Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Chalk it up to another poorly thought-out decision. Ava tapped her pen on the legal pad she held. Did she really agree to compete in the charity contest with Zach? Yesterday had been a roller coaster with him, and in the waning light of a Sunday afternoon, Ava wasn’t sure anymore.
She needed to win that contest. Being able to include the event in her articles would be a unique angle. They would have to learn to work together somehow.
Ava sat at a picnic table near the contest pavilion.
Around her, the crowd that had gathered for the chili cook-off dispersed throughout the festival grounds.
The setting sun cast long rays, coloring everything around her rosy gold.
The smell of cooking oil lingered in the air. And did she smell popcorn?
She jotted down “popcorn” on her pad. The list she’d been making all day in between interviewing the chili contestants now read:
Fruit
Umami
Fat and salt
Buy Kleenex
Donuts
Rosemary
Popcorn
A jumbled list of random thoughts for picking out a dish for the competition. Oh, and an addition to her grocery list.
If only she could add “agreeable partner” to that list. Her shoulders slumped. Every interaction with Zach seemed fraught with misunderstandings. But they did promise to start over. Maybe it was time for her to make good on that promise.
She wandered toward the contest tent. Zach was in the spot where he had competed the day before. He hadn’t competed in the chili competition, but he was here anyway, bent over, running a rag across the workbench. Huh. Generous with his time, even when he didn’t need to be.
“I’m pretty sure they have people for that,” Ava said. She leaned her hip against the table.
“I told Dani I could help out. She seemed tired, so I sent her and the others home after the chili cook-off. She hasn’t spent much time with her new husband this week, and I don’t mind cleaning up.” Zach ran the wet cloth over the door of the tiny oven.
Ava spotted a bucket of soapy water, a second washrag hanging on the side. She picked up the rag, wrung it out, and began wiping down the other workstation. “Do you think they’ll assign us this same space?”
He glanced at her, then back at the oven. “Maybe we can put in a good word with Dani. It would be nice to work in a space I’m already familiar with. As long as no one considers it cheating.”
“I think we’ll be fine. I didn’t see anything about that in the judges’ handbook.
” Look at that. Several sentences in a row, and no one was fighting.
It was like a miracle. “Good effort yesterday. I really liked your peach tart.” She gave the table one last swipe. “Anything else need to be wiped down?”
“I think we’re good. Thanks for your help. And your compliment.” He dumped the bucket of soapy water onto the grass behind his station. “Are you heading back to the hotel? I’ll walk you.”
Ava blinked twice. Chivalrous Zach was new. “I thought I’d find the source of that delicious popcorn smell.”
“Yeah, it’s been tantalizing me too. I think Pop’s Corn from Port Joseph has that booth. Follow me.”
She hurried to keep up with him as they wove through the crowd. He stopped in front of a booth piled high with popcorn buckets. Along the back of the booth, popcorn machines held popcorn in all the colors of the rainbow.
“Two triple threats,” he said to the teenager working the booth and handed her some cash.
“I can pay for my own,” Ava said. “Wouldn’t want anyone to accuse me of taking a bribe.”
He grinned at her and her breath caught. “Nah, we’re partners now, right?”
Right. Partners. And somehow, being partners with Zach Sullivan suddenly didn’t seem too outlandish.
A few minutes later, they walked down the line of food booths. Ava clutched the warm bucket of popcorn to her chest. The scent of cheese, caramel, and butter drifted up from the three sections in the container.
“What are you doing?” The shocked tone of Zach’s voice caused Ava to lose her grip on the popcorn pieces she held in her fingers. They fell to the trampled ground. Food for the birds now.
“What? What’s wrong?” Her heart rate picked up.
“That’s not how you eat a triple threat.
” Zach plucked one piece of popcorn from each section of the bucket and popped them all into his mouth at the same time.
“The only way to eat it is by mingling the cheese, butter, and caramel.” He closed his eyes as he chewed.
“Mmm. Yep. Amazing.” He cracked one eye open. “Try it. You’ll see.”
She obediently took one of each flavor and popped them into her mouth.
“Oh! That’s good.” The flavors blended effortlessly.
Cheese complemented the sweet caramel, and the butter flavor tied it all together.
A few steps more brought them to the tables situated at the back of the hotel. “Want to sit?”
He nodded, then took a seat next to her.
“I saw a picture of you in the hall outside my room.”
