She looked kind of cute when she was pissed. “Sully, deja eso. It’s a big box, you need to come here.” She was waving her hands at the two packages that were sitting side by side on one of the desks in the room.
“Okay, I’m coming. So testy.”
I smiled when I got there and noticed her box was still intact. “Awww, roomie! Were you waiting for me to open them?”
She shrugged, looking adorably embarrassed. And as I’d noticed she did whenever she was a little bit outside of her depth, she took the ever-present elastic band on her wrist and did her hair up in a tall ponytail. Putting her perfect cheekbones and big brown eyes on full display.
She never wore any makeup. Just a little bit of lip balm. But otherwise, her face was always fresh. I’d caught myself staring at those perfectly shaped lips more than once. Kiskeya was beautiful. Like “wreck my life” gorgeous, but there was a sadness just under the surface that made me want to make all kinds of bad choices.
“You ready?”
Right, the boxes. “I am.”
We tore into them like kids on Christmas morning. My box had a red apron with my name stitched along the top, and I saw Kiskeya pull out chef whites with piping the same color as my apron. Her name was stitched on hers too.
She ran a finger over the letters, and there was just a slight tremor in her hand. Her reaction made my own chest tighten. This was big, and it felt imperative to do something to mark the occasion. I jumped, remembering I’d brought some pins to put on my apron.
“Wait!”
She looked up from admiring her chef whites, her brows furrowed. “What?”
“I have something for you.” Right when I was about to show her, I realized she might not want what I was about to give her at all. “Actually, never mind.” I waved a hand in dismissal of the idea and went back to my apron.
She huffed in apparent frustration. “Come on, Sully. What is it?”
I felt dumb now and wished I hadn’t said anything. I had the suspicion I was just going to get a rebuff, and the little bit of goodwill we’d managed to create between us would go up in flames.
“It’s nothing. Forget it.”
Kiskeya’s eye rolls were pretty epic, but I was too jittery too smile.
“Dejame ver.” This was going to be my kryptonite, when she got all stern in Spanish.
“Fine,” I said and fished them out of my backpack. “Here.” I thrust my open palm toward her.
She furrowed her brow and picked up the little heart which was one half Dominican flag and the other half the Pride one.
“You can use that one. I’ll use my brujita pin,” I explained, as she examined the heart a bit more.
When she finally looked at mine, she laughed. “Is that a witch in an apron?”
“No,” I protested. “It’s a brujita with an apron. Put your pin on your whites Kiskeya. The DR flag is not gonna give you cooties.”
She flattened her mouth at my accusation, and I immediately felt bad. I always walked around telling people not to make assumptions about others, and here I was doing it. I just wanted to know what was going through her head. Why she looked at me with such longing in one moment, and could be so closed off the next.
Kiskeya looked down at the pin on her palm, then fisted it as she worked out whatever she was going to say. I was beginning to regret starting this, but I also knew myself, and if we didn’t have this out now, it would be worse in the long run.
Finally she looked up, but didn’t make eye contact when she spoke. “Sully, it’s not that I don’t love my country. I do, but it’s complicated, okay?”
She turned her gaze and finally met my eyes for whatever came next. “I really don’t want to sound like an asshole, but I don’t know any other way to say this.” She cringed, as if already anticipating how I’d take whatever she was about to tell me. “The DR is not an ancestral home I went to for a few weeks in the summer. It’s where I lived my whole life, you know? And even though I love it, I also know I had to leave it. I couldn’t be my full self there, not really. I haven’t been gone long enough to romanticize some of the stuff that was hard.”
Fuck, I really misjudged this. “I hadn’t thought about it that way.”
To her credit, she didn’t scoff or roll her eyes. “I’m just trying to live, Sully. I don’t hate myself or my roots, but I’ve also been cut down more than once for ‘bastardizing the classics’ when I’ve tried to do something like back home, or put my own spin on a recipe. I don’t want to be humiliated. So yeah, I’m careful of not overdoing it in the kitchen. It’s shitty that I have to think that way, but it is what it is.”
