Page 23 of The Autumn We Fell in Love

Colby

Icurl my fingers into fists to stop me from snatching my credit card back from the clerk at the hotel’s check-in. I booked this room months ago when I was still following self-dubbed internet business guru Greg Winger’s advice to embody my success and act as if I’m already living the life I aspire to.

I embodied my success straight to thousands of dollars of credit card debt that I can’t possibly pay off anytime soon.

Unless, of course, I come out on top in this year’s CCI cooking competition.

I’m a pretty fucking good chef if I do say so myself. Raised by my Polish grandmother to express myself through spices and flavor, I make my living by YouTube-ing my way to internet fame. At least, I’m trying to.

Yeah, I’m the host of the popular cooking channel, Planet Yum. I’ve not only got the talent to teach my millions of viewers all the ins and outs of the kitchen, but I’ve got the personality too. I’m an entertainer, funny as hell with charm coming out of my ass. It doesn’t hurt that a young guy in my twenties with long brown curls, a lithe body, and blue eyes that I’ve been told make some of my women viewers swoon.

Which means that I’m going to win CCI’s cheese sauce category this year, and put on a damn good show for the viewers at home in the process.

And I need to. Otherwise, I’ll stay in this financial hole that I see no other way of escaping.

I’m a good cook, but I’m self-taught. None of the food prep jobs that I’m qualified for will earn me enough to get ahead of the interest.

I’ve got to win.

And with my gourmet Mornay sauce, I’m going to.

But then, I thought success was a sure thing if I followed Greg Winger’s online trainings, and look where that got me.

Let’s just say that I’m not quite as cocky and confident as I once was. My grandmother says that’s not a bad thing. But she doesn’t know about the credit card debt.

It’s going to stay that way because I’m going to kick ass at this competition and pay my debt off and never have to think about it again.

And if everything goes according to plan, my performance in the televised competition will elevate my YouTube success even further, allowing me to live off my channel’s earnings.

I’ll do whatever it takes to live life on my terms.

The check-in clerk hands me back my card, snapping me out of my reverie. I resist the urge to whisper words of comfort to the poor piece of plastic.

I reassure myself instead. Soon things will start looking up. They have to. Otherwise, I’m in trouble.

“Here is your key card, Mr. Jackson,” the clerk says warmly, sliding it across the counter. “You’re up on the fourteenth floor. Just a short walk down the hall will take you to our patio wine bar where you can relax and enjoy the San Francisco skyline.”

“Thanks,” I mutter, thinking how good a glass of pinot noir sounds right about now — and how expensive.

“Have an excellent stay, and please don’t hesitate to allow us to help your stay be as comfortable and enjoyable as possible,” he finishes, sending me off with a polite smile.

Shouldering my duffel, I grab the keycard and turn to find the elevator.

I promptly collide with something that smells like lilacs and honey.

Or really, someone.

A fucking beautiful someone, I realize, quickly gathering my senses.

A blonde someone wearing a cute purple tunic dress with curves that make my cock stand up and take note, amber eyes, and pert pink lips that are practically begging to be kissed.

The young woman about my age that I’ve barreled into is rubbing her nose as her eyes travel my frame. When she gets to my man bun, they linger.

I wait. Usually, women either love or hate my long hair, with no moderate reactions in between. My cock and I are curious to see what this girl thinks.

Her cheeks grow pink and the corners of her lips curve upward. She likes it.

Victory.

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