“Completely.”
Tricia snaps a photo of us laughing. “This is going on the socials. You’re both gold.”
Then she waves and disappears into the twilight.
Silence settles over the shack again. The air between us feels… different. Softer.
“Congratulations,” I say finally.
“Thank you.” She tilts her head. “You’re taking your defeat well.”
“I’m a gracious loser.”
She raises an eyebrow. “You don’t seem like a gracious anything.”
I lean against the counter. “You haven’t seen all my sides.”
Her laugh catches in her throat. For a beat, neither of us moves. The quiet hums with something electric.
Then I clear my throat. “I owe you a drink.”
She blinks. “What?”
“The deal. The bet. Winner gets bragging rights and a favor. So let’s start with a drink instead. You earned it.”
Her lips curve into a smile I feel in my stomach. “At your place?”
“Unless you plan to bake somewhere else.”
She hesitates just long enough for me to second-guess asking. Then she nods. “Sure. One drink. For professional debriefing purposes.”
“Of course.”
She pulls her hair out of its bun, letting it fall loose, and for a second I forget how to speak.
“Lead the way, Chef,” she says.
The drive to my cabin takes less than five minutes, but my pulse is racing as if I’ve run a marathon.
Katelyn steps inside and exhales. “This is… cozy.”
“That’s a nice way of saying small.”
“It’s a nice way of saying it suits you.”
“Meaning?”
“There’s no nonsense. It’s orderly.” She glances over her shoulder, smiling. “But there’s warmth underneath and a healthy dash of creativity.”
“Do you analyze everyone like that?”
“Only the ones worth figuring out.”
Her voice is light, but something in it makes me turn. She’s standing by the window, looking out toward the farm. The lights from the patch reflect in her eyes.
“You really care about the patch,” she says quietly.
“I grew up there. Every fence post, every nail, I’ve touched it. So yeah.”
