Page 7 of The Interception
“Right. I’ll do my best. Love you, and send my love to the less awesome Rossi.”
Lottie chuckles. “Will do. Love you too.”
I hang up, ready to begin tomorrow with a clean slate.
Chapter Four
Ender
I am screwed. Iwas also selfish in thinking I should pair up with another veteran and secure a win, especially when the amateurs were looking to us for guidance. It occurred to me halfway through the orientation, withtwiceas many people as usual, I could lose. That unabashed cockiness that works for me on the field doesn’t always carry over into real life, this contest being one of those times. Every veteran took on a newbie, while I was left with my tail between my legs and no partner. At least, not one that I could stomach working with. There were several offers from women who, I am absolutely sure, had no interest in my cooking skills and every interest in my career.
Shocker for them, I’m not special. I might be one of the league’s highest scorers, but it’s only because my team is good at setting me up. Another shocker, we might not even have a team after the season.
I only have one option at this point—unless I want the organizers to set me up with someone I can’t stomach—and I have a good feeling even getting on my knees and begging is going to blow up in my face.
Layne Rossi. I only know her name thanks to her polite introduction—that I immediately rebutted—and I had to pay one of the admins a hundred dollars to get the address of where she’s staying. She said she was a trained chef before my ambition cut her off mid-sentence. Rudeness isn’t one of my finer qualities, but it rears its ugly head when I’m in panic mode. If there was ever a time to panic, it’s now.
And I am, because I also realized midway through the orientation that winning the grand prize would be a huge financial burden off of my sister.
What I’m about to do is probably borderline stalking, but I have to find a partner before the admins pair me with someone who will only flirt with me through the competition. Or worse, someone who can burn water. Technically, I don’t know that Layne won’t be flirty, but if I’m going by her introduction, which was nothing but professional and kind, I think she’s my best shot.
I make the final turn onto the street hastily scribbled on a scrap of paper. Layne isn’t staying at a hotel like the other out of town competitors, and by the way she took in everything, I have no doubt she’s not a Charleston resident. There is no denying that I noticed her. She’s breathtaking, and the adorable way she observes the scenes around her with wide-eyed wonder can’t be missed by anyone, including the guys I was standing with in line. It’s the reason I purposely left an aisle seat open and claimed it wassaveduntil she sat down. I wanted to save her the frustration of getting flirted with the entire time.
And then I went and offended her. I think. I can’t be sure since I bolted, but if I had to guess—and I’ve spent an entire drive considering it—I’d say she probably hates my guts. The least I could have done wastalkto her, find out what she does, see if we could be a good match. But no, I had to go off with my own plan and bomb it.
When I arrive at the house, I hesitate but decide to park in the short drive. There’s no backing out now. Well, Icould,but I can’t. With as much humility as I can muster, I get out of my truck and trudge down the walkway to the wraparound front porch. I can do this. I can grovel with the best of them. Mustering the last of my bravery, I knock on the front door.
The echo of footsteps bears down on me, forcing a lump into my throat. This woman is going to throw me out on my rear end and probably make me the laughingstock of Charleston. The door swings open and I come face to face with the raven-haired beauty once again. Her green eyes narrow and her lip curls, but I don’t think she realizes she has the most disgusted expression a person can muster plastered on her face.
It really is a beautiful face.
“Can I help you?” she barks, reminding me that standing here staring at her doesn’t do me any good.
“Hi. Yes, actually, I wanted to apologize for being such a jerk earlier and take you up on your offer to be my partner, since all of the veterans are pairing up with novices.” I blink and remember to smile. What is wrong with me? I sound like a robot. My heart is pounding.
“You came to apologize and take me up on my offer because…everyone else was…paired? What you mean to say is, all the pros were paired and you’re left with the bottom of the barrel, right?”
I release a breath. “Yes, exactly.” Her face sours further and I consider what she said. My palms sweat and I rub them together to focus. Bottom of the barrel…oh no. “Wait…no. That’s not what I meant at all.” I raise my hands to defend myself, but it’s too late. A heavy, solid wood door flies toward my face, but I’m too dumbfounded by my own stupidity to stop it. The knocker smashes into my nose and I step back, wincing as tears flood my eyes.
“Yeah, that’s how I thought this would go,” I mumble through my hand. Realizing I’m bleeding is the least of my problems. I can manage a bloody nose, do it a lot actually, but I can’t win a cooking contest with a subpar cook. Something tells me if Layne cooks as well as she issues a scathing glare, we’ll be all right. Well, she and whoever she chooses for a partner might be, but the blood streaming between my fingers tells me I am as I had previously assumed. Screwed.
The door flies open again, and a bag of ice is shoved in my face. “Here,” Layne says, her tone demanding. “I’m sorry I hit you in the face, but can you leave now? I slammed a door on you, and where I come from, that means you walk away insulted. You’re really screwing up the dynamic here.”
“The dynamic?”
She scoffs and puts both hands on her hips. “Yeah, you know. Slammed door, defeated hopes and dreams, you walk away sulking after learning your lesson about the kind of person you think I am? Ring any bells?”
Pressing the ice to my bloody nose is the least painful part of this moment. “I did not defeat your hopes and dreams. There are tons of amazing cooks in this competition, and you’re bound to get paired with one of them.”
Her eyes go wide. “Now is not the best time to anger the beast, Langley. Now is the time for you to realize that yes, you were an epic jerk, but the proper way to apologize is to not insult me further.” She crosses her arms and bites her lip before adding, “And maybe the proper way for me to respond is to accept that you might be an egotistical jerk, but you’re an egotistical jerk who can help me win, so I shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”
I yank the ice off my face. “I amnotan egotistical jerk. You don’t know me at all.”
“And you don’t know me, but you made inaccurate assumptions about my capabilities.”
I groan because we can definitely do this all day, but time is running short. “Listen, I was absolutely in the wrong at the stadium. I should have heard you out, and yeah, I’m desperate to find a partner who knows what he or she is doing. But I want to work withyoubecause despite the way I treated you there, you were gracious toward me.”
She raises her eyebrows.
