“As you all know, we’re very mindful of how we pair our teams.” She was clearly trying to reassure us they were not going to do us dirty, but you could still cut the tension with a knife. “We put together pairs who can join forces and bake interesting and delicious treats for us, and this year we have a bounty of talent.” That got some smiles and laughs because there was nothing more smug than a cook getting compliments. “Our first team is our Southern power pair, Alex Smith and Derek Barstad. We’re so excited to see how Alex’s soulful flavors fuse with Derek’s Scandinavian creations.”
“I’m still gonna beat you boys!” I was a clown, and the tension did ease a bit after that. And both Alex and Derek looked very pleased with the outcome.
The next team was Kaori and Gustavo, who both seemed happy and even I had to admit his Central American-inspired bakes with Kaori’s Japanese delicacies sounded like a fascinating combination.
Kiskeya was leaning in so much that she was almost doubled over as Patricia got ready to announce the last two teams. I surprised myself when my heart started beating so fast I could feel it all the way up my throat. I was nervous. Because as much as I’d told my family I didn’t care if I won the competition, that I just wanted a chance to prove to myself I could do it—I really wanted to win. I wanted the money. To finally have the resources to do something for myself, so who I got paired up with mattered. And honestly, the Beccas scared the shit out of me. When I glanced at Kiskeya, I saw her look between the Beccas and our table with worry. I wondered if she was trying to decide what was worst.
“The third team,” I heard Patricia’s voice through the fog of my own fretting, “was sort of a no-brainer, because we want those ratings and we could not pass up a chance to advertise a team called the Beccas.”
Fuck.
I glanced over at the two women in question, trying hard to avoid the horror that was surely making an appearance on my teammate’s face. They looked smug, and I promised myself I would do whatever it took to beat their asses. I held myself tight, my chin up, as I stared straight ahead at Patricia and waited for her to actually say it. Dreading what Kiskeya’s reaction would be, hoping she wouldn’t say something that would make me feel small.
“And last but not least, we have our Dominican Divas!” People applauded, and with every word, I felt like another bolt was tightened on my neck. “We have the home baker bringing all the Caribbean flavors and the pastry chef who’s determined to earn the chance to work at one of the world’s most renowned pâtisseries.” I did turn then and saw the blood drain almost completely from Kiskeya’s face. She looked like she wanted to be anywhere but here.
With a knot in my stomach which felt like it would choke me, I leaned in again, knowing I would almost surely make matters worse.
“Don’t look so spooked, mija. I promise I don’t bite.” My teammate’s back somehow got even straighter, and because I had no fucking sense, I opened my mouth again, this time so close I could smell her shampoo. “Unless you ask, of course.”
That did not get me a smile. At some point I’d have to ask myself why hearing Kiskeya Burgos say my name pronounced in pissed-off Dominican Spanish, set off a flurry of butterflies in my stomach.
Chapter 3
Kiskeya
“Everything’s fine... E-ve-ry-thing’s fine.”
That was the mantra I’d been repeating from the moment I heard who I’d been teamed up with. I mean, what kind of messed up cliché was this?
Putting the two Dominicans together? What the hell? Because that’s all it was. They wanted us in a team, so we could put some adobo in the show or some shit.
Well, they were in for a hell of a surprise. I was not some Dominican spice fairy. I was a cranky bitch with a job to do. If they needed comic relief, I was not the motherfucking one.
I slumped on the seat of the luxury van that was taking us from our hotel up to Edinburgh Castle. Because now that they’d paired us off, we were supposed to be “building rapport.” It was going to be a hell of a week. I was dreading how things would go with Sully; we were already butting heads. Mostly because I was being a grump. But once I started, it was hard to turn it off, and she seemed to get off on teasing me. Also her general hotness made me nauseous in a way that could only end poorly.
I kept my head down, but let my eyeballs drift to the seat next to mine where the baker in question was looking relaxed, chatting with Alex and Derek who were in the row in front of us.
