The gesture of comfort, that she'd felt the need to reassure him, moved him deeply. Xavier leaned down slowly, watching her eyes, seeing himself in the amber and gold. He paused for a moment, drawing in her scent, watching her lips part and hearing her breath catch. Moving achingly slow, he touched his lips to hers.
She wrapped her arms around him, and warmth spread through him, thawing the cold, untouched parts of his soul.
After a long moment, Ashley pulled back, her gaze searching his face. "You look so weary. Can I do anything to help?"
He drew her back against him. "You already are."
CHAPTER NINE
A football sailed over her workstation.
Ashley rose from stowing her bag under the counter and turned around.
Sure enough, Tyson threw a perfect spiral to Dion three stations away. Then Dion lobbed it to Xavier. Her partner half-dived across their workstation's counter to make the catch, then he tossed it to Everson in the crowd.
Round two of the competition nearly underway, a flurry of activity unfolded around them with people unloading supplies, producers rushing around and in the thick of it all, the camera crew was in position, documenting every step.
Brow raised, she turned away from the football antics and listened as the baking trash talk continued behind her.
She and Xavier had spent hours in the kitchen the day before, baking batches of cookies and cupcakes and he'd even attempted a two-layer cake all on his own. She'd felt pretty confident. But yesterday's confidence was today's worry. Good enough no longer good enough. Not when her very last backup plan had failed.
She hadn't gotten the loan.
The thought repeated itself over and over again. Throughout lunch with her sister, and the ride to the Convention Center, and greeting Xavier and members of the network.
A smile couldn't always fool someone into feeling better. She would know. She'd worn a fake smile for hours now, and her insides still felt hollow and raw.
A loud crash jolted her. She spun around. A pie plate, a rolling pin, and various other supplies were scattered across the floor, next to that damn football.
Frustration boiled over.
Hands on her hips, she turned. And four pairs of apologetic eyes watched her from lowered gazes. She stalked closer as anger boiled. But then she caught sight of the camera. Time to hide even more emotion. Pasting on a smile, she bent to retrieve the rolling pin and infused as much sugar into her voice as possible. "Guys, if you're going to toss the football, then I think I'll need some protectors like the guys that protect the quarterback. What are they called? The offensive line, right?"
"You got it." Tyson nodded with an approving smile. "You need an O-line? I'll volunteer. Hey, Xavier, switch teams with me."
The audience laughed.
Blackstone's mouth twisted into a grimace as he stood at his station. "We all need an O-line, apparently. But I need even more than that. Could you please attempt to take this seriously? This isn't a football field. It's a baking competition."
Tyson's smile fell away from his face. Shoulders slumped, he handed the ball to Everson and returned to his place behind his station. "Sorry, man."
Ashley gathered up the items from the floor and brought them to the sink. Xavier joined her. She turned on the tap, and took a moment to choose her words. "I can't believe I'm actually on Blackstone's side for something, but he's right. With ovens and sharp objects and people who can get hurt, playing around and diving for a ball isn't smart. But beyond that, even if this competition isn't important to you guys, to some of us, it's everything. You need to take this seriously."
Xavier took the rolling pin from her and swiped a towel over it. "The competition hasn't started yet. We're just having fun. We're allowed to have fun, you know. It's encouraged. You need to lighten up."
Anger flashed again, like lightning, hot and fast. "You should be helping me get ready, not playing toss the pigskin. This is why I always hated group projects in school. Most of the group would goof off, and there would be one person stuck doing all the work."
"Hey. That's not fair. I've been working hard too. I did help with set up, but it's done. Or it was until those things fell on the floor. It's okay to relax for a few minutes and let off a little steam." He jerked his head toward the cameras. "This is supposed to be entertainment."
"Then maybe you should switch over solely to what Everson is doing. Then it can be nothing but fun for you. I need a partner, not a player."
His lips formed a firm line, and his eyes blazed. "Fine. You want serious, you'll get it."
"Thank you." She gathered the cleaned items into her arms and staggered back to the counter. Adrenaline carried her to the spot. She'd been running on it all day.
Xavier was at her side once again. He crossed his arms over his chest. "What the hell is going on?"
"I'm trying to win a competition."
"No. You weren't like this on Thursday, or yesterday when we were practicing, or even this morning at the 5k. You were stressed before, but this is a whole other level. The producers asked my teammates and me to play around today. They said it was a little too serious on Thursday and wanted more banter and fun. That we needed to lighten up the atmosphere."
"So they want you to be a hindrance and not a help?"
His eyes narrowed, and he leaned in. "Careful, there. You don't want to say something you might regret later."
"Just leave the football and the jokes behind, okay?"
He stood too close, making the space feel even smaller. Movement to her left caught her attention. A cameraman had his lens aimed at them. How long had he been there? How much had he seen? Damn it. Too late, she turned her back to the camera. Xavier also must have noticed the cameraman because he turned away and muttered an expletive under his breath.
Happy, chirpy music blared from the speakers, sharply contrasting the anger swirling and clawing in her gut. She checked her station—for the tenth time that morning. By only sharing the news to "lighten up" with the players and excluding the bakers, the network had set up the potential for a lot of conflict. Ratings were important, she got that, but trying to force things in this way wasn't right. Maybe they didn't understand that for some people, like her, the stakes were so high they were in the stratosphere.