“The one with all my siblings?”
“That’s the one.” She tossed a few more popcorn pieces into her mouth. “You were all in front of the hotel.”
He shot her a rueful smile. “I was like nineteen in that picture. Definitely going through an awkward phase.”
A laugh burst out of her. “If that was awkward…” The deep, brooding look he wore in the photograph flashed into her mind. “You were quite intense.”
“I thought that I was doing a smolder, but really I just look constipated.” He chuckled.
“You looked pretty good to me. I bet all the girls thought so too.” Rats. Had that been out loud?
He barked a laugh. “I’m sorry, Ava, did you just call me good-looking?”
“Nah. Just that you had a few good years out of high school. Not all of us are that lucky.” Wait.
Was she flirting with Zach, the king of arrogance?
Except, today he didn’t seem arrogant. Just confident.
And funny. Plus, he’d been a gracious loser in the contest even though she knew it was important to him.
“Eh. I bet you were fine.” Zach tossed some popcorn into his mouth.
She raised an eyebrow. “Do you mean fine”—she tipped her hand back and forth in a so-so gesture—“or fine?”—and waggled both her brows.
“I plead the fifth.”
She laughed, then attempted to mimic Frodo from The Lord of the Rings. “All right, then, keep your secrets.”
“What’s on the notepad?” He jutted his chin at her legal pad.
“I made a few notes. I thought we should talk about our dish for the competition.” She thought about his dishes from the day. Silly girl. Like she could contribute anything. “Of course, you’re probably in a much better position to pick something out.”
“I’d love to know what you have.” He reached for the paper, but she held it back.
“Um, maybe I should just read it to you.” Much safer that way. He nodded, then leaned his elbows against the table and closed his eyes. “What are you doing?”
“I’m listening and imagining.”
Wow. This guy was full of surprises. “Okay. It’s not like a big revelation or something.”
“Ava,” he said, eyes still closed. “Just read it to me.”
She did. Her voice grew stronger as she read off each item, skipping the Kleenex, of course. At every word, he nodded. A ghost of a smile began on his face until, by the end of her list, it was in full bloom.
She cleared her throat. “That’s it.”
He remained still for another moment, then opened his eyes and turned to her. “That’s a pretty good start.”
“It is?” She rolled the pen between her fingers. “It’s not really a recipe or even an idea for a specific dish—”
He held up a hand. “No, but it definitely invokes a feeling of a dish.”
“A feeling of a dish?” She smirked. “Are you on the Cooking Channel or something? The Philosophy of Cooking with Zach Sullivan.”
“Har har. I’m just saying, you could be really good at this if you let yourself try. You could be a chef instead of just critiquing everyone else’s work.”
And it should have felt like a dig, but his quiet confidence actually inspired something that felt more like pride. She loved her review job, but she would be lying if she didn’t acknowledge the desire once in a while to make something delicious on her own.
“Thanks.”
“Being a chef requires creativity. It’s like art with food. You’re creative, so we just need to figure out how to translate that into something edible.” He rubbed at his chin.
“Ha. I don’t know. It might take a miracle.”
“Let’s try something.” He took the pen and paper out of her hands and set them on the table. “Close your eyes.”
“O-ka-ay.” She drew the word into three syllables.
“Just trust me. I’ll close mine too.”
She complied.
“Now, tell me about the best thing you ever ate.”
She didn’t have to think about it long. “Malfatti with browned butter and sage. I didn’t even need to close my eyes for that.
” Malfatti, an Italian sort of pasta, sort of dumpling made from ricotta cheese and just a tiny bit of flour, then finished off in a pan of browned butter. Her breath hitched at the memory.
“No. Keep them closed.” He covered her hands with his and her pulse leaped. “Tell me more about the dish. Why were you eating it? Where were you? Who were you with?”
In an instant she was back there. “It was the night of my high school graduation. Both of my parents were home. They wanted to make me something special to celebrate, so they made this malfatti. My mother had learned the recipe from a woman she had met in Tuscany. Mom had been so excited to show Dad what she’d learned.
” Her heart seized. They’d never been that excited to see her.
“I remember my parents laughing in the kitchen as they worked together.” A tear trickled down her face and she pulled her hands away to swipe at it.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
“Not your fault.” She opened her eyes and cleared her throat. “It’s just a bittersweet memory for me.”
His gaze roamed her face. “Want to talk about it?”