I had no idea what to say, so I went with what I was feeling. “Can we start over?”
She smiled, and I was sure it was the first real one I’d seen, because it practically obliterated me. If I thought Kiskeya was beautiful before, soft and smiling Kiskeya was devastating.
She thrust the hand without the pin toward me. “Me llamo Kiskeya, y soy Dominicana.”
I gripped her fingers in mine and pushed up to kiss her on the cheek. “Soy Sully, y soy Dominicana tambien.”
We stayed like that for a few seconds, our fingers intertwined, and then she put the pin on her whites. She did so carefully, and when she was done, held it up in front of her, her eyes solemn. “Thank you.”
I nodded, feeling the moment a bit too much. “This is a big deal for you.” With every word I got Kiskeya a little bit more. And in the process I could feel her getting all the way under my skin.
She pursed her lips, brown eyes piercing me. “Isn’t it for you?”
Of course it was, but I didn’t want to give it power over me. “I want to do well. I’d love to win.” But if I don’t, I’ll be fine. I didn’t say it because we both knew it was not the same for her.
Something passed over her face, but I couldn’t tell what. “We need to start getting ready. We have to read all this before practice.” And just like that, she was back to business.
She pulled out a binder from the box, then tipped her chin toward mine. “I think we each have one of these,” she offered, as she flipped pages.
I dug out my binder, a twin to hers, and brought it to the loveseat right off the fireplace in our room. As chill as I wanted to be about this, with every line I read, the excitement built. Kiskeya sunk into an armchair right across from me and started reading out loud.
“Three challenges. All in one day.” She didn’t need to state the obvious—it was going be a grind.
I nodded, reading my sheet. “First one is a classic with a twist.”
She picked up where I stopped. “They tell us what to make, but we can do whatever we want with the flavors. They picked rugelach and Linzer cookies.”
“Nice. What do you want to do for the twist?” I paused from reading up on the time we’d get for the challenges and competition rules—since I knew I’d brought our first potential argument to the forefront, but Kiskeya was ready for me.
She held up a hand pleadingly. “Can we read through and then talk details? Please?”
I sighed, “I heard what you said. I get that you’ve had bad experiences before, but for this competition, we have no reason to hold back on everything.” I needed her to get that I wasn’t going to let her steamroll me on this. “We need to meet halfway.”
“I’ll try.” She was fighting dirty with that pout. I lifted a finger and pointed in the direction of the lips in question.
“I need to keep my eye on you.”
Oh, a shy smile. Be still my motherfucking heart.
“Second challenge is called ‘When in Scotland’!” She was really fucking cute when she was excited.
“Yeah, looks like we’ll be doing an elaborate version of a traditional Scottish recipe.”
She looked up from the binder, beaming. “Shortbread Houses.”
There wasn’t any information for the third challenge which we knew was the Showoff Showcase. That one was the same every season, only the theme cha
nged. All we got was how long the challenge was and a clue.
“Ornaments?”
I nodded as I recited the rest of the instructions. “Yep. Seems like each team will get three hours of practice today. We’re lucky we’re on the second shift. We get more planning time.”
Kiskeya scowled as she read, her teeth gnawing on her bottom lip. “We have to go see the makeup people.” She made a face, and stuck her tongue out at the binder, which had me cracking up. “I don’t like makeup.”
“You’ll be fine. Just let her know you like a natural look. Also, I’m not sure what wardrobe means. I’m wearing leggings and Nikes.”
Kiske dipped her head in agreement. “Same.”
“Looks like that’s all the info we’re getting for now,” I proclaimed as I slammed shut my binder, needing to get my mind off Kiskeya’s ass encased in spandex. “We have a little bit of time before we have to go down. What challenge do we fight about first?”
Kiskeya brought her wrist up to look at her iWatch then eyed me with just a hint of something that looked very fucking close to flirtatious.
Oh shit. Where was this coming from? And why was she leaning in so close?
