by Kelly Cain
Tears sting the back of my eyes, and I shake them off, unbelievably upset with myself. Get it together, Rowan. He is less than worth it.
At that moment, I recommit myself wholly to winning this contest. When I get back, Mama and I are going to have a heart-to-heart. I’m doing this for her, but I’m doing this for me too.
With my resolve in check, I dash into the studio and up the elevator. When I enter, I spot Knox at a spare table, but I come up short at who’s sitting at the table next to his.
*
There are four new families at the tables we occupied just yesterday—the Warrens versus the Murray family and the Ortiz family versus the Wards. They’re fresh-faced and buzzing around getting to know each other, the crew, and the presenters. They’re a much more social bunch than we were, that’s for sure. They don’t even seem nervous. Then again, maybe it was the Townsend/Everheart dynamic that put a wet blanket on the collective mood in the previous heat of competition.
I look at the two audience tables set up near each other. Two people look back at me expectantly, but there’s no contest where I’m heading. Anywhere but Knox’s.
He scowls when I sit at the other table, but I ignore him and speak to the only other occupant. “Hi. I thought you were leaving?”
Mike smiles at me. “I missed my flight, but I rescheduled for this evening.”
“Where are your mom and sister?”
“They made it on. I didn’t leave the hotel on time.”
Okay. That’s super weird they weren’t traveling together, but I guess plausible. I don’t go everywhere with my family; I’m here after all and they’re at home. Speaking of, I need to call them before taping starts. “That’s cool that you got to come back and watch. I have to go call my mother before they start, but I’ll be right back.”
When I get up to leave, I can’t help but glance Knox’s way. He has fixed his face and pulled out a bag of corn chips. It’s seven o’clock in the morning for goodness’ sake.
When I get to the bathroom, I stop outside and call Mama. It’s early enough there that they shouldn’t be too busy yet. She answers on the second ring.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Mama. Just checking in with you to see how everything’s going?”
“Everything here is fine, Rowan. I haven’t made it to the restaurant yet, but I talked to Wyatt. Sue and Hannah have everything under control.”
That’s odd. Mama doesn’t even leave me alone without seeing for herself. Unless she’s sick. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Fine,” she insists. “How’s everything going out there? Tell me about the new families.”
Okay, swift subject change for the win. “There’s a white family from Pittsburgh, and another one from Chicago. There’s a Puerto Rican family from Birmingham, and a Chinese family from Portland. Oh, and Mike Smith is here. He said he missed his flight. And I already texted you about Knox last night.”
“I love that they try for plenty of diversity. Good on them. For the first time in as long as I can remember, you didn’t text me Knox Asshat Everheart. You two getting along better?”
Decidedly not. That was a momentary lapse in judgment. “No.”
She chuckles into the phone, then her voice hitches.
“Mama.”
“I’m fine, Rowan. You better get back before they start.”
I know when I’ve been dismissed. I’ll just call Wyatt later during lunch and find out what’s really going on. “Okay, love you. I’ll call you tonight if it doesn’t get too late.”
“Love you too, baby.”
Back in the studio, they’re at the stage where the director is giving them the lay of the land. Looks like I got back just in time.
Mike leans over. “Everything okay at home?”
“Yeah. We’re lucky in that I have a good friend who’s a chef and she’s kept everything going smoothly while I’m gone. Of course, my mother and brother are back now so I’m not too worried.”
“That’s good you have someone you can depend on.” His brown eyes twinkle, adding in a kind smile.
Before I can respond, the lights go on around the studio, indicating the set is hot. I guess I missed the warning lights.
The judges are introduced, and again when Dean Ellerson comes out, Knox’s face twists into his signature frown. She used to come down on him pretty hard, but she did on me too. I certainly hold no grudges. We deserved everything we got and more. If anything, she should be grimacing when she sees us.
The first competition gets under way and I grin at Mike. The show is following the same format, and this is when Mike and his family put their yummy chicken potpie against the Everhearts’ Italian offering.