If she lost this round due to a football arcing into her station...
The host stood, microphone in hand, in front of the camera. Off to the side, one of the producers counted down, "And we're live in three, two, one..."
"Good evening, Food TV viewers." The show's host smiled and greeted the judges and ran through a quick catch-up for new viewers. Then he faced the teams. "Bakers, interference happens on the football field, and it's happening in this competition too. Instead of cake, today's theme is pie. And if one pie is good, then two would be better. You'll have ninety minutes to create two pies. One of them must use refrigerated pie crust. The other one can have any type of crust you want. We'll start the clock... now!"
Ashley turned toward Xavier. "I wasn't expecting pies. Or that we'd have to use refrigerated pie crust for one of them. I'm thinking my mom's apple pie, and then for the refrigerated one, what if we made your mom's ricotta pie?"
His brows shot up and for a split second, something vulnerable flickered in his gaze, but it was gone with his next blink. "Whatever you think is best, partner."
How had he made partner sound like a bad thing? "I'll handle the pie crust. You start peeling apples."
Ashley rushed to combine the flour, butter, salt and sugar for her made-from-scratch pie crust. She divided the dough into halves and put them in the refrigerator to chill.
Voices carried from Blackstone Bakery's station. "No rolling pin. How the hell did we misplace the rolling pin? I know I saw you with it last." Blackstone glared at Tyson and then crouched on the floor and dug through a box. "We don't have time to run around looking for it."
"I swear I put it back on the counter." Tyson glanced around the station, snatched up
a water bottle, and held it sideways. "Maybe this..."
Ashley inched closer. If Blackstone didn't have a rolling pin and had to resort to using a plastic water bottle with dents and ridges, the aesthetic quality of his pies would suffer.
The temptation to pretend she hadn't overheard his predicament was strong. She needed to win, but not like this. Especially not with how he was blaming Tyson. Maybe the missing rolling pin was the result of the producers' need to add in more conflict... After what had happened with the football, she wouldn't put anything past anyone. She strode over to their station and stood in front of Blackstone.
She couldn't look at him and not think of him as her nemesis. But if she were stuck in his situation, she'd want someone to be kind. "I overheard your rolling pin problem. Here, you can use this."
Surprise coloring his features, Blackstone warily regarded the wooden spiral she held out. "But, don't you need it?"
"We brought two." Her mother's pin would bring more than good luck. She'd never trust that one to him, but maybe using one with Bliss Bakery stamped onto it would imprint something into his subconscious.
He slowly reached for the pin. Watching the confusion and hesitation play across his face, she pushed the pin closer. "Take it. You need it."
Head cocked to the side, he studied her a moment longer, then offered a careful smile and closed his hand closed around the spindle. "Thank you."
She nodded and returned to her station. Xavier brushed her arm as she passed and the incidental contact burned through her. The brief contact revived the want, the need, the desire she'd been determined to ignore. Impossible now, with her nerve endings on fire.
Until he opened his mouth. "Fraternizing with the enemy?"
"Something like that." She rolled her shoulders, but the ache between them wouldn't fade. "Remember, when you roll out the two pie crusts, make one larger, and the larger crust is the one that lines the pan."
"I know." He'd made that mistake while testing the recipe. It had been funny then. It would not be funny now. "I'm not an idiot."
"I didn't say that you were." Her chin jutted out, and without another word, she turned her attention to the items in front of her. The tension was so thick the sharpest knife couldn't cut through it.
Beside her, Xavier peeled apples in angry, fast strokes. At the rate he was going, he'd be finished well before the dough had a chance to chill. Either that or he could lose a few layers of skin to the blade.
She moved to the opposite side of the station and started combining ingredients for the second pie. The ricotta pie. His mother's recipe that he'd been so excited to use. Eggs, sugar, and vanilla. Ricotta cheese and chocolate chips. All combined and ready to be poured into a pastry shell.
Xavier focused on unrolling the refrigerated pie crust. He pressed it into the pie plate then pushed the plate toward her. She poured the batter into the crust.
Working around her, Xavier began laying the strips of dough across the top, creating a lattice pattern. She adjusted a few of them, making sure they were evenly spaced apart.
No smiles. No touches. No words of encouragement. They were like two strangers. If strangers were shooting off waves of anger.
She checked the dough in the fridge, taking a moment to peek at the other teams. Too many competing scents filled the room. She couldn't tell what the others were baking.
Hopefully, her mom's apple pie would be a hit.
When she returned to the workstation, Xavier held the rolling pin. She gestured for him to hand it over. "I think I should roll out the crust. You can cut the apples instead. Just try to keep the size of the slices relatively the same."
He crossed his arms over his chest, locking the pin in his hold. "I rolled it out when we made a pie at the bakery. You said I did a great job then, so why don't you want me to do it now?"
She set the dough on the counter and grabbed the other end of the pin. "Because I do this for a living and I need that pie crust to be perfect."
A single brow lifted and the corners of his mouth turned down. "And you don't trust me."
