The Baking Games

Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

SAVANNAH

That was brutal.

I slump over onto the couch in the courtyard area, trying to hold back tears that have been threatening to spill over for several minutes now.

The room is buzzing with activity as the other contestants talk about the challenge, but I can only think about how badly I did. I feel like an absolute failure. Zara notices and makes her way over, her presence immediately calming me a bit.

She's beautiful in that natural way, with her black hair and ringlet curls that perfectly shape her face. She sits down beside me, giving me a sympathetic smile.

"Hey there, Savannah. Tough day?" I laugh and nod, unable to trust my voice. It's probably pretty shaky right now. It feels like there's a lump in my throat that's going to choke me. "Let me tell you something,” Zara says, leaning in a little bit closer. "I've had my fair share of failures. More than I can count, but every single one of them taught me something valuable."

I look at her, trying to find comfort. "Oh yeah, like what?"

"Well, like how to pick myself up and keep going,” she says. "You know, failure is just a stepping stone. It's not the end of the road unless you decide that it is. It's just part of the journey, and from what I've seen, you've got skills and determination that will keep you going no matter what."

I sigh, my shoulders sagging a bit. "This just all feels so overwhelming. I want to do well so badly, not just for me but for my sister, too."

She nods, her eyes filled with understanding. "I know, and that's exactly why you can't give up. You must show your sister and yourself that setbacks don't define you. What matters is how you bounce back from them."

I nod, trying to take her words to heart. "Thanks. I guess I needed to hear that."

She leans back, looking around the area. "You know, I've traveled all over the world. I've learned a lot from my experiences, and one thing that stands out is that people appreciate resilience no matter where you go. They respect someone who doesn't give up even when things get tough."

"You've been to a lot of places. I've barely been out of Georgia."

She smiles. "Traveling taught me that the world is full of possibilities. Every place has its challenges and rewards, but the most important journey is the one you take within yourself. What you learn about yourself through your travels. Finding your own strength and courage is what really matters."

I manage a small smile. "I wish I had your confidence. You make everything sound so easy."

She chuckles. "Trust me, it's not always easy. I've had my share of sleepless nights and moments of doubt, but I've learned to embrace those moments as part of my growth process, and you will, too."

At that moment, I notice that Rhett is nearby, his eyes on us. There's a flicker of something in his gaze. Concern. Could that be it? He quickly looks away and continues talking to someone else, but seeing that softer side of him is strange, even if just for a moment. I've seen it a few times now, like at the assisted living center and when he helped me with the blender, but then he turns right back into good old Rhett—competitive, silent, walls up all around him like some sort of fortress.

"Remember,” Zara says, continuing, “we're all in this together, even if we're competing with each other. Everybody should be rooting for everybody else, even if it doesn't always feel like it."

I laugh. "Thanks, but I know some people here are definitely not rooting for me, including my ex-boyfriend."

She rolls her eyes. "Oh, yes, I heard about that. Gossip flies through here pretty quickly. To be honest, I don't really like that guy."

I look at her and smile. "Neither do I."

She squeezes my leg before she gets up and walks back inside. As the evening wears on, I try to join in conversation with others, but my mind just keeps drifting back to my failure of a challenge. I can't shake the feeling of inadequacy. The room finally starts to empty out, and everybody starts heading off to bed. I find myself sitting alone, lost in thought.

Rhett walks by, apparently heading to his own room, and pauses momentarily.

"You okay?" he asks, his tone surprisingly gentle. I force a smile.

"Yeah. Just processing, I guess."

He nods, not pressing further. "You'll bounce back, Sunny. We all have our off days."

I raise an eyebrow. "Even you?"

"Especially me", he says with a smirk. "Don't let it get to your head."

I chuckle softly as I watch him walk away, and I feel a strange sense of comfort, knowing that maybe, just maybe, I'm not as alone in this as I thought.

SAVANNAH

The next morning, the producers call us out into the courtyard for a surprise activity. I got a decent night’s sleep, but I really didn't want to get up this early today.

