Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
He’d fallen short. Again.
“This gravy has lumps,” Anne Green said. The short chef poked at a piece of the pasty on her plate. “It’s got good flavor, but some of the liquid has leaked out, and now my pasty is soggy.”
“That’s better than mine,” Paul Hawkeye said.
He looked at Zach. “One edge of mine is burnt. The leaked gravy burned this part here.” He speared the offending piece of crust and set it to the side.
Leaning slightly away, he crossed his arms, his biceps bulging.
“I understand you had some trouble with your oven?”
“Yes, Chef.” Zach tried to keep his tone upbeat. This was no time for excuses. “Someone unplugged it, and we didn’t notice until we tried to bake the pasties. I bumped the temp up a little to try to regain some ground.” His stomach churned.
Ava stood at his side. He could feel the tension rolling off her. He should reach out and take her hand. It was right there. But he couldn’t get himself to cross the distance.
“Hmm. Risky. It might have worked if your gravy hadn’t leaked. Too bad.” Paul tasted some of the chutney. “This is good. But unnecessary. A pasty is a meal on its own.”
“I’m not sure about the rosemary in here.
Very…unique,” Martha Kelley said. Zach’s heart sank.
Unique was Midwest code for not good. “And personally, I’d like to see more meat in these pies.
Did you cheap out?” Beside him, Ava gasped.
She opened her mouth to speak. Not a good idea.
He grabbed her wrist. She rightly took that as a signal to remain silent.
There was no use in defending themselves. The judges were right.
The dough was soggy.
The edges were burnt.
There wasn’t enough meat.
The chutney was an extra flair, just there to show off.
And it had all flopped.
His heartbeat thrummed in his ears as the judges moved off to finish their critiques. Ava tried to talk to him again, but he couldn’t bring himself to hear her pity.
A few minutes later, they waited in front of the stage in the center of the cooking tent.
Uncle Seb stood at the microphone, holding a paper in his hand.
“In first place,” Uncle Seb said, “Enrique Perez from Fiesta and his partner, Lottie Holmes. Chefs Perez and Holmes have named Second Harvest as their charity.” The crowd erupted into cheers.
Uncle Seb held up his hand for quiet. “The contest committee will be sending them twenty thousand dollars. Many thanks to the sponsors for their donations to the prize money. In addition, Chef Paul and Chef Anne also pledged to donate an extra five thousand dollars, bringing the total to thirty.”
Thirty thousand? The Silver Platter could have made good use of that money. Zach’s failure pressed his heart into his stomach.
Uncle Seb read off the other winners, and he and Ava had taken third. He’d never make it to the top if he was always being held back. He spun on his heel and began weaving through the crowd to get back to clean his kitchen. He felt Ava fall into step behind him.
“Zach.”
He couldn’t turn and face her. He didn’t know what would come out of his mouth.
“Zach.” They’d reached their own space now. The roar of the crowd surrounded him, but he tuned it out. He bent down and grabbed the bucket of soapy water under the table, moving it up.
Ava hovered at his elbow, but he still couldn’t look at her.
“I need to write down a few thoughts for my article, but then I want to talk to you.” Ava moved past him.
Her words turned his blood into shards of ice. He rounded on her. “Your article?” His teeth clenched so hard his jaw ached.
Her eyes went wide. “I just had a couple of thoughts, and I don’t want to forget them. My editor will need this article before the end of the day.”
“Sure. We definitely wouldn’t want you to forget anything about this day. We certainly don’t want you to publish false information. At least not on purpose.” He let the arrows fly and watched as the words hit the mark.
Her face darkened. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you today, but I think there’s been some misunderstanding.” She picked up a notebook and pen.
Seriously, did she have those things stashed everywhere? Was she writing her article when she should have been concentrating on helping them win?
“I’ll just be a minute.”
A surge of anger threatened to swamp him. The sight of the notebook clicked something into place. A nagging suspicion at the back of his mind pushed its way out of his mouth.
“Did you do this?” His stomach boiled with acid.
Her head snapped up. “What?”
