Page 42 of Knot Your Sugar

The festival grounds are noticeably quieter this morning. Only about twenty or so dedicated contestants have gathered in the competition area. Judge Chen waves us over with her signature enthusiasm. Beside her, Judge Parker stands with his arms crossed, his expression doing a remarkably good impression of someone who has just smelled something unpleasant.

"Good morning, good morning, brave foragers!" Chen chirps, her smile as bright as the morning sun. "Welcome to today's optional, but highly rewarding, Foraging Challenge! Today is all about connecting with the beautiful, bountiful nature that surrounds Lakeview."

Parker clears his throat pointedly. "And about proving you can do more than just follow a recipe. Resourcefulness, creativity under pressure… these are also hallmarks of a true culinary artist."

Chen smoothly continues, "Precisely! You'll have until two o'clock this afternoon to explore the designated areas of the woods around the festival and the surrounding meadows. Your mission," she winks, "is to gather whatever wild, edible ingredients inspire you. Then, you will use those foraged treasures to create one spectacular pastry for a private tasting session with a judge assigned at random."

James materializes beside me, looking unfairly handsome in worn denim and a navy henley that does very good things for his shoulders.

"Morning, sugar," he murmurs, trailing a cloud of citronella so thick it's practically an olfactory assault. "How was your night after you left the pub?" He grins. "Did Cole show you his hose collection?"

Heat instantly floods my cheeks. "I have no idea what you’re talking about," I hiss back, trying to project an air of innocent confusion while simultaneously wanting the ground to swallow me whole. "And seriously, did youbathein bug spray?"

"Hey, no one’s sucking me dry out here." He pauses, his gaze dipping before returning to mine with a smirk. "Well..."

Before I can fire back, he leans in slightly, voice dropping. "And relax about last night. Your secret’s safe with yourboyfriend." He puts a little too much emphasis on the word. "Just… be discreet if it happens again, yeah? Wouldn’t want people thinking I’m the festival cuck. Bad for the brand." Like I need a reminder to be discreet in Lakeview…

"Remember," Judge Chen's voice suddenly rings out as she gives a meaningful glance in our direction, "gather plenty of ingredients. Foraging is done in pairs, but baking will be a solo effort. You'll each be assigned an individual station today. And be back before two PM. Go!"

We set off together, following the marked trail into the woods. The morning air is crisp and clean, carrying the earthy scent of pine needles. Sunlight filters through the canopy above, creating dappled patterns of light and shadow on the forest floor.

"Now that we're alone," James says as we walk, his tone deceptively casual, "on a scale of one to 'thoroughly satisfied,' how was your night?"

My face is on fire again. "I don't kiss and tell."Shit, why did I say that?

His grin is absolutely wicked. "Look at you! Should I be jealous?"

"Focus on foraging," I deflect, grateful to spot a bramble of blackberries ahead. "Look, berries!"

"Subtle subject change, but I'll allow it." He follows me to the patch where plump blackberries glisten with morning dew. "Mmm, these are perfect. Plump, juicy… almost as tempting as you are when you’re trying to look stern."

I roll my eyes, though a reluctant smile tugs at my lips. "You're impossible."

We pick in companionable silence for a while after that, our collection bags gradually filling with delicious fruit. James, it turns out, is a focused forager, his gaze instinctively locking onto the best finds. Though he does keep popping the choicest berries into his mouth.

"You do realize those are meant forbaking, right?" I scold, trying very hard not to smile. "And what on earth is with the miniature water sprayer? Are you misting them for optimal juiciness?"

"Quality contwol," he replies, his mouth full of blackberry. "Firsht, wash. Shecond, tashte." He grins, a tiny drop of deep purple juice escapes the corner of his mouth, clinging precariously to his lip as he swallows.

Without thinking, I reach up with my thumb and gently wipe the stray juice away. The moment stretches. Our eyes lock. His skin is warm beneath my touch, a faint stubble rasping against my thumb, and suddenly his lips look dangerously sweet.

"S-sorry," I mumble, snatching my hand back as if I’ve been burned. My cheeks are definitely competing with the blackberry juice for redness now.

"Don't be." His voice has gone lower, rougher. "We are officially seeing each other, remember? Might as well make it convincing… even when no one’s looking."

My heart gives a traitorous flutter. A nervous laugh escapes me and I whirl away before he can see how rattled I am. “I think… I think I see some wild strawberries over here!”

The next hour or so passes in pleasant blur of discovery and, dare I say it, actual laughter. James, it turns out, has a hidden talent. He’s surprisingly knowledgeable about wild edibles, able to identify not just the obvious berries, but also patches of fragrant wild mint, tangy lemon balm, and even a scattering of delicate elderflowers hiding near a trickling stream. He points out edible mushrooms I would have walked right past, andwarns me away from some deceptively pretty but apparently very unfriendly berries.

"My grandmother," he explains, when I finally voice my surprise at his encyclopedic knowledge of woodland snacks, "lived way out in the countryside. I used to spend summers with her when I was a kid. She taught me which edibles wouldn’t kill me. And which ones made a killer pie." He says it casually, but there’s a fondness in his voice. A glimpse of a softer, less polished James.

"The great James Reynolds, secret country boy with a foraging grandma?" I tease gently. "The festival columnists would have an absolute field day with that."

"Please," he scoffs, though his eyes are smiling. "I actively cultivate my image as an urbanite. What happens in the woods stays in the woods."

A few minutes later, we stumble upon a massive patch of wild blueberries basking in a sunny clearing. Out of the blue, James flops down in the soft grass beside them like it's a five-star mattress.

"Strategic resting position achieved," he declares, already plucking berries with one hand. "Maximum berry access, minimum physical exertion."

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