Page 19 of A Perfect Match
“You’ll win second place,” I clarify.
She harrumphs and stalks away, leaving a trail of squished muffins.I try not to stare as she walks away, so I force my gaze over to Pat.He’s got a big grin on his face, giving me a double thumbs up.
“So good it’s like you planned it in advance!”he calls out.
Maybe it seems that way to him.
But becoming the landlord and neighbor to the one-night stand of my fantasies was never something I could have planned.The pricklier Piper becomes, the more desperate I am to tap into thewhy.
She melted like sugar in coffee when I met her in Cleveland.And now she’s harder to crack than a frozen marshmallow.
I know I should let it go.I don’t have the time or energy to pursue the answer to a question I shouldn’t even be asking.
But I can’t let it go.
I’m not just going to find out why.
I’m going to take first place in the competition while I figure it out.
CHAPTER SEVEN
PIPER
“And your challenge for today…” The dramatic reality show host voice booms out of the TV.“…the recipe must includechutney.”
The camera switches between each contestant’s reaction.Kru’s face suddenly fills the screen, and something hot zips through me.I’ve been holed up in Griffin’s living room since yesterday evening after work, binge watching the food truck reality show competition that featured Maverick Daly and Kru, among others.Maverick’s girlfriend—or maybe she’s a wife now?—Scarlett is featured on the show as well, another Bayshore native.It’s wild to see people from my hometown on the big screen.It’s even wilder to see a younger Kru here—flat-billed ballcaps galore, long hair on one side, shaved underneath.Every inch a punk chef.
This reality TV show was filmed maybe three years ago, and the Kru I met in that club—and now conduct business beside—seems so different from this kid on the screen.Now that I see this punk chef on the show, I understand the wiliness in his gaze.I’m connecting the dots about why he promised I’d come in second place.
All of it just makes me want to know more about him…and see what would happen if we found ourselves alone again in a hotel room for a night.
I reach for the bowl of popcorn at my side.I need to distract myself from those thoughts.
I couldn’t possibly make a return to sexy time with that man after all the frustrating incidents accumulating between us.
But I can’t possibly forget about the chemistry we shared, either.
I’ve settled in nicely to Griff’s house, I must say.He’s a neat freak and keeps a cozy home.Combined with the fact that he’s not often home, this might be a more ideal situation that I wanted to acknowledge.I snuggle deeper into the black and rust red Cleveland Crushers throw blanket.Most of my household things are boxed up in his garage, but all my essentials have been unpacked into the spare bedroom—so this feels like half vacation, half temporary housing.
My attention snaps back to the television once the story returns to Kru.He’s telling the camera how unfamiliar he is with chutney, but he’s relying on Google and vibes for this challenge.I fight back a smile as he winks.The man is too charming for his own good.
“Piper?”
The deep voice of my older brother shocks me out of my skin.I am too stunned to even gasp.All I can think of is the fact that I’m watching Kru on his big screen TV, and I absolutely must hide this evidence before Griff catches me.
“Griffin?”I squeak.I dive for the remote, but I lose it in the fluffy folds of the blanket.
“Whatcha doing?”His voice grows nearer, as do the thuds of his footsteps through the kitchen.
“Just watching some TV.”I struggle to keep my voice calm.Where the hell is this damn remote?“Are you back early?”
“Early?”He laughs as he towers over the back of the couch.“Do you even know what time it is?”
“Of course.”My voice is pinched as I lift up the blanket, fanning it out.No remote.And worse yet, I’m realizing I lost track of time in a huge way.“It’s…the evening.”
His gaze slides to the TV just as something pops and fizzes on screen.Then there’s a booming, “Holy shit, Kru!You exploded the chutney!”
Griffin squints at the screen.“Is that yourlandlord?”
