“Her twin is also Liza Minnelli. It’s a family name.”
The corner of his mouth moved again. This time I caught the smile. Tiny. Irritating. Attractive enough to make me want to bite something, preferably not on camera.
Caprice came back toward us, phone clutched in both hands. “Sponsor loves it.”
“No, they don’t,” I said.
“They love it. They’re adding prize money.”
Flint’s head turned. “Prize money?”
Caprice’s smile went bright enough to power the camper. “Twenty-five thousand dollars.”
The meadow went quiet again.
Even I stopped dripping with attitude for half a second.
Caprice pointed first at me, then at Flint. “Three rounds. Filmed over the weekend. Gourmet versus old-school. Safe fire setup. Correct permit zone. Winner takes twenty-five thousand.”
Joelle cleared her throat. “Or the prize structure can be adjusted if the sponsor wants goodwill.”
Caprice nodded fast. “Details flexible. Drama essential.”
Flint shifted his attention toward the drenched fire pit, the dry grass beyond it, and the pines waiting in the heat. “If this happens, I approve the fire setup.”
Caprice beamed. “Wonderful.”
“I didn’t agree.”
“But you negotiated.”
His jaw flexed.
I crossed my arms. The wet apron made an unfortunate squelch. “I also didn’t agree.”
Caprice looked at my ruined table, then at me. “Sunny, sweetheart. This salvages the campaign. It pays if you win. It gives the sponsor a bigger arc. It lets you prove your food isn’t just pretty.”
Pretty landed where it always landed, right between cute, adorable, and fun.
I looked at the flooded cones, the red berries bleeding into the mud, the camper with my name on it, the camera still aimed my way, and the man who’d blasted my day apart.
Fine.
If Flint Sparks wanted to stand there with his scarred forearm and his practical boots and his deeply annoying competence, I’d stand right back. In safer shoes tomorrow, but I’d stand right back.
I lifted my chin. “Round One is s’mores?”
Caprice’s smile returned. “Yes.”
Flint looked at me. “You sure you want to start with the classic?”
I smiled sweetly enough to make my own teeth hurt. “I’m sure you want me to be worried about it.”
“I know how to toast a marshmallow.”
“That’s precious.”
His eyes narrowed. “You don’t think that matters?”
