“Hungry, I guess. I forgot to eat this morning.”
“That’s an easy fix. I heard the student’s union has a food sale in the gym. I’ll go grab us a bite to eat and some coffee. I won’t be long.”
“How did I miss hearing that?”
“You’re so focused. You didn’t even jump when team three dropped a cookie sheet and the baked cookies exploded everywhere. Back in a jiff.”
Mrs. L. wandered into their kitchen. “How’s things?” she asked, a sly look on her face.
“Good?” Poppy raised one eyebrow in question. “Why?”
“Not with the contest, silly girl. With that glorious hunk of man. He’s stunning. I wouldn’t mind a piece of that cookie myself.” She winked lewdly.
Poppy laughed. “There’s nothing between us besides the contest. We’re partners and friends.”
“Right,” she drew the word into three long syllables. “Keep telling yourself that. Darius looks at you like you’re a pizza and he hasn’t eaten in a year.”
“Mrs. L., you’re imagining things.”
“No, she’s not,” Darius said from behind Poppy.
She squeaked and dropped the rolling pin with a thud.
“I could eat you up,” he whispered in her ear. “But first, I need to feed you before it’s our turn with the news crew. You can’t give an interview if you’re hangry.”
“A what?”
“Close your mouth,” Darius teased. “Weren’t you listening to the mayor? Every team gets interviewed for the news. We’re up soon.”
“An interview? Since when? I can’t do an interview. I have cookies to bake.” How in the world would she handle baking if she was half distracted?
“Relax. It’ll be easy. They want to talk about your motivation for entering and a bit about who you are. I’m sure you know those things, right?”
She nodded weakly. How in the world could she share that her motivation was greed? She needed that money. This was supposed to be a fun competition in the Christmas spirit. Great, now she had to make up a lie about why she entered.
“Eat,” Darius urged, handing her a tray with a steaming cheeseburger and fries on it. “We’ll worry about the interview later.”
They ate quickly, the food perking up Poppy’s energy levels, yet still sitting heavily atop her worry about confessing her motivation for entering.
It wasn’t just about community spirit and competition. She adored how the contest raised money for the women’s shelter through silent auctions and entry fees. The gym also held a craft sale all weekend with table rentals going to the shelter. She loved that aspect of it. Last year, she’d spent a bundle at that sale. This year, she was feeling guilty for her greed.
“What’s eating you?” Darius said lowly. “You look green and you haven’t said a word in ten minutes.”
“Nothing. I’m fine.” How could she possibly admit the guilt in her heart?
“You’re not fine. You’re worried about the interview. Don’t be. Everyone in town knows you. You’ve got nothing to fear.”
She swallowed hard. He was so supportive and caring. Maybe he could help. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. “How can I tell them I entered for the money?” she whispered. “I need a new oven. It’ll take years to save enough for another one. My primary oven died.” She looked at the floor. “How can I confess greed in the season of giving? It’s not who I am,” she said morosely. “And yet, this year, it is.”