I felt like prey with the way she was looking at me.
“I fight dirty, Sully.”
I wanted to ask what else she did dirty, but instead I just licked my suddenly very dry lips, as Kiskeya looked poised to pounce.
“Is it hot in here? Do we need to open a window?” I sounded flustered and that elicited a wicked laugh from my baking partner.
“Feeling warm, Ms. Morales?” She smiled but made sure she kept her distance. “You’ll cool off now. I just wanted to show you that you’re not the only one who can make people sweat.”
I had to laugh at how smug she looked. “Turnabout’s a bitch, I guess. Me asusta, pero me gusta.”
She threw her head back at the reference to an old ranchera song. “I’m not sure what the biggest lie is: that you’d be scared of me or that you like me.”
I was surprised to feel a lump in my throat from hearing her say that. “I like you.”
She lifted a shoulder. “I’m not the easiest person to deal with. I’m too intense and sort of snobby.”
Okay, yeah, these were true statements, but that didn’t stop me from wanting to make her feel better even though only hours ago we were barely speaking. “That doesn’t mean you’re not likable.”
She smiled, but it was so sad, like she knew eventually I’d change my mind. I wanted to fix all of it. To tell her I’d already realized I’d been wrong about her, but before I could think of how to say it, I felt the pad of her finger on my temple. “You had some glitter from the box near your eye.”
She ran her thumb over the spot a couple of times, and I felt a pool of heat gather between my legs. I wondered what would happen if I turned my face just an inch so her wrist was right against my lips. If I darted the tip of my tongue out just...for a second.
Her breath caught as I looked up, and she held my gaze, her hand still on my face.
What were we supposed to be doing anyway?
Fuck. She was fighting dirty and this was such a bad idea. We hadn’t even started the contest and I was already muddying the waters, and I was going to keep wading in too. I turned my head just enough to catch her palm with my teeth. I bit gently into the soft skin, and my pulse thrummed. I could feel the rush of blood to my head.
Kiss me.
Just. Fucking. Kiss. Me.
Once again I caved first and leaned forward, but after a second, she leaned too. I could smell the lemongrass, sweat and her own scent. It was all intoxicating. This kiss would probably ruin this whole week, and I didn’t care. I closed my eyes when her warm breath touched my skin.
“Time for wardrobe check!”
The pounding on our door almost gave me a cardiac episode, and by the time I figured out what had happened, Kiskeya had pulled off some kind of ninja move. She was all the way on the other side of the room opening the door, and telling whoever was there we’d be down in a minute. I just sat on the couch gasping for breath.
She closed the door and leaned against it, looking as winded as I was. “That wasn’t smart.”
I opened my mouth to say something, but before I could get a word out, she grabbed her shoes, tucked them under her arm, and escaped.
Chapter 7
Sully
We’d had a busy couple of hours, and now were in the kitchen ready to get on with our practice time. Kiskeya took the almost-kiss in stride and had been all business as we made our way through makeup and wardrobe, afternoon meetings and finally to the studio kitchen.
We were wearing aprons we’d found hanging on hooks by our workstation. The brand-new red ones were reserved for filming tomorrow, and I was leaning against a counter, observing Kiskeya as she sat on one of the enormous butcher tables. She dangled her legs as she read through the new packet we’d gotten from Isla. She looked so young. She was only twenty-six I’d found out during lunch after Kaori had asked. Two years younger than me, but she’d been all on her own for three years now.
How was I going to resist kissing her? Whenever she blew a stray strand of hair off her forehead, the need to touch her practically gnawed at me. I glanced at the gray fitted sweats and cream-colored Sherpa hoodie she was wearing today. She kept it simple, with clothes, hair, everything. She had that mix of butch and femme that got me every fucking time. Her limbs long and rangy. There was power in that body though. It was hard to focus with her so close. I knew it was more lust than anything else, but all I could think of was running my hands over all that bronzed skin.
“Sully!”
Fuck, I’d been staring.