I look over at Knox, but he doesn’t have a reminiscent grin waiting for me. He’s still frowning although not with the same one he reserved for Dean Ellerson.
I guess everything’s back to normal. Which is fine. I understand our normal. It’s last night that had me all flustered.
During the first break when the families switch off, I stand and stretch. Knox takes that opportunity to do the same and somehow ends up nearer to us.
Mike gets up to talk to him since he’s a foot away. “It looks a lot different from this vantage point, doesn’t it?”
Knox shrugs. “I suppose so. It’s good to see the competition though, don’t you think?” He peers at Mike, waiting on his answer, then clunks his forehead. “Oh, where’s my head? That’s right, your family’s out. I totally forgot.”
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, Knox Asshat Everheart is back and in full effect.
Mike blinks. His friendly smile falters.
“Knox,” I warn, and start to stand.
Knox rotates my way, turning those ice-blue eyes on me. “Yes, Amber?”
That puts me back in my seat. Mike can fight his own battles. I barely know the guy.
And he tries, bless him. “It was a great competition. Our scores weren’t too bad against yours, but we came up short.”
Knox nods. “That’s true. Nothing to be ashamed of. Of course, you’re a small restaurant tucked away in the Colorado mountains. The judges would expect more of us given our pedigree. You got some very decent scores though.” Knox’s eyes sparkle cornflower blue, and I can’t believe I ever thought they were beautiful. Thick lashes be damned.
Then there’s the thought that maybe he really wasn’t talking about the Smith’s scores. More than likely he was talking about me, my family, and our restaurant. He thinks we scored as high as we did because the judges are grading on a curve. I’m the absolute biggest fool there ever was. I actually felt sorry for him, let down my guard, and… I can’t even finish that thought.
The warning lights pop on which is good, because I’m pretty sure Mike has never had someone be so rude to him before. All he can do is stare.
The thing is, I’ve never seen Knox be that rude to anyone other than me before, even if he really meant it for my ears. This is new territory and I’m not sure what to think. What is it about Mike that gets under his skin? Hmmm, he asked me about Mike last night. I don’t think I ever found out why. Interesting.
The filming light turns on and we’re all in our seats and quiet again.
Mike looks at me with furrowed brows.
All I can do is raise my shoulders. But I do know one thing—suddenly I’m slightly endeared to Mike Smith.
*
During the second set of competition, the Ortiz and Ward families square off. Like us, the Ortiz chefs stick to what they know best. They make arroz con gandules and the sofrito they created for it had me leaning so far out of my chair, I almost fell. Now all I have a taste for is Puerto Rican food. And I know just the place.
I spin around and face Mike, and give him my sweetest smile. “Do you have lunch plans?”
He grins and picks up his messenger bag from the seat next to him. “Are you asking me out, Rowan?”
“I, uh.” I glance at Knox, who’s sitting on the edge of his seat, waiting fo
r my response as much as Mike. Why not go out with him? I’m not seeing anyone and what happened with Knox last night was a total fluke. It wasn’t anything, matter-of-fact. Not even a blip. Mike’s a perfectly nice guy. I think. Heck, maybe he’ll make me one of his potpies sometime. “Sure. I guess I am.”
“Then in that case, I didn’t have lunch plans, but I’m happy I do now.” He puts the strap of his bag over his shoulder and offers me his hand. “Where should we go?”
I clasp his hand, grab my purse, and don’t give Knox another look, or thought, as we walk toward the elevators. “I know a place.”
The restaurant is only about five blocks away, but it’s up and down hills the whole way, and when we arrive and are seated, I order a blackberry mojito to quench my thirst. According to the menu, it’s made with Venezuelan rum which I’m anxious to sample. Mike orders a white wine. I’m not going to say this is strike two, but it’s like strike one and a half at least.
He studies his menu with furrowed brows.