“I’m so excited for the Christmas high tea!” She squealed in excitement, and I felt the sound somewhere between my ribs and other places that would remain unnamed. “Isla said we’ll have the tea room all to ourselves.” Another squeal, and this time she must’ve pulled a face too because Alex’s booming laugh sounded through the van.
“I’ve always wanted to come to Scotland. It’s wild this is how I ended up being able to come. I’ve been reading up on the area where our castle is!” She sounded so thrilled. Fuck, why did she have to be so pure? “We’re right by where they filmed Outlander.”
“Outlander! Oh my goodness, there’s no chance we’ll run into Jaime, is there?” Kaori’s fangirl moment managed to even pull a laugh out of me.
“What are you excited about, Kiskeya?” I guess I could not make myself invisible after all.
When I looked up, I found matching expectant looks from Kaori, Gustavo, Derek, and Alex. The Beccas opted out from the tour, saying they were going to bond by doing a little shopping, because a basic bitch will be a basic bitch. But my row companion was offering no more encouraging stares—what I got was withering side-eye and a new version of unbothered.
I wanted to say that I’d been wishing for a trip to Scotland for years too. That this was a dream come true, but instead, I went with the most asshole-ish version of me I could conjure up. “I wish they’d just let us start practicing. It seems sort of wasteful not to use the time to get ready for the contest.”
The eyeroll Sully directed my way told me everything I needed to know about how my comment landed with her, and the rest of the teams exchanged various iterations of “What’s her problem?” looks.
“Kiskeya, you need to chill.”
If a person could speak in side-eye, Sully would be fluent. And apparently, unlike the rest of the bus who seemed to understand I wasn’t in the mood for cheer, she got right back into my space.
“You want to go to the Christmas Village tonight?”
I was going to have to start carrying an extra stick of deodorant in my pack this week, because being around Sully had my perspiration levels at an all-time high.
Also, was she immune to stank face?
“Umm no. I don’t think I’ll be going the Christmas Village.” I knew I could be scary when I was pissed. My face could make grown men tear up, but Sully was currently nodding along as I shot her down and tapping on her phone.
“They have a North Pole house.” How were her eyes so big, and her eyelashes legit almost touched her eyebrows. I wish I could look away. I did my best to give off hardcore grumpy vibes as we stepped off the van, but she was relentless. “It has a bar!”
Alex perked up as soon as he heard the reference to alcohol. “Where?!”
“There’s a Christmas Village North Pole bar.” Why was I enunciating?
Sully nodded as we all followed the driver who would hand us off to the tour guide. “Yes, it should be fun. Kiskeya and I are going tonight. You guys want to come?”
Wait, what?
I opened my mouth about to protest, when Sully let out a high-pitched squeal and turned in a circle. “Oh my God, this view is amazing. Guys!” she yelled at the others, one hand waving them to her and using the other to tap on her phone screen. “We’re in Edinburgh; we’re together.” She threw her head back, looking up at the sky. “It’s a moment.” She said the last word with such reverence, like she could hardly believe she was really here. It made us all stop in our tracks.
When I looked at her with her hair down now, honey-color
ed curls flying in the afternoon breeze, her face golden from the setting sun, I knew I’d have to work very hard not to get carried away by this girl. I was feeling her so much, I had to get some distance.
I hung back as the others gathered on either side of Sully, her arms stretched high looking for the best angle. I told myself the pit in my stomach was absolutely not want, because I wasn’t doing that. I was here about my business, and my business was not Sully Morales.
“Kiskeya, ven.” My whole body thrummed when I heard her call my name. I turned my face to where they were standing, my thick heavy hair whipping in the wind. Even with strands all over my face, I managed to spot her.
Ven. Come to me, she said. And as if her hand held a string to my core, when she crooked her finger, I did.
“Here,” Sully said, as she placed an arm around my shoulder. “Scoot down a little and tip your head up.” She clicked her tongue at whatever she saw on the screen of her phone, making the others laugh. “Come on, Kiske, smile like you’re on top of a mountain about to tour a castle, chula.” The glee in her voice made my lips turn up despite myself. Her arm tightened around my shoulder and impossibly, I smiled wider.