The air buzzes with anticipation as everybody gathers around, wondering what they have in store for us. Dan, our tall and dorky host, steps forward with his trademark toothy grin.

"Good morning, contestants. Today, we have a fun little competition to lighten the mood. We're going to do a blindfolded taste test."

Some people murmur with excitement, others with apprehension, as we all exchange glances. A blindfolded taste test. This should be interesting. “We’ll be pairing you up randomly,” he continues, pulling a hat out from behind his back. Come draw a partner’s name from the hat when I call your name.”

The contestants are called up one by one. When it's my turn, I reach into the hat and pull out a slip of paper.

Unfolding it, I read the name Rhett. Great, just great. Rhett walks over, a smirk already on his face.

“Looks like we’re partners, Sunny,” he says. I roll my eyes at his nickname for me.

“Don’t get too excited.”

Dan claps his hands to get our attention again. “Okay, everybody. Let's get started. Each team will be blindfolded and have to guess the ingredients in five different desserts. The team with the lowest score will face a penalty.”

Rhett and I look at each other. “A penalty?” I whisper.

“I guess we’ll find out what it is later,” he says with a shrug.

Dan grins like a Cheshire cat. “Savannah, you’re going to be blindfolded first. Rhett, you'll feed her, and she has to guess the ingredients, and then we’ll switch. You’ll have thirty seconds for each dessert.”

I put on a blindfold and take a deep breath, feeling excited but nervous. Rhett’s proximity to me is a little bit unnerving. I can smell his cologne, and I like it more than I would ever care to admit out loud.

I can almost hear the smirk in his voice when he says, “Ready, Sunny?”

“Stop calling me that and just get on with it," I mutter, trying to focus. The first dessert is placed in front of us. I can hear the plate touch the counter. Rhett puts his hand on the back of my neck and then gently guides a spoonful into my mouth. I taste something rich and creamy with a strange aftertaste. “Is this chocolate mousse, and is that lavender?” I guess.

Rhett chuckles. “Nope. Try again.”

“I don't know. White chocolate?”

“Wrong again.”

Dan calls time. Rhett is barely containing his laughter.

“It was goat cheese.”

“Seriously? Who puts goat cheese in a dessert?” I say, gagging.

“Next one,” Dan announces.

Rhett feeds me another spoonful, and I'm hit with a confusing mixture of flavors. “Okay, is this apple, cinnamon, and blue cheese?”

“Close, but no cigar,” Rhett says.

“I don't know. I give up.”

Rhett corrects me. “It’s Gorgonzola.”

“Okay, disgusting,” I mutter.

The next few rounds go similarly, with Rhett feeding me increasingly bizarre combinations that I can barely identify. By the end of my turn, I feel frustrated and a bit nauseous.

"Okay, switch," Dan calls out. Rhett puts on a blindfold, and I can't help but smile.

"Your turn," I say teasingly. I'm handed the first dessert, and I take a moment to appreciate the role reversal. I feed him a spoonful, and he chews thoughtfully. "Is that dark chocolate and cayenne pepper?"

"Wow, you got it," I say impressed.

He smiles a bit. "I told you I've got an educated palate."

The next dessert is a bit trickier, and I watch as he furrows his brow, trying to figure out the flavors. "Mango and something earthy. Is it turmeric?"

"Nope, it's ginger," I say.

"Close enough," he mutters under his breath.

We continue through the remaining desserts, and Rhett does slightly better than I did, but not by much.

When the taste test is finally over, and everybody else has finished, Dan announces the results. Some of the teams did very well, surprisingly well. Others, not so much, but I feel like none of them did quite as terribly as we did. I hate going first.

"The team with the lowest score is…” Dan says, pausing for dramatic effect. "Savannah and Rhett!”

I groan, "Seriously?"

Rhett smirks. "Well, I guess we need to brush up on our taste buds."

"Or not eat crazy combinations like that. I feel sick to my stomach.”

