Page 64 of Falling for You
CHAPTER 17
CeCe nearly nickedher finger on her paring knife as she sliced apples for their dessert. Max and Evan spoke animatedly about plating for the judges. “I think we need to keep it simple,” Max insisted as he chopped cilantro for the fritters.
Evan grimaced and held up an intricate radish he’d carved. “And I think we need to catch their attention before they take a bite. We will win on flavors, but we can’t look forgettable.”
Max studied the vegetables and finally nodded. “You’re right. Let’s give it a try. We’re here to impress them, not just kick ass.”
Evan chuckled, the first relatively happy sound he’d made since coming back. CeCe tried to focus and not worry about all the words left unsaid between them, but it was impossible.
Ginny stuck her head in the truck. The opening in the door let in a heavenly whoosh of fresh air, and CeCe nearly fainted at the sensation. “Anything I can help with?” Ginny asked, her phone poised to take another picture. When the guys weren’t looking, she snagged a shot of them leaning over their plates. The picture was drool-worthy for a lot of reasons. Evan’s blond curls framed his face as he placed a radish in the center of the plate. Max’s scruff made his jawline look as square as Henry Cavill’s. Judging from Ginny’s flushed cheeks, she wasn’t complaining about her photography skills—or the man she got to go home with.
CeCe tried not to gawk as Evan angled himself so Ginny could take another shot. The muscles on his forearms flexed as he adjusted the plate. “The judges will love it,” Ginny assured everyone as she clicked away. “I’ll get out of your hair and post these.” Her smile was so genuine and giddy, she looked like a kid on Christmas.
Mentioning the judges brought their current situation back into sharp focus. Eric was gone, and someone else was in his place. She didn’t have to impress him, and that felt freeing. What felt more freeing was that she didn’twantto impress him. Although it hadn’t happened the way she’d liked, CeCe had gotten control over Eric and that situation. And control felt damn good.
Control. It was what she wanted right now with Evan. While she was thrilled to have him by her side competing, they were a long way from pillow forts and stolen kisses. She needed to make good—and fast.
“That’s the last of the fritters. I have the honey garlic aioli ready over there,” Evan said as he gestured to a bowl of the sauce.
Max nodded, adding a sprinkle of parsley. “I’m ready too. CeCe, how are those stuffed donuts going?”
CeCe pulled out her tray of decorated donuts from the warming oven and gave a thumbs-up. “Ready. I was waiting to plate until the very last second.”
Max took the tray from her and helped with arranging the sweet portion of their entry. They’d gone with a fried theme, similar to what people would find at a Midwestern state fair. But instead of funnel cakes and corn dogs, they went with elevated, fancier carnival fare.
“Evan, can you take our entries to the judges’ tent? CeCe and I can clean up and meet you over there for the results.”
Without looking at CeCe, Evan brushed past and took the trays from Max. “You got it, boss. See you over there.” He left the truck without a backward glance, and CeCe felt as hollow as one of her unstuffed donuts.
When the door finally slammed shut, CeCe let out a sigh and propped herself on the counter. She felt raw with exhaustion from cooking and a myriad of unsaid words to Evan. Sensing she was on edge, Max pulled a small bottle from one of the cabinets. “No matter what happens with the judges, we made some damn fine food today.” He splashed a shot of the amber liquid into two plastic cups and handed one to CeCe. “I have a bottle of champagne saved for when we win, but we could both use something right now.”
CeCe took the proffered cup and sipped it greedily, knowing the whiskey would go straight to her head. “Thanks. I appreciate you thinking we’re going to win.”
“We will win,” Max said with certainty. “There’s no way anyone has more creative, yet comforting dishes on their plates.”
CeCe knew he was right, but today didn’t feel the same. “Don’t you think we’ve sort of ... lost our mojo?” She twirled one hand in the air and sipped her whiskey from the other.