“Don’t call me chula, Sully.” Even to my own ears, I sounded a lot more delighted than annoyed. The truth was, even my surly ass couldn’t help getting caught in the moment.
I heard a kissing noise from behind my head, and my stomach dipped like I was on a roller coaster. “Okay, no more chula, mi chulita.”
I just shook my head, too nauseous to respond.
After the selfie photoshoot—it took multiple tries before Sully deemed we had a photo worthy of the Gram—we were greeted by a docent who showed us around the castle. Giving us all the inside gossip about what the past dwellers of the massive building had gotten up to. Between Sully, Alex, and Gustavo’s silly questions and opinions on pretty much everything, it was hard not to feel the excitement of the day.
By the time we walked out of the castle and were back in the bus headed to the hotel, it was dark. The high tea with prosecco made me malleable enough to let Sully catch me in a moment of weakness.
She was riffling through the bag of trinkets she’d bought at the castle’s gift shop when she asked, “You’re coming with me the to the Santa bar, right? Team building, Kiskeya. It’s team building.” She informed me, waving a hand between us.
It was just light enough outside for me to catch the smile hiding behind her mass of curls. Oh my stupid, stupid heart. I wanted. I wanted so much, my chest tightened and my skin prickled. That light-headedness that was usually the precursor to bad, career-ending decisions tried to edge out all the rules I’d set for myself on the way here.
Rule number one: No distractions.
“I don’t know if the Baking Challenge’s idea of building rapport is getting drunk with a bunch of fake elves.”
Why did her laugh make me think of flowers? Stupidly, I thought, she should always be wearing a crown of them on her head.
“I didn’t say we needed to get drunk with the elves, just walk around. We’re going to be stuck in that castle for a whole week.”
I tried to tell myself, one night out wouldn’t hurt. A few drinks with my teammate would be a good way to get to know each other, but I knew better.
Rule number two: No ill-advised crushes.
“I’m almost one hundred percent sure the Beccas ditched us to go find a commercial kitchen somewhere to practice, Sully. I can’t blow this.”
It was as if all the anxiety that I’d managed to keep down all afternoon flooded back into my head at once, and suddenly, I was short of breath. There was too much riding on this. I closed my eyes, thinking over what I’d just said. Trying to untangle what was real from what was worming into my head.
“Hey.” I opened one eye and found Sully’s concerned brown eyes on me. “Forget about the Beccas. We got this.” Her hand rubbed circles between my shoulder blades, and slowly, I felt my breathing even out. Despite my reluctance to come on the tour, Isla and Patricia had been right. It had been good to hang out with everyone. But the way I was responding to Sully...there was danger here for me.
I kept my eyes closed when I answered Sully, I didn’t want to look at her face as she realized she’d gotten stuck with a hot mess. “I’m not going to take a bunch of selfies with fake elves, Sully. I have a couple hundred Instagram followers and a reputation to uphold.”
“Did you hear that, Kaori?” she called to the front of the bus where Kaori and Gustavo had been sitting with their heads close together, probably scheming how to beat us all. “My partner has a whole two hundred followers on Insta. I got myself an influencer, bitches!”
That had everyone laughing again and me helplessly shaking my head, which seemed to be my permanent state with Sully. It was safer than getting distracted by her mouth, and I needed to set a hard line of not looking anywhere south of her collarbone. Every minute, every second with Sully seemed to flip a switch inside, lighting me up as she went. Keeping my head in the game was basically survival at this point.
“You guys better get yourselves together because we’ve got the Dominican Dream Team over here.” She bumped my shoulder, and I finally opened my eyes, and came face to face with all that was Sully Morales. “We’re going to blow them away when we hit them with Tropical Storm Sullkis.”
I would not survive this contest if she kept looking at me like that.
“Did you just mash up our names?” Helplessly, I started laughing at her ridiculousness. I could not remember when I’d felt this excited and terrified at the same time. Probably since before I left the island.
