Page 5 of Bear In A Boutique
“Here’s a trick. Fold the pancake in thirds and eat it in two bites. Wash it down with water and move on to the next one.”
“Got it.”
“You only have to eat one to make it look good.”
“I’ll eat more than one.”
“Fine. Two.”
Folding her hands on the table, she grinned in challenge. “I’ll eat half. Maybe more.”
Ryker scoffed with a dubious tilt of his head. “I don’t think so.”
“Oh, I definitely think so.”
Fox crouched between their chairs and put a hand on each of their shoulders. “This sounds like the beginnings of a bet.”
Ryker brushed his brother’s hand off his shoulder. “Get lost.”
“If Olive eats ten pancakes, you have to take her on that proper date.”
“What does she have to do when she loses?”
Fox chuckled. “She’s not going to lose.”
Suddenly realizing she was at the heart of this bet, Olive put up a finger. “Excuse me, who says I want to be a part of this?”
Ryker’s sour expression displayed his thoughts perfectly. Going out with her was an unsavory proposition, and she wasn’t about to expend energy on someone who didn’t want to be with her.
“I was joking about the date thing. You can buy me a coffee at Sticky Sweet and we’ll call it good.”
He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head. “We’ll keep the date.”
Hot and cold much? He was certainly sure of himself.
“No thanks.”
His eyes sparkled. “Why not? Are you scared?”
She gave him a sarcastic once-over. “I’m not scared. I have standards.”
Their eyes clashed. Someone snickered. A flicker of a smile crossed Ryker’s mouth. Olive turned her attention back to the announcer. Now she had to let him win otherwise she was on the hook for what was sure to be a very awkward date—even if the thought of going out with him made her heart race. But…if she let him win, he’d be an even cockier asshole, and seeing him around town would be even harder. Suffering through a quick date might be worth it just to see him lose.
Olive lifted her chin. Yeah, she could tolerate his ‘I don’t want to be here’ attitude over dinner if it meant seeing his face when he lost.
Ryker Mitchell was about to find out just how competitive and stubborn she could be.
The announcer signaled to the contestants to prepare to begin. Volunteers came around with plates of pancakes and bottles of maple syrup and set them in front of each contestant. Olive regretted wearing her favorite white boho blouse with its wide, crocheted sleeves. She pushed turquoise and silver bangles up her forearms and rolled the sleeves to her elbows. Her curly hair was unrulier than normal today and refused to stay fully contained in a ponytail. The ends would be full of syrup in no time.
As if reading her mind, Ryker pushed the bottle of syrup to the side and lowered his voice conspiratorially.
“Don’t add syrup. It makes the pancakes sticky, and they can clog your throat. Pour a little water on the pancakes to dampen them. Don’t use too much, or they turn to mush and then you’re screwed.”
God, he smelled good.
“Water on my pancakes. Got it.”
His gaze dropped to her shoulder and lightly brushed a curl behind her neck. His fingers lingered on her shoulder before pulling away. A flood of warmth invaded her body, and it was difficult to turn her attention back to the contest.
