Page 41 of Building Romance
I quickly go to the oven and turn the light on, peering inside. I can’t tell.
“What’s wrong?” Fletcher whispers in my ear, his strong body pressed to my back.
“I forgot to set the timer,” I admit. I feel tears threaten.
His hand wraps around my upper arm and his thumb gives it the smallest rub. “It’s alright. I set a timer on my watch as a backup. We have three minutes to go.”
I immediately feel my shoulders relax.
I turn to face him. “I owe you…something,” I manage.
He smirks and I roll my eyes. “Seriously? Do men not think of anything else?” I hiss, keeping my voice low in the off chance a boom with a microphone is nearby. Thank God we don’t have microphones attached to us at the moment.
He shrugs. “Sometimes.”
I roll my eyes again but then meet his gaze. “Thank you,” I whisper.
He smiles. “I’m trying to be a good assistant. Now, let’s get the frosting station ready.”
I nod. His timer goes off and I pull the cookies out to cool. They look…perfect. Thank God!
He knocks my hip with his. “We did good, right?”
I grin at him. “We did. These look great. Let’s just hope they taste as good as they look.”
I check the timer and set a fan in front of the cookies. We don’t have any time to spare. “Give them one more minute to cool and then we have to get frosting,” I state as I double-check our frosting.
I nod when I touch them. “They’re ready. Let’s get going,” I command as we start icing the cookies. I taught him my technique yesterday and he has picked it up quickly. Before I know it, all three dozen cookies are done. I place them in the fridge for two minutes to set the frosting a bit and then we arrange them on the platter.
Our hands keep bumping into each other’s, and as I set the last one down next to his, I feel his finger run along mine with intent. I look up at him.
“Win or lose, we did good,” he states.
“You think?” I ask as I glance at our plate of cookies. I placed some decorative touches on the plate and it does look nice.
“I know,” he insists and then gives a small chuckle.
“What?” I ask.
“Who would have guessed we’d make such a great team?” he confesses and I giggle.
“Not me,” I admit as we both laugh.
The judges come around and sample each plate after we give a brief presentation of our cookies. I can’t read them at all and I feel my palms sweating at my sides.
Just as they go to announce the winner of the round and which team will go home this week, Fletcher’s hand wraps around mine and squeezes. His palm is sweaty too and I squeeze it back. This is crazy. How am I going to survive being this close to him for two more weeks without my growing crush turning into something more? I need to keep my head on straight. Falling for my rival and mortal enemy is not an option.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Fletcher
I text Al again. It’s the end of week two of the competition. Our pie got us to the finale round, but barely. If the other team hadn’t overbaked their pie by a few minutes, we’d be done for.
Me: Any updates on the saltshaker?
Al: Not yet. I have Troy and Drew scouring the apartment. Roxy and Carly have had Phyllis checking in the café. Kasen even recommended looking around to make sure Licorice didn’t hide it somewhere.
I frown. Who the hell is Licorice? I’ve heard some of the other names from Al and Camryn, but not that one.
