Page 12 of Bake You Mine
“Wow, you must be taking this competition seriously.” Sasha paused at the end of the driveway to glance over at his phone. “Oh, never mind. You’re talking to…no, not Dani, Liam. I thought we’d been over this.”
Sasha and Dani were oil and water. They’d never gotten along, so her comment came as no surprise.
He set his phone on his thigh. “You don’t like it when I butt into your love life, how about you return the favor?”
She pulled up to the stoplight at the end of the street. The light changed, and she gunned it through the intersection.
Liam gripped the edge of his seat. “Take it easy.”
“You don’t have a love life. That’s why Ma worries. Your looks won’t last forever. You need to find a nice woman. AnotDani woman.”
“Just like you need to find a nice guy, not that douchebag you’re seeing.” He gestured out the windshield when she side-eyed him. “Eyes on the road, Sasha.”
“Sure thing, boss man.” She fired off a one-fingered salute.
It was a damned good thing he loved his car as much as he loved his sister.
After he sent a message to Dani, he opened one of his social media apps. He hated to admit it, but selfies got way more likes than any other posts. He should be grateful to have a platform that translated into income, but he’d started to grow tired of comments on food-related posts asking for more salacious photos, or comments like one that popped up on his screen.
If you’re gonna post pictures of salads, at least hold them up next to your abs, hot chef.
He dismissed the notification and clicked over to his Explore page to see which accounts were recommended to him. One of Aubrey’s posts was at the top. This wasn’t the first time she’d been suggested to him. In the past, he’d clicked over merely to see her engagement numbers: followers, number of likes, comments, etc. Her feed was filled with photos of her creating, fussy dessert photos, or the occasional candid shot with her kid. Not that she showed Daphne’s face.
The first photo on her feed was of the woman herself. He clicked on it, finding her leaning over Petit Chou’s marble counter, a notebook in front of her, and a pen resting on her chin. She wore a pastel pink, form-fitting dress.
In the photo, she leaned over the counter, exposing a fair amount of cleavage. His thoughts went from G to R, in .002 seconds flat, with all that luscious pale skin on display. Several seconds passed before his eyes dropped to the caption.
Figuring out how to take down #hotchef in an upcoming competition. Exciting news to come…
She’d tagged Liam, and sure enough, when he clicked over to his notifications, he saw several people had tagged himin the post, asking what Aubrey was talking about and even a few asking if they were dating.
It irritated him that she’d gotten the first go at announcing the competition, albeit in a roundabout way.
He was still scrolling through comments when Sasha slammed on the gas to run through a yellow light on the outskirts of downtown. His finger slipped, and he liked the photo.
“Sasha, will you chill the fuck out? This is why I never let you drive.”
“Whatever, we’re running late, and you’d be on my ass otherwise.”
Knowing his sister wasn’t exactly wrong, he returned to his phone. That bright-red heart was still there. He thought about unliking it. Enough time had passed that even if he did, there was a good chance Aubrey had already received the notification, so what was the point?
It wasn’t like she’d know he’d been creeping on her page. She’d tagged him, for Christ’s sake. But he felt he’d just played into whatever plan Aubrey had crafted.
four
Tom’s spur-of-the-momentidea had gone over like gangbusters. Over two hundred likes within an hour of posting. Two hours later, there were closer to four hundred. It’d been her idea to put on that pink dress. She’d sent Ella to her home to get it, along with her makeup bag. She had to admit that the dress flattered her, and Samantha and Ella had applied her makeup to perfection. She’d brushed out her hair so it hung dark, wavy, and loose over one shoulder and added a bubblegum-pink lip to match the dress.
She usually didn’t make much of an effort with her appearance. Hair in a bun or braids, minimum makeup, and chef’s pinks were her usual uniform. It was nice to dress up—even if it was just for social media.
On her way inside, she scrolled through the comments. Several people tagged Liam, asking for answers. She nearly dropped her phone when she saw the man himself listed among the people who’d liked the post.
After filling her father in on the competition, she checked in on Daphne to ensure she was asleep. She crossed the halltoward her room and shut the door behind her. She perched on the edge of the bed, phone in hand. Liam had left a comment.
Are we starting a social media war? You fired the first shot, but this is a war you’re gonna lose, Aubs!
She set down her phone and exhaled. It felt like she was in school again, the agonizing wait for her crush’s reaction as he read a note she’d written. This was bordering on ridiculous.
While she pondered a reply to Liam’s comment, a text came in from her ex-husband, Chris. It was like he could smell her happiness in the wind and needed to take a big ol’ dump on it.