“I probably should have asked you this earlier, but do you like Puerto Rican food?”
He looks up over the menu with glazed eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever had it.”
“But you’re a chef.”
He sets the menu down and focuses on my questioning. “That’s true. Did you learn to cook Puerto Rican food in school?”
“No, but we were exposed to it. As well as most other distinctive cuisine. You weren’t?”
He shakes his head. “No, not really. What do you recommend?”
Okay, let’s go ahead and fill in the last half of strike two. I peruse the menu and look for the safest choices. What kind of food do people eat in Denver? I chuckle to myself.
“Something funny?”
I whip my head up and Mike is grinning at me, a whimsical smile with not the slightest bit of malice. This is what two days around Knox does to me—I think everyone’s bringing the snark. “Yeah, I was wondering what people eat in Denver, and then I thought about Rocky Mountain oysters.”
He nods. “Quite the delicacy. We eat a lot of other things too. Seriously, I’m open to trying anything.”
Okay, we can erase that last half a strike. “I’ll have the pernil asado and you can taste some of mine if you want. For you, I’ll suggest the pollo encebollado and we can share some yuca and tostones. They’re really good here. Sound okay?”
“Sure, I trust you. So, you’ve been here before?”
“I have. A couple of times.”
The waiter comes and I order for us. When he leaves, I pick up the thread of our conversation. “I went to school in Napa. That’s how I’ve been here before.”
The look of astonishment on his face is immediate. “Oh wow.”
“You seem surprised.”
“I guess, I don’t know. I just assumed you went to school in Texas. Plus, you cook…”
I raise my brows then, urging him to finish.
He rushes on. “You’re an excellent cook. I mean the type of food you cook doesn’t seem like what they’d teach.”
Well, obviously. “My mother has had her restaurant since I was in middle school. For the competition, she wanted to stick to what she knows best. I plan to speak with her for the next level. We’ll need to switch it up some. Not play it so safe.” I bite the inside of my cheek. Hopefully he doesn’t take that as a slight.
“That makes sense. The judges definitely don’t want safe. We found that out the hard way. We thought we’d have time to work up to something else, but the Everhearts really pushed the envelope right out the gate. They definitely cook like they went to culinary school in Napa.”
I try to ignore the sting of his words because I don’t think he meant it like that. “Knox and I went to school together.”
Mike leans forward, setting his wine aside. “Really? You two seemed to know each other. I had wondered if maybe you were a couple, so I was a little surprised when you wanted to go to lunch.”
Before I can answer, I take a nice gulp of my tasty mojito. “We are definitely not a couple. We hate each other.”
His brows shoot up somewhere around his hairline. “You’re kidding. I don’t know the guy, but he clearly has it bad for you. He’s been watching you since the minute he stepped on set.”
“Yeah, to figure out how to devil me. Knox Everheart lives to make my life miserable. Trust me. That’s all there is to that.”
“Well, good because he’s not a nice guy. Pretty arrogant too.”
“He’s very talented. It’s more confidence than arrogance.” Jeesh, now I’m defending Knox. I really need to fix my life. “You’re right though. He’s not a nice guy.”
The waiter brings our food and neither of us has a whole lot more to say. I didn’t realize how hungry I really was. And Mike may like Puerto Rican food after all.
Tostones
2 green plantains
6 cups cold water
4 tbsp Adobo seasoning
Salt to taste
Oil for frying
Peel and cut green plantains into 1-inch chunks and place in cold water with Adobo seasoning. Soak for an hour. Heat oil in a Dutch oven on medium-high and fry plantains 3-4 minutes. Remove plantains from oil and flatten each piece with a heavy skillet (or mallet). Dip each piece in water/Adobo mixture, and fry again 1-2 minutes per side. Drain and salt.
