I looked at her. “They’ll match it?”
Caprice nodded. “They’ll match it. Apparently, not burning down the mountain is excellent brand alignment.”
Sunny’s laugh broke first, shaky and bright. She pressed both hands to her mouth, then dropped them and looked at me.
“You tied me,” she said.
“You tied me.”
“I didn’t lose.”
“I didn’t lose either.”
Her eyes shone in the low sun. “You sound relieved.”
“I’m relieved.”
That was true.
It also wasn’t enough.
Caprice aimed her clipboard at us. “The sponsor wants a follow-up feature. Working concept: Sunny and Flint builda recurring Fire Mountain summer-night pop-up. Gourmet campfire food, old-school fire knowledge, safe setup, big scenery, no accidental dairy floods unless contractually necessary.”
“No dairy floods,” Sunny and I said together.
Ed lowered the camera just enough to look at us over it. “That sounded planned.”
“It wasn’t,” Sunny said.
“It should’ve been,” Caprice said. “That was usable.”
Joelle’s smile came small and satisfied. “So the collaboration is official?”
Sunny looked at me.
This was the point where a smarter man would say something careful and easy, maybe something about business, camera schedules, and prize money.
I’d spent most of my life respecting fire because the thing you didn’t say in time could get away from you.
I pulled the apron over my head and set it on my station.
“The pop-up matters,” I said. “The safety money matters. The feature matters too, if Sunny wants it.”
Caprice’s face sharpened. “Great. I’ll tell the sponsor—”
“I’m not finished.”
The whole crew went still.
Sunny’s throat moved.
I stepped around the tasting table, stopping close enough to reach her but not touching her yet, not with cameras up and not until she chose it where everyone could see.
“I was trying to win,” I said.
Sunny’s eyes held mine. “I figured.”
“Part of me was rooting for you too.”