"I didn't say that." She pulled the pin toward her, but he didn't relinquish his hold. Instead, he tightened his grip and narrowed his eyes.
She grabbed hold with her other hand. And yanked hard. He didn't budge. "Let go."
The light of battle flashed in his gaze. "No."
She spoke through gritted teeth, "This isn't funny."
"I'm not laughing." He towered over her, nearly a foot taller. If he yanked it up and over his head, she'd never have a chance.
They both pulled in a ridiculous tug-of-war.
The cameraman wheeled into view, with Everson in tow. "Who says baking isn't a full-contact sport? Team Bliss Bakery, what's going on?"
Heat rushed into her face. The potentially millions of people who viewed this show were going to see her practically wrestling over a rolling pin. Embarrassed didn't even begin to cover how she felt. "This is silly."
Xavier's brow quirked again, and a muscle jumped in his jaw. "So, let go."
"Fine." She pushed the pin into his chest and turned her attention to the bowl of peeled apples. And the large knife. It flashed as it caught the overhead lights. She began cutting the apples into perfect slices. Each thwack! of her knife sounded louder than the last.
Xavier set up next to her. "You better be careful. We don't need you bleeding all over the apples. We don't have any extras."
"Oh, I'm fine." Thwack! Taking out her frustration on the apples helped. She slammed the knife on the table and set the tray of slices next to Xavier.
He rolled out his second crust. She flexed her wrists and fingers and bent to examine the first crust. Hovering a few inches over the counter, she inspected it for flaws and begrudgingly admitted to herself that he'd done a damn good job. "Not bad. Can you pass me the pie plate?"
The glass plate landed next to her with a bang, swiveling inches from her face. Ashley jumped back as the crowd gasped. "Hey, no need to throw it."
The rest of her annoyed retort disappeared at the pained expression on his face. "What happened?"
Clasping one hand over the other, he grimaced and drew his hands to his chest. "I'm fine."
She grabbed his arm. And her stomach rolled at the thin trickle of red. "You cut yourself? Let me see."
He pulled away, eyes somehow icy cold and yet burning with anger. "I'll handle it. Where are the towels?"
A medic rushed into their station and examined Xavier's hand. Ashley couldn't keep working, not until she knew the status. But the blood made her queasy. She focused on the medic's face. And then her words to Xavier. "It's not deep enough for stitches. We'll clean it and get you a bandage and a glove to wear."
"Good. Wouldn't want anything else to get in the way today."
Then she raised her gaze to Ashley. "You know, from the way you were chopping the apples, I figured you would be the one in need of my attention. In any case, be mindful of where you leave sharp objects in the future."
"Right. I will." Ashley nodded and turned away, thoroughly chastised. She mixed the apples with the sugar and cinnamon and berated herself for leaving the knife out and losing control of her temper.
Xavier joined her when she was in the middle of laying the apples in the pie plate in an even uniform pattern. One-handed, he helped her complete the task.
She risked a glance at his stormy expression. "I'm sorry I left the knife in a bad place."
He didn't crack even a semblance of a smile and returned his focus to the plate. "I should've paid better attention when I grabbed the plate."
She drizzled the apples with lemon juice, and Xavier followed, sprinkling in walnuts and raisins. Then Ashley carefully applied the top crust and used a fork to create an apple-shaped vent.
Once the pies were in the ovens, she dabbed her brow and set the timers. Xavier wiped down the counter, his movements stiff and stilted. They worked in silence, the tension between them still thick and uncomfortable. She stacked her mi
xing bowls then picked up the rolling pin and carefully wiped it with a clean cloth. Hopefully, she wouldn't have to bug Blackstone to return the borrowed rolling pin.
Food tasted better when it was made with love. The pies had been crafted through anger, hurt, and frustration.
She'd wanted Xavier to take the competition seriously. Maybe she'd been too harsh. But she'd been so worried.
Her stomach ached, and her head hurt, and her shoulders felt like she was laden down with one-hundred-pound sacks of flour.
The heat in the room intensified along with the noise from the crowd. Sweat beaded on her skin and Ashley took a deep breath to dispel the tightness in her chest. The walls were closing in on her. Pie crust promises, easily-made, easily-broken, were one thing. But having her future rest on the fate of a pie and a judge's opinion was quite another.
CHAPTER TEN
The cameramen kept circling their station like sharks observing prey. Xavier cleaned up the mess in front of him, doing his damned best to ignore them and Ashley.
What the hell had gotten into her?
He kept an eye on the timer. When it beeped, he grabbed the oven mitts. She thought he wasn't serious enough? He'd shown otherwise. They'd both been so damn serious, everyone else was giving them wide berth. His phone had vibrated a few times in his pocket, no doubt from Ryan observing the tension from the audience.
Oven mitts in place, he pulled the apple pie from the oven. A blast of heat greeted him and the scent of apples, cinnamon and nutmeg wafted out, conjuring up memories of the holidays. Pleased with the results, he set it on a cooling rack and removed the ricotta pie from the second oven. The lattice-pattern top crust was picture-perfect golden brown, and the white filling peeked through just like when Ashley had baked it during the practice run.
Hometown Hero Page 9
