Flint stepped just close enough to lower his voice. “Enjoy the win while it lasts.”
“Oh, I plan to enjoy every second.”
“Round Three won’t be hot dogs.”
“That’s good, because I’d hate to beat you twice with a bun.”
The end of my apron tie slipped loose and drooped toward the mustard tray. Flint caught it before it landed.
His knuckles brushed my wrist. Brief. Practical. Absolutely devastating.
“That is an equipment hazard,” he said.
“Careful, Sparks. People might think you’re helping.”
“I am helping.”
“You usually lecture while helping.”
“I’m trying something new.”
“Growth looks good on you.”
He released the apron tie. “Winning looks good on you too.”
My chest went warm in a way that had nothing to do with the sun.
Caprice clapped. “Everyone, take your places. Sunny, give me the victory wrap. Flint, if this turns into another argument, do it in frame or stop wasting my light.”
I grabbed my mustard bottle from the table and held it like a microphone for Ed’s camera. “Round Two is mine. Tomorrow, Flint Sparks can bring his cast iron, his coals, and every old-school trick on Fire Mountain. Whatever Caprice throws at us, I’m still coming for the whole cook-off.”
Flint crossed his arms. “Cast iron and coals are not tricks.”
“You’re right,” I said, turning toward him. “They’re your emotional support cookware.”
Ed wheezed.
Caprice pointed at him. “Keep rolling.”
I faced Flint fully. “Round Three is mine.”
His eyes held mine, bright with challenge. “Then prove it.”
The meadow seemed too bright for a moment, too hot, too full of smoke and sugar and the space between us. I’d won Round Two. The score was tied. The cameras had what they needed.
But Flint stood close enough that I had to remember where my hands belonged, and victory suddenly felt like the easy part.
I lifted my chin.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said.
His smile finally showed itself, small and dangerous to my common sense.
“I’ll be there,” Flint said.
Caprice groaned behind us. “This is great. You two are having a stare-down over tomorrow, which is almost useful if Ed can keep his battery alive.”
Ed lowered the camera. “The battery isn’t the problem.”
