“Got it.”
The next hour passed in a tense silence as they chopped apples, walnuts, and dates for an apple chutney. As Zach gave the mixture a quick cook on the stove, she took the opportunity to write down a few things for her article. Her readers would eat up the details of the sights and especially smells of the day. From Enrique Perez’s direction, she caught the distinct smell of hot peppers. Her eyes watered even from this distance. How couldhe stand to be working directly with them? A question to ask him later.
She now knew that the chef next to them was Alicia from Alicia’s Kitchen. The short blonde was standing around, chatting with her partner and a few festival goers. Her bright pink apron, adorned with delicate white embroidered hearts, swung gently as she moved. Alicia held a clean spoon and seemed to be using it to illustrate the story she was telling.
“Chef Alicia, what are you making?” Hopefully she wasn’t interrupting, but she needed to get a few quotes for her article. “It smells amazing.” Underneath the spicy peppers permeating the tent, she could smell the piquant scent of olives and chicken wafting over from Alicia’s station.
Alicia turned a bright smile toward her. “It’s a family recipe. Every generation makes it a little bit different in order to claim it as our own. I call it Sweetheart Chicken because I fixed this dish for my first date with the man who would become my husband.” Alicia pointed toward the dish with the spoon in her hand. “Next thing I knew, he was my sweetheart. Now I make it for our anniversary every year.”
“Aw, that’s the cutest story. I love that. Thank you for sharing it with me.” She wrote furiously. “Do you mind if I quote you?”
“Go right ahead. I love telling that story. Just don’t ask me for the recipe.” Alicia gave her a wink before turning back to her partner.
Ava began sketching out the essence of her article. She glanced at her phone. Only a few more minutes before the last push of the contest.
When the timer for the oven beeped, she took a deep breath. It wasn’t enough to loosen the band around her chest.
Zach drew the pasties out of the oven. His groan told the tale. He thumped the pan next to her. An acrid scent rose from the baked goods.
“Over half of these leaked.” He grunted.
The gravy from the leaky meat pies had soaked into their neighbors, the shallower pools of it looking charred and smoky.
“Can we save any of them?”
“I’m going to try.” He pointed a spatula at the bowl of chutney. “We have exactly three minutes to get those into bowls and plated with these.”
A stack of ramekins waited for her to fill with the sweet side dish. She spooned mounds of the warm apple dish into each one. The spicy hint of cinnamon and cloves rose up around her.
At thirty seconds, the crowd began counting down. She chanced a quick look around. The teams near them also looked frantic, their hands moving in a blur. Only one team stood still, already having finished.
“Ava, focus.” Zach’s bark made her heart leap.
At the five-second mark, she placed the last ramekin of chutney on the last plate. In her rush, she spilled some out the top. Too late now.
“Hands up, contestants.” Seb Jonathon’s voice came over the loudspeaker. “We’ll be coming around to judge your dishes in a moment.”
She tried to catch Zach’s eye, but he engaged in conversation with some bystanders. She walked up next to him and waited for him to acknowledge her.
“Good job, chef,” the bystander, a woman Ava didn’t recognize, said.
“Oh, I’m not a chef,” she said. “Zach here is the one with training. I just follow orders.”
“Sometimes,” he muttered.
“Excuse me?”
“Nothing.” He tipped his head at her. A quick nod. “We made it through.” The woman wandered off. Probably picked up on the vibe.
Why was he being so weird? Sure, they’d had a rough time, but that didn’t excuse his behavior.
“Good job, Zach.” Maybe if she reached out she could figure out what was going on. “I can’t believe we pulled that off.”
He gave her his full attention then, his gaze hard into hers for a moment. “Yep. We sure did.”
Where was the tender man from last night? “Have I done something wrong?”
He opened his mouth to answer, but just then the judges made it to their table.