Dan's grin widens. "And now for your penalty, Savannah and Rhett. For the next seventy-two hours, you two will be chained together."

There's a collective gasp from the group, and my jaw drops. I feel like it's about to hit my feet.

"What?" I say, staring at him like he’s speaking a language I don’t speak at all.

“Are they joking?” Rhett whispers in my direction.

Two producers step forward, holding a metal chain with cushioned cuffs at each end. They fasten one around my wrist and the other around Rhett’s, securing us with what looks to be about a three-foot chain.

"You have got to be kidding me," I mutter. Is it too late to go home? I wonder to myself.

“We’d better get used to it," Rhett says, giving it a gentle tug. He thinks this is funny.

Dan claps his hands again. "Remember, you'll be chained together for seventy-two hours, including the reward challenge, which means you win or lose together. Good luck."

As the producers walk away, I turn to Rhett. "This is a nightmare."

RHETT

I’m chained to Savannah. What has my life become? I try to imagine my mother watching this at home, her face beet red and her blood pressure surging. It actually makes me smile a little.

Is she watching? Doubtful. My mother doesn’t really watch television. She’s one of those people who proudly announces that fact any chance she gets, as if it’s one more thing that makes her better than other people.

“This is insane,” Savannah says. We haven’t moved a muscle yet. Everyone has left the courtyard, and here we stand like two injured animals afraid to move.

“Three whole days. Who thought this stupidity up?”

She sighs. “I have no idea.”

“You know, if you were better at guessing, we wouldn’t be standing here chained together. And I would be making my famous maple bacon waffles for myself.”

“First of all, don’t you dare try to blame this on me, Rhett Jennings! You didn’t guess right either.”

“I got a couple right. How many did you get? Um, I believe it was zero ,” I say, leaning in front of her face and forming my fingers into a zero like a toddler. Why is she so pretty? It’s annoying on so many levels.

“Maple bacon waffles. That sounds pretty good right now.”

We’re still standing here like two morons.

“Since I’m right-handed and my right hand is currently chained to you, I will need help.”

She smiles slightly. “I can do that.”

We finally start walking toward the door.

“How are we going to sleep?” I suddenly blurt out.

“Well, I personally like to lie down and close my eyes,” Savannah starts to say, laughing. I stop at the door, which jerks her back toward me a bit, causing her to fall backward. Again, I catch her.

“You know what I mean. We can’t sleep… together.” My heart speeds up a bit, and everything that happens to young men starts to happen. Launch sequence activated. I can’t stand this woman. This shouldn’t be happening. I need bolt cutters. My mind is racing. Cameras are all around, and the audience will get the wrong idea all over again.

“Relax, Rhett. We have twin beds. We’ll just pull them close enough for our arms not to break off. Lainey can move to another room. I’m sure she’ll gladly join Connor in your room anyway.”

She seems unbothered. How can she be unfazed by all of this? Oh, that’s right. She’s Sunny. She bounces right back from stuff, even her loss last night.

We start walking again and walk inside the house to the communal kitchen. Thankfully, there aren't that many people there. They've made their food and either moved to their rooms or into the dining room.

Everybody chatters away, and only a few of them make fun of us as we finally get into the kitchen. This is not ideal, to say the least. We've already tripped over each other twice just since leaving the courtyard. I cannot imagine how we will face the reward challenge together, but for now, I'm starving. We just need to make these maple bacon waffles.

"This is the most ridiculous thing I've ever done,” Savannah says.

I smirk. "Just think of it as a bonding experience."

"More like a punishment,” she mutters under her breath.

"Can you just stand still for even a minute?" I ask her. She’s the most fidgety person I’ve ever met.

“Do you really want to make the woman you’re chained to mad right now?” she says, raising an eyebrow.

"This is going to be a long seventy-two hours,” I mutter under my breath.

We get over to the kitchen counter, and I start trying to figure out exactly how I will gather all the ingredients with my right hand tied to Savannah. I'm definitely going to need her help. We're going to have to work on our communication skills.

