“You’d do that?” His eyes are shining.
“Of course. I like Callie. We’ve stayed friends since you left.”
“What?” The shine in his eyes is gone as they narrow.
“It’s nothing more than averyplatonic friendship. Don’t worry. I think we trauma-bonded a little over you leaving.” I meant it as a joke, but the look of horror on Charlie’s face shows it didn’t land well. I guess I should shut up now.
He finishes placing cookies on the first parchment paper–lined sheet, and swivels from the counter to put them in the oven.
I thrust an arm into his chest. “How about I put them in? Wouldn’t want you forgetting to set a timer. We can’t overbake these if we are going to beat the girls. They have Callie’s baking skills and feminine charm on their side.”
He squints at me like I spoke to him in a foreign language. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“In case you missed it, three-fourths of the judges’ panel is made up of women. You know when your sister does something, and you’re just likewhat the hell?” He immediately nods. “Well, the only one who’s going to be thinking that with us is your dad. The rest of the panel will be wrapped around their finger because they’ll just get it.”
He purses his lips. “Shit.”
“Yeah.” I take the cookies and move toward the oven. Lauren is also heading that way, and when her gaze meets mine, she presses her lips together to blow me a kiss. I bite my lip, trying to hide my smile, and trip over my own damn feet. The cookies go flying off the tray and onto the floor.
“What are you doing?” Charlie shouts, his voice strained. He’s never done well with competition.
Lauren slips her cookies into the oven and then crouches down to the floor to help me pick up my mess. “It’s okay. I’ll help him.”
“No way.” Charlie inserts himself between us. “He doesn’t need help from the enemy.”
“Chill out, Char. I’m not going to sabotage your cookies.” Lauren plucks a few off the floor. “They already need to be thrown in the garbage.”
“They might not be. The judges didn’t see them on the floor. Throw ’em in there. The oven will kill any germs.”
Rhett moves into the scene. “Those are not going into the oven. Throw them away. We have plenty of dough, and I can make a half batch in less than five minutes if we need to.”
“Fine.” Charlie crosses his arms, pouting like a five-year-old as he stomps back to our station.
Lauren dumps a handful of broken trees on the baking sheet where I’ve been collecting them.
“I see you’re trying to get in my head,” I note quietly.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She continues picking at the floor, gathering up every last crumb.
“I’m going to report you for sabotage. You can’t distract me like that. You know I’m a complete fool for you.”
She bites her lip as her cheeks flush. “You know I love to hear that, but I didn’t do anything.”
“Yes, you did. You did it on purpose.”
“Even if I did, you can’t report me to the judges. How would you explain it to them?”
She’s got me there.
“You’re the devil.” I get up from my spot crouched on the floor.
“No, I’m a perfect angel, remember?”
Lauren bats her eyes, looking way too satisfied with herself.I’ll show her. She wants to play? Game on.
I dump the cookies in the garbage before retreating to our spot at the counter. Charlie has almost filled another cookie sheet already.
“Please tell me you saw what they’re making?” Charlie says when I join them.
