheeks. "Maybe," I admit. "But right now, this pie is my only focus. Nonna's recipe is going to knock their socks off!"
"That's the spirit!" Maia cheers, raising her rolling pin like a trophy. "Now, let's show these amateurs how it's done!"
With a determined nod, I turn my attention back to the task at hand. The competition kitchen may be a far cry from my cozy cafe in Ponsonby, but with Nonna's recipes in my heart and Maia by my side, I'm ready to rise to any challenge.
I slide my bolognese pie into the oven, a satisfied smile playing on my lips. The aroma of simmering meat and herbs fills the air, mingling with the buzzing energy of the competition kitchen. But as I turn back to my workstation, something catches my eye.
"That's odd," I mutter, frowning at my spice rack. "Where's my?—"
My heart skips a beat as I realize my signature blend of Sicilian chili flakes is missing. I always keep it on the far left, a fiery pop of color among the earth-toned spices. But now there's just... empty space.
"No, no, no," I whisper, frantically rifling through my ingredients. "This can't be happening."
As panic begins to set in, a memory flashes through my mind: my ex-fiance Ricky's smug smile as he passed by the cafe earlier.
"That snake," I hiss, my fingers curling into fists. "He wouldn't dare..."
But even as I say it, I know he would. Ricky's never been one to play fair, especially not when his pride's on the line.
I take a deep breath, channeling my inner Elliott. What would he do in a moment like this? Probably something impossibly calm and collected, the jerk.
"Okay, Liv," I tell myself, "time to improvise. You've got this."
As I reach for my backup stash of red pepper flakes (always be prepared, that's my motto), I wonder how Elliott's match is going. Is he feeling as off-kilter as I am right now?
