“It’s all covered in water now, Meg,” one of the other judges said.
I grinned.
“Let’s call it a tie!” another judge decided.
“He didn’t even bake anything!”
“It’s all for fun,” I reminded Meg, shaking my head, the water dripping down my face.
There were chants from the drunks in the audience of “Hunter for mayor!” I pumped the flamethrower into the air to loud cheers.
“Good showing,” I told Meg, holding out my hand.
She glared at it. “You’re covered in soot and raw egg.”
“I assure you, Meg, the eggs are no longer raw.”
“Ugh.”
I reached out for her.
“Don’t touch me,” she warned. “You’re all wet.”
“No, you’re all wet.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Come out with me,” I said.
She glared at me. “I’m busy.”
“It’s Saturday. We just got done baking. Besides”—I smirked at her—“I want to eat some of your tiramisu.”
“It’s funny,” she said thoughtfully, “because one of my fantasies was eating tiramisu while I rode your cock.”
Shit.
“Hunter!” one of my brothers barked. It was Crawford.
Meg’s eyes lit up. “Ooh, who’s that?”
A slow grin spread over my half brother’s face. He jumped up onto the stage like a panther. He was wearing his leather motorcycle clothes, and Meg looked way too excited to see him.
“Do you know each other or something?” I asked.
“No,” Crawford drawled, “but I sure would like to.”
“Get away from her. She’s mine,” I snarled at him.
Crawford leveled his gaze at me. “You put potatoes in your fucking tiramisu.” He smiled at Meg. “You want someone who can give you an orgasm…”
I sucked in a breath.
“…Inducing dessert?” Crawford snickered. “Call me.”
“Don’t you dare try and steal her from me.”
“Relax,” my half brother said. “It’s obvious she has you right where she wants you—by the balls.”