“Sorry, was just thinking of recipes.”
She gave me a sideways look which told me she knew exactly what I’d been up to, but she was too excited with whatever she’d just read to give it much thought. “Did you read the judges list?!”
I hadn’t; they always had the same two and a rotating guest. I honestly didn’t care who it was. Apparently that was not the case for Kiskeya, who was more animated than I’d seen her so far. She jumped down from her perch on the table and came to stand next to me, stretching a hand to flip through my notebook until she found what she wanted.
“See! Jean-Georges is the visiting judge!” I knew this was supposed to be big news for me, but I was drawing a complete blank. Kiskeya let out a frustrated sound and threw her hands up in the air.
God, how could I want to fuck someone this bad and find them so adorable at the same time?
“He’s the owner of Farine et Sucre!” Oh right, the Dream Job. “We have to be on our A game, Sully. I really want to impress him.”
This was how I kept my hands and my lust to myself. By remembering that Kiskeya was here to get a job at a pâtisserie in LA—across the country from where I lived. Hell, I had an out. Six days and we’d each go on our way. Full stop. Easy, breezy, no complications.
“I got your back.” And whatever that twinge was somewhere in my chest when I said it, well, I was just going to ignore it.
“Thanks for saying that, but we really do need to start figuring out what we’re going to make. I don’t like feeling unprepared, and believe me, it’s not pretty when I do.”
She pulled open the binder and went to the notes section. There were pens and pencils on top of the desk, and I got up to grab one for her.
I knew this conversation was going to have its bumps, but now that we were on the verge of starting to work as a team, I couldn’t help feeling that frisson of excitement. Kiskeya would be a great teammate; she would give it her all. And that would push me to do the same.
“Let’s do this! Team Sullkis is about to bring the platano power to Scotland.”
She shook her head in response to my comment then wrote something on a blank sheet of paper. “I’m thinking for the Linzer cookies we can do a sugar plum flavor.”
I twisted my mouth to the side, unimpressed. “What th
e fuck is a sugar plum?”
That eye roll was going to get old real quick. “It’s not a real fruit.”
Okay, Dr. Obvious. “Duh, that’s why I asked what the hell you were talking about.”
Her scowl was also not my favorite, but I wasn’t going to start fighting first. I kept quiet while she elaborated on the sugar plum idea. “We can poach the plums in mulling spices, maybe with a little ginger, then make a jam.”
That did sound kind of good, but I had an idea too. “How about guava? Linzers are a shortbread type crust and guava would work great. Don’t glare at me, Kiskeya Burgos.”
All right, a stare-off then.
She didn’t say anything for a full thirty seconds, and I knew she was trying to figure out how to shoot down my idea without pissing me off.
“Your face is going to get stuck like that.” I was a brat. So the fuck what?
To her credit, she went with probably the most soothing voice she could manage. “Guava’s fine, but it’s kind of predictable. They’re going to expect us to come with something super tropical out of the gate. Why not go for something more whimsical, Christmassy?”
“Guava’s Christmassy.” Oh yeah, that eye roll was going to be a problem.
“It’s not in Scotland, Sully. At least admit the sugar plum idea’s good. We can infuse the butter with Earl Grey for the crust. It’ll be aromatic and a nice match for the jam.”
“Fine.”
I really wished I didn’t find her smile so damn hot.
“I have an idea for the rugelach too.”
“Of course you do.” I had my arms crossed tight against my chest, genuinely pissed now. Because clearly Kiskeya’s idea of teamwork was actually the Kiskeya Show.
“Hear me out first. How about hot chocolate rugelach?”
Dammit that idea was really good too.
She smiled very mischievously, and I knew my non-poker face had foiled me again. “Admit it. You like my idea.”
“Perhaps.” I wasn’t going to throw her a party.
“We can put a little cayenne in it, make it like a Mexican hot chocolate.”
Now, it was my turn at an eye roll. “That’s not Dominican.”
Mangos and Mistletoe Page 5
