Page 27 of Bake You Mine
“Nope, and I’ve posted a couple of times today. I think we got the message across.”
“Good.” He stepped closer to Aubrey, and she forced herself not to back away, even if the brush of his arm against hers had her pulse stuttering. “You know, it’s occurred to me I don’t think you’ve ever eaten my food. We should remedy that before the first challenge.”
“That means you’ll have to eat mine.” She winced at the double entendre.
That earned her a subtle eye roll, although Aubrey was grateful since it meant he missed her unintentional innuendo. “I don’t do sweets.”
She rose to her entire height, five feet two inches. “Then I don’t do…whatever you do here.” She had to admit, the alluring aroma of steak and crispy potatoes had her stomach growling.
Sasha chortled as her eyes darted back and forth between them. “This is better than a tennis match.”
Liam held up his hands. “Okay, I relent. You eat mine; I’ll eat yours.” One dark eyebrow arched, making it clear that the innuendo was one hundred percent intentional this time. Or that could be her overactive imagination getting the better of her again.
Either way, she wished a portal to another dimension would open on the sidewalk.
“Deal?” He stuck out his pinky.
What the hell was she agreeing to? Her brain scrambled for an excuse to leave.
“I wouldn’t want to skip the line,” she said, pointing at the crowd, hoping for an escape.
“Oh, no, go ahead, sweetie. I think we all want to see how this plays out,” a woman called from halfway back the line. A burst of raucous laughter from the crowd followed.
Aubrey’s cheeks burned. The last thing she wanted was to touch him, especially with an audience. It was either this or running like a coward, which would make her appear weak in the competition. There was no going back now. She locked her pinky with his.
“Deal.”
“We’ve got a VIP at table ten.” Liam pushed into the crowded kitchen.
Damon glanced up from plating. “Who would that be?”
“Aubrey’s trying my food for the first time. I want her to see the best of what we offer.”
Damon rang the bell for pickup. “Is that the only reason?”
He didn’t much care for the implication in his best friend’s tone. Damon and his wife Lameka had been asking a lot of questions about Aubrey lately. Of course, they already knew her; she’d never kept them at the distance she’d reserved for Liam.
“Do me a favor, and choke on a dick.”
Damon chuckled. “Are you starting to see I’m right? She’s beautiful, smart, and funny. I don’t know, brother. I think she’sone of the few people who rise to meet you in terms of determination and talent.”
Liam let his friend’s words roll off him, grateful that Aubrey sat far enough away from the partially open kitchen that she couldn’t overhear. Because even though his dick and brain had formed a joint committee to convince him that he needed to be with Aubrey, Liam had a competition to consider.
He glanced around the packed dining room, a reminder to keep both heads firmly in the game. Heneededto win.
Plus, he’d had enough problems with women, especially with Dani. He’d messaged her again, asking her to delete the reviews she’d left.
She’d replied with a .gif of Mariah Carey shaking her head with text that read, “I don’t know her.” Dani wanted him to beg, and he wouldn’t.
He swiped the plate for Aubrey’s first course: a chopped salad paired with Gary’s choice of wine for the first challenge, a Beaujolais of recent vintage.
She was hunched over the table as he approached, nibbling on his famous bar nuts (ha) and sketching something in her book. She appeared unguarded. He saw her as something other than his opponent—well, his opponent in possession of a superior posterior.
She looked up and pushed the bowl away. “Isn’t the restaurant a little full for you to be serving?”
He pulled the empty wineglass in front of her. “Not for my VIPs.”
After a brief description of the wine, he poured her a sample.