“Did you tank our chances in order to have a more interesting article for the paper? A way to land your dream job by sacrificing mine?” The thought made a lot of sense. “Or maybe you had to throw the game because it wouldn’t be believable for you to win.”
Ava’s mouth made an O.
“That’s it, isn’t it? You made us lose on purpose.”
“I’m sorry?” She put her hand to her hip. “I’m super confused. Just how exactly do you think I could throw the game?”
“Oh, let’s see. You started a sing-along instead of concentrating on cooking.
” He began ticking the evidence off on his fingers.
“You ran off in the middle of making the roux—to help our competitors, no less—completely ruining the dish. No.” He held up a hand to silence whatever she was about to say.
“You’re right. It was already ruined. Your pasties leaked everywhere.
You keep writing in that notebook instead of concentrating.
I wouldn’t be surprised if you unplugged the oven too.
” He couldn’t believe he hadn’t suspected earlier.
He’d been so distracted by their fun evening the night before, he hadn’t thought Ava could be this calculating.
“Did you hit your head as a child?” Her eyes blazed fire.
He crossed his arms. “What kind of question is that?”
“Do you realize how insane you sound right now? Accusing me of all of these wild actions.” She threw her arms in the air. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“Just answer the question.” His jaw cracked. He narrowed his eyes at her. “Did you sabotage this contest?”
“Sabotage,” she sputtered. “I thought you were different. I thought you weren’t as arrogant as I’ve believed all these years. But you are proving me wrong.”
“Just because I’m good at my job doesn’t make me arrogant.
Just because I’m more confident in the kitchen than you doesn’t make me prideful.
” Scorn laced his every word. He heard his words and tried to pull them back, but the pain of her betrayal sliced deep.
She was taking everything from him again and didn’t seem to care.
“I suppose you think I cut my finger on purpose too.” She held up her hand, still in its black glove.
“Probably not. That would be a bridge too far. Even for you.”
“What in the world is that supposed to mean?” She clenched her hand.
“It’s no wonder you’re overcompensating all the time, being nice to everyone, complimenting them.” Was any part of her real? “Do you mean any of it, or is it just a ploy to make sure people like you?”
“I have integrity. I never do or say anything I don’t mean.
Look. This was just a silly contest. Sure, it would have been great if we won, but we both have other things going on.
And one of those things for me is turning in quality work to my editor.
” Ava swallowed. “Cooking isn’t life or death.
Don’t make this a bigger thing than it needs to be. ”
The fire burning in his belly turned white-hot. “It might be nothing to you, but it is everything to me.”
He turned and braced his hands on the table. Uh oh. Paul stood across the way, his arms crossed.
“Is this the way you work in a kitchen?” Paul said.
“I wanted to give you a chance, even after talking to Louie, but this display and your burnt pasties—” He shook his head as he motioned between them.
“I need better than this for my restaurant. I’ll be considering someone else for my Chicago position.
” Paul broke eye contact and walked away.
A giant hand squeezed Zach’s stomach.
“Oh, Zach, I’m so sorry.” He almost didn’t hear Ava’s whisper, his blood was so loud in his ears.
He turned back to her and narrowed his eyes. “The only thing I want is to run a restaurant of my own. You took that dream from me six years ago, and you’re taking it away now.”
“The only thing you want? That wasn’t the impression I got last night when you were kissing me.”
Acid burned in his gut. “I wish I’d never kissed you.”
Ava gasped.
Okay, that was probably a stretch, but if they hadn’t kissed, he wouldn’t have been so distracted today. However, there was something that was closer to the truth. “I should have never had you as a partner. You don’t even know how to cook.”
The shock on her face, a stark white against her flushed cheeks, should have felt like the triumphant rise of a perfectly made soufflé, but her betrayal scorched the satisfaction from his heart.
This whole adventure was a big mistake.
Ava stood rooted to the ground as Zach flung incredible accusations at her. Too many of them were landing in the soft places of her heart. In the silence after his last verbal volley, she looked around to see a semicircle of people around them.
“We’re destined to fight in front of crowds, I guess.” But her attempt at humor didn’t land. He still glowered at her. She let the half smile she’d pasted on drop to the ground.
His words I wish I’d never kissed you echoed in her ears.