“I sure did. Team Sullkis is about to take this challenge!” She yelled with her head thrown back, obviously trying to rile up the others.
“Oh, so your name’s first?”
“Duh. Of course my name’s first. I made it up! Also KiSull doesn’t roll off the tongue. Team Sullkis is it.” This was said with finger snapping and shoulder shimmying. “They won’t know what to do when we hit them with the DR flavors. We’re going to work magic with some mangos and coconuts. Bring the tropics to Scotland.”
She bit the tip of her tongue, sharp teeth letting me only get a peek of pink. And I swallowed hard. This girl. She made feel too much. Getting carried away, letting my feelings interfere with my professional life, mixing business with pleasure was a mistake I could not afford.
Rule number three: No kissing your kitchen partners.
I turned my head away from her before I said it, “I need a little space, Sully. You’re just a lot. I get that you want to ‘do it for the culture’ and everything.” I felt like an asshole making air quotes. “But I’m not going to be all over-the-top Dominican. That’s not my style.”
As soon as I said it, I felt terrible, but maybe if she hated my guts, then I could focus on this contest. The “what the fuck” from Sully that followed my words got drowned out by the driver informing us we’d arrived back at the hotel.
We stepped out of the van in silence as I waited for the cussing out that never happened.
“I’m not up to going to the Christmas Village after all,” she said as she walked out of the bus, not even bothering to look at me. “But this isn’t the end of it, Kiskeya. You’re not the only one in charge here.”
She walked toward the revolving glass door leading into our hotel, but she stopped right before stepping in, her head only half-turned when she spoke to me. “I’m not going to start some drama, so people can talk shit about the Latinas getting into it before we even started, but if you really want space, you’re going to get it. From now on, it’s all business.”
Chapter 4
Sully
Fuck Team Sullkis.
What the hell was “over-the-top Dominican” anyways? I knew she had to be serious since Kiskeya was too fucking stuck-up to even attempt humor, but that shit last night had been totally uncalled for. Especially since we actually had fun at the castle together. Sure, she’d started off grumpy,
but by the end she was chatting and all smiles. And I lost count of the times I caught her looking my way like she was trying to drill a hole through my bra. Kiskeya wasn’t fooling anyone with her “I am an island” mess.
I’d been ignoring her all morning and had opted to sit at the back of the van that was taking us to the castle where the competition would take place. It was hard to stay really mad while driving through the Scottish countryside though, because man, this place was pretty.
I took a photo of a particularly lovely stretch and sent it to my mom and brother, to go with the few others I’d taken. It was a little early for them to see them, but they’d be texting as soon as they woke up. I’d been checking on my mom more than necessary. It was the first time I’d been away since she’d gotten hurt, and I was feeling overprotective.
She was fine now, was even doing the books for the family bodega again. I’d promised my mother I’d be selfish this week and I was trying. I’d even been hoping I could take selfish to the next level and get some high quality making-out in this week, but Kiskeya was pissing me off.
My phone buzzed with a text, distracting me from seething about my teammate’s bullshit.
Hey mija. I love it. It’s so green over there! Are you feeling better? I’m sure you can work it out. What are the chances you’d end up with another Dominicana? That’s a sign, baby. You’re going to win this thing.
I sent her a short message asking how she was feeling and thankful this fancy bus had Wi-Fi, so I could at least take my mind off the massive fight that would surely go down between me and Kiskeya later. There was no fucking way, no way, I was going to cave on incorporating the DR’s flavors in our bakes.
Nuh-uh. We were going to fight. I was not coming all the way to Scotland to bake a bunch of bland shit because Kiskeya had a complex. She needed to work that shit out in therapy like the rest of us did. If I wanted to get my mango and piña on, I was going to do it.
“Wow. Sweetheart, that is not a friendly expression.” It was hard to stay pissed when Alex was around. He was like a pint-sized, extremely well-groomed brown teddy bear, but even he couldn’t get me out of my Kiskeya-induced funk.
Mangos and Mistletoe Page 3