Yield: 4 servings
CHAPTER EIGHT
When I win…
Mike makes his flight this time, but we exchange phone numbers before he heads out. He’s perfectly fine I suppose, but I’m not sure there’s a spark there. I don’t mind exploring it a bit more to find out. Especially since Knox invades my thoughts at every turn. Even though I’ve tried, I can’t get our near-kiss out of my head. The look he gave me was tender and, in that moment, all our past transgressions melted away. I find myself daydreaming about what it would be like to be with Knox, to be a couple, and not fight all the time. Then I shake myself because there’s no Rowan and Knox without competition and bickering.
Since there’s no Mike-buffer the second day, Knox and I sit alone at different tables and do our best to ignore each other completely. Of course, that means alternating between stolen glances and harsh stares.
During the break for lunch, we go our separate ways, and I hit another spot I used to frequent, one serving sourdough bread and chowder. You can’t go to San Francisco without trying it at least once while you’re there. It’s cool out and I don’t have to go far from the studio.
At the end of the day, the Ortiz and Warren families move forward. Both will be worthy opponents, and the second round will not be as easy for us as the first one no matter which competitor we get.
When I make it to the airport, I’m grateful I didn’t have to talk to Knox all day. Maybe I’ve spoken to him for the last time ever. I snort, garnering a look from the woman sitting across from me at the gate. I dig in my backpack and pull out my earbuds and turn on my music so I can try to relax.
Knox is standing beside me in an elevator, the same one as in the hotel, and is holding my hand. I look down at our joined hands then up to his clean-shaven face. He’s beaming. Then his smile turns smoldering, his eyes alight with need.
When the elevator doors open, I yank him out, racing to my room close down the hall.
He follows readily and we fall through the door, hands and clothes and kisses. I pull him into the bathroom and run water for the Jacuzzi tub. We remove our remaining clothes while the tub fills, and I take a moment to marvel at his beautiful body. Hard chest, toned legs, and abs for days.
“Are you on this flight?”
I start awake. Wow, how long have I been out? I hope I didn’t talk in my sleep, or worse, moan. This is not the first dream I’ve had of Knox so I’m not even phased. I just didn’t realize I was so tired. I look up as I take my earbuds out. It’s the same woman from before.
“I hope you were waiting for this flight. If not, I’m sorry I woke you. I just didn’t want you to miss it.”
I gather my backpack and carry-on case, looking around, wiping drool from my chin. They’ve just called the last group. “I am on this flight. I can’t believe I fell asleep. Thank you so much.” That would have been a hot mess. Missing my flight sitting right at the damn gate, sex-dreaming about Knox.
I follow her through the entrance to our airplane after I scan the boarding pass on my phone, and wait in the jet bridge as the people in front of us board the plane, checking my seat assignment one more time. A window seat, which I guess is fine. I prefer the aisle, but there wasn’t one open when I booked. I suppose it’s better than a middle.
People are mostly settled with a last few raising bags into the overhead. I continue down the aisle, not really seeing the people seated as I pass. When I get to my row, there’s already someone seated in the aisle seat with an Astros snapback on, bent over note cards on their tray table. “Excuse me, I’m by the window.”
When Knox looks up, I swear there’s not even a hint of shock on his face as I’m sure there is on mine. He is absolutely unshakable, and that makes me hate him even more. “Sure, Amber.”
My lips tighten to the point of cracking, and I practically bite a hole into the inside of my cheek.
He stands in the aisle to let me pass and fucking winks at me.
Back to his usual self, I see.
Before I sit down, I make a big show of putting my luggage in the overhead and getting my backpack into the row, taking my sweater off. I want him to wait, just because, but I mostly want to get my shaking under control before I sit and it becomes noticeable. I just had a dream about getting naked with Knox, and now here he is, waiting to discover my dirty little secret.
When there’s nothing else I can find to do to stall, I lumber into my seat and pull out my earbuds.
Knox sits and puts his tray table up. The index cards mysteriously gone. He leans over the middle seat. “Hopefully nobody sits between us. Don’t you hate that?”