"A taste of what's going to happen," I told her after releasing her. Milo was whining; I knew he wanted to go out.
Chloe left in a daze. I knew she wanted me, and that was enough for now. I could wait.
I still wished I had seen her in that lingerie. Her Pinterest was public, and I scrolled through the images while Milo ran around in the park, making note of the items I thought she might like.
33
Chloe
"You need to stay away from Jack," Hartleigh said to me when I walked into the apartment.
"I'm in a rush," I told her, "and I can't deal with your hysterics right now."
She grabbed my upper arm, her nails digging into my skin. "I know you were up there with him. I waited up to see if you would come back to the apartment, and you didn't. Admit where you were! You're trying to steal him from me."
I yanked my arm away from her. "Jack said you have been stalking him and that he doesn’t even like you. In fact, he despises you."
"That isn't true.We are soulmates. We're meant to be together, and he would see the truth if you weren't trying to steal him from me," Hartleigh said, her face screwed up in fury.
"I'm late for the contest," I told her. "I need to change."
I quickly showered but didn't have a chance to dry my hair properly. I wound it into a bun and ran downstairs. I slid behind my workstation and put on my apron just in time. Dana gave me a look.
"Sorry," I mouthed.
I wasn't the last person to enter the room, though. Jack sauntered in, cup of cold green tea in his hand. Despite our steamy session this morning, he looked cool as ice.
"We all want Christmas dinner to be perfect," Anastasia began. "And what more to demonstrate what a perfect host or hostess you are than to create a perfectly executed dessert? That's why this next task is the technically perfect holiday challenge. As you can see, we're starting very early today. You have until this evening to bake. We want to see your most impressive desserts."
As Anastasia went around to start talking to the remaining contestants, Hartleigh came over to my workstation, her face screwed up in anger and jealousy.
"Jack is just using you because you're an easy lay," she sniped at me as I gathered my ingredients. "He is my future husband. Our parents want us to be together."
"Go back to your own station," Nina yelled at her.
I had to put Hartleigh out of my head. To me, the technically perfect holiday challenge meant French pastries, and nothing was more difficult than macarons.
I was making holiday-inspired macarons. To make the dessert impressive enough to win the competition, I would need to make an array of flavors, which meant I needed to have separate batters and fillings for each flavor. It was good we had the majority of the day, because executing each step perfectly was going to take a while.
For the flavors, I decided on several different fruity macarons, including cranberry, spiced orange, and apple cider. In addition, I would make chocolate macarons, peppermint bark, vanilla bean, eggnog, ginger, and salted caramel. I made a mental note of everything I needed and grabbed ingredients. I couldn't rush macarons; everything had to be exact.
As I worked, Zane came over to take close-ups. Because I had so many different-colored shells, I had to make separate batter for each macaron shell. After sifting the almond flour and the powdered sugar to make sure there weren’t any coarse bits, I weighed each dry ingredient carefully. If the weight was off by even a fraction of a gram, it could undermine the integrity of the macaron.
Before I started the wet ingredients, I made sure my parchment paper was perfectly flat and laid out. I didn't need a template. I could make perfect circles with my eyes closed.
The next step had to be executed flawlessly. The day before I had left my egg whites in the fridge to age, since Anastasia had let us know what the challenge was ahead of time.
I started to beat the egg whites. They were frothy, but to my eye they looked a little odd. I started to add the sugar, hoping they would form the glossy, stiff peaks I needed. I beat and beat. The egg whites would not stiffen. Nina looked over.
"What's wrong with them?" I asked in a panic. "I can make meringue, but this stuff in my bowl is the consistency of cheap marshmallow fluff."
Nina came over to inspect the bowl. "These are definitely not the dramatic glossy peaks of good meringue," she said.
"What's wrong with them?" I wailed, looking at the clock. Today, time seemed to be flying by.
"Did you use aged egg whites?"
"They are. I let them set overnight."
