Page 25 of Serving Bunt

She pulled a phone out of pocket and turned it around to show off the lock screen, a photo of her, a hot, redheaded dude, and a chocolate-brown dachshund sandwiched between them.

“My fiancé, Bowie, is also a dachshund daddy," she explained, talking a mile a minute. "Her name is Banger, and she’s a menace to our vegetable garden. We should totally set up a doggy playdate sometime. You know, next time you’re in L.A.”

Matty managed a small, nervous laugh. “Sure. That’d be . . . fun.”

He made it sound like a fucking death sentence.

My attention drifted to the third set of competitors, Colt and Mila Yang. They were quietly bickering on the other side of Matty while the makeup team touched up Mila’s lipstick.

Typical sibling dynamic.

Colt was tall and lean with shoulder-length, black hair he had tied back into a messy half-bun. Between the hair and the leather cuffs circling his wrists, he had that classic, effortless vibe that screamed “rock star.”

His sister was shorter but no less striking. Sharp cheekbones, blunt bangs, and winged eyeliner sharp enough to cut glass. From what I had learned during last night’s welcome dinner, Mila was an internet personality, one who had skyrocketed to fame with her makeup tutorials and bad dating stories.

I had a feeling they were either going to be our biggest competition . . . or the ones who burned the place down.

“Sixty seconds to places.”

We were all still lined up at the front of the barn, standing shoulder to shoulder mere feet from the judges’ table. Matty was ramrod straight beside me, his jaw clenched so hard I was surprised he hadn’t cracked a molar.

I hadn’t seen him wound this tight since our last trip to the World Series.

“Breathe, Alabama,” I whispered, keeping my voice low.

His eyes flicked toward me. “I’m fine.”

“It’s cookies, mi pana. Not the fucking firing squad.”

He let out a short, frustrated sigh. “I’m nervous, okay? I don’t want to mess up and embarrass the team. And you—” He cut himself off, shaking his head. “It doesn’t help that you’re just standing there, cool as a cucumber. Some of us can’t just charm our way through everything.”

I felt the smile slip off my face before I could stop it.

For a second, I couldn’t even breathe right. That one hurt more than expected, mostly because there was some truth to his words. I did charm my way out of a lot of shit.

It was easier than letting people see the real me.

Before I could come up with a response, the lights flared back to full power.

“And we’re back in three . . . two . . . one.”

Penelope lit up like a Christmas tree.

“And just like that, it’s time for our first challenge—the Naughty and Nice Bite. Each team must create at least two different kinds of cookies and two dozen cookies in total. On top of that, your cookies must be served up in an exquisite gift box made entirely of, you guessed it, cookie.”

“We’ll be looking for variety and personality,” Keira added. “Your presentation should look like something you’d be proud to serve up this holiday season.”

“Thank you, Keira.” It took everything in me to remain calm when Penelope’s eyes landed on me. “What do you say, boys? Think you can knock this one out of the ballpark?”

The camera swung in our direction. I flashed a sideways smile, the one I usually saved for post-game interviews.

“Si, Penelope. My teammate here wants to play it safe with his grandmother’s award-winning recipes, but thankfully, he has me to add a little bit of spice to every bite.”

Matty shot me a look. “Not everyone likes spice, Peter.”

My smile grew when he all but spat out my name.

“Then they don’t know what they’re missing,” I told him, punctuating it with a wink for the camera.