Page 50 of Bake You Mine
He traced his fingers along her forearm. “I do. Which is why I’m ever-so-gently going to ask if you’ve been taking care of yourself? Are you going to therapy? Taking your meds?”
She rounded on her best friend, ready to pounce on him for having the audacity to ask her such a question. Then she took in his concerned glance and relaxed. “Therapy no, meds yes. I’ll see if I can get an appointment with my therapist, but it might take a while.”
He looped an arm around her shoulders. “Good. If this stupid contest gets to be too much, fuck it. Let Liam have the prize. It’s not like we won’t figure out a way forward without it.”
How could she tell Tom she’d already grown attached to the idea of winning, but even more, to the idea of her and Liam?
She couldn’t. It all felt too new to discuss what could happen. What if it didn’t work out?
She put on her best smile. One so bright that Tom couldn’t see through it.
“You’re right. Now let me get my ass back to work. Idle hands and an idle mind are not a good thing.”
Promptly at two thirty, Gary walked into the vacant space with Liam trailing on his heels. Her gaze went straight to Liam; he was on his phone, but he looked up and gave her a wink before he went back to typing. She swallowed hard. Then she reminded herself she couldn’t lose her edge just because they’d kissed. She was a general with a war to win.
Then she had another slow-mo moment when his hairdropped over one eye. He raised his hand to push his hair aside, and their gazes locked. All the words in her mind morphed into Portuguese, English, and Danish. It was a damn good thing he didn’t use those looks for villainy.
“Alrighty then, why don’t we all have a seat?” Gary said.
She walked alongside Liam to one of the tables still set up from the previous night. The smug bastard managed to wink at her again in the half-second Gary’s back was turned. Her cheeks scorched with heat, and she spun away.
Gary’s chair screeched across the battered floor as he pulled it out.
“As much as I love the drama, I have another meeting to get to, so I’ll get right out with it.” He tented his fingers. “It was as close as a lock of angel’s hair. We reviewed the comment cards several times, but the answer was the same.” He cleared his throat. “The winner of the first challenge, with the favorite dish of the evening being the lemon soufflé, is Aubrey.”
She leaned forward to catch herself on the side of the table.
Holy shit, maybe she could win this thing? “Oh man, I needed that.”
Liam’s hand on her back sent a jolt of electricity through her. She whirled around to face him.
“Good job, Aubs.” He thrust out his hand, and she shook it, not missing for a second the way he traced his thumb across the back of her hand.
Just that quick, her thoughts scrambled again, and it took a moment to remember what they’d been celebrating. “Thanks, Liam.”
“Ah, good sportsmanship. What a lovely sight. So, after the first challenge, Aubrey has three points to Liam’s two. So it’s still anyone’s game.” Gary tossed two key rings onto the table.
“That’s a hint at what the second challenge will be. Curious?”
Liam reached for a key ring. Aubrey did the same, finding it unremarkable—a keychain advertising Gary’s real estate development firm and one large key.
“This is a truck key,” Liam said.
“Ding ding, we have a winner.” Gary gestured for them to follow along out the door. When they stepped outside, two food trucks rounded the corner, horns blaring.
Aubrey tried to keep a smile affixed to her lips. Liam’s business was made for a food truck. Hers…not so much. She’d be limited to what she could make beforehand since most didn’t have industrial ovens on board.
The trucks came to a stop in front of them. Both sported fresh white paint jobs.
Gary tapped the hood of the closest truck. “Madison Park. You know the food trucks park there in the afternoons?”
The park sat across the street from Port Fortune’s municipal building, so they had a lot of office clientele.
“Oh, you just want us to go to one place with the truck,” Liam said. “I figured you’d been watching too many food competition shows, and we’d have to race across the greater metropolitan area.”
“Very funny,” Gary said. “You’re not that far off from guessing my inspiration for this challenge. This challenge is to consider your celebrity status in the region. Part of the point of this contest is to increase tourist spending in the city. Who has the bigger draw? Well, we’re about to find out.”
“So, a popularity contest? Just super,” Aubrey muttered.