"Okay, let's get this over with. So I take it you've never made maple bacon waffles?" I ask her.

She looks at me, raising an eyebrow. "I can't say that I have. Usually, I just make frozen waffles.”

I roll my eyes. "You're a pastry chef, Sunny. You're supposed to make waffles from scratch."

"I make pancakes from scratch," she says as if that makes up for the fact that she’s been eating frozen waffles all these years.

“It's basically the same kind of thing. I’m going to need your help getting everything because, obviously, I can't use my hand,” I say, holding it up as if she doesn't remember that we are shackled together like two prisoners.

"First, we need flour, eggs, milk, maple syrup, bacon…”

She holds her hand up. "Can you slow down a little bit? We're going to have to really communicate to navigate this."

“Fine,” I say with a sigh, repeating the ingredients more slowly.

The whole time, we hear the chain clinking between us. It's very distracting.

"We need to cook this bacon until it's crispy,” I instruct, handing her the package of bacon. Only she can't open it without my help. I help her open the package of bacon, and then she starts laying the strips in the frying pan. “Now remember, don't burn that bacon,” I repeat.

She gives me a mock salute. "Yes, sir."

Eventually, we start to get a rhythm to moving around the kitchen. We mix up the dry ingredients—flour, baking powder, some sugar, and a pinch of salt—and before we know it, we have the batter ready to put into the waffle iron.

"Now we crumble the bacon into the batter,” I say as if that's not patently obvious. The smell of maple syrup and bacon fills the kitchen, making my stomach growl. "All right. Now, we need to pour them into the waffle iron. I've turned it on and preheated it. This is the easy part. Just pour in the batter, and we'll wait."

She looks at me, "Yes, I understand how a waffle iron works, Rhett. I'm not stupid."

I realize I’m not treating her like a trained pastry chef. I’m treating her like I’m teaching her something she doesn’t already know. And as bad as the challenge went, I know Savannah has skills. I saw them when we were in school. She made some stunning desserts, and she was highly focused. So far in the competition, she seems scared. Distracted. Worried.

I’m sure part of it is worrying about her sister, but I think a lot of it is Connor. I try to imagine what it’d be like to have one of my ex-girlfriends in the house, and I shudder a bit.

“What was that?” she asks me when I shake.

“Just got a chill.”

“Oh Lord, I hope you’re not getting a fever or something. I don’t want to get sick.”

I look at her. “Thanks for your overwhelming concern, but I’m fine. I was just thinking about something.”

“You literally shook. What were you thinking about?” she grins, obviously giddy with excitement to do a deep dive into my mind.

“None of your business.” I continue staring at the waffle iron as if that will speed up time.

“Come on! We have to spend a lot of time together. Tell me your deep, dark secret, Rhett.”

When she looks at me, I feel a wave of something. She’s smiling. Her teeth are so perfect and white. Her lips are naturally full, and she wears the perfect shade to highlight her red hair. There’s a smattering of freckles on her nose that some women would kill to have.

What is wrong with me?

This isn’t good. She’s my competition. My nemesis. My complete opposite. My body and mind are betraying me with these thoughts.

“Fine. I was thinking how awful it would be to have an ex in this house.”

She pauses for a moment. “It is awful.”

“Maybe he’ll leave soon,” I say, half wishing it for her and half wishing it for myself.

“Doubtful. As horrible as Connor is, he’s a talented pastry chef. I’ve seen him create amazing things.”

“Well, we can hope he’ll leave.”

“Agreed.”

We finish making the waffles and carry them to the breakfast bar in the kitchen. Neither of us wants to join the table full of people in the other room and listen to jokes about the chain between us.

“These are delicious, Rhett,” she says. Savannah is one of those people who can despise you and still compliment you. I don’t understand it. I don’t have a good poker face.

“Thanks. I’ve perfected them over years of being on my own, traveling all over the world.”

“Oh, that’s right. You work on celebrity yachts. Anyone I’d know?”

My mind scrambles. “Probably.”

She grins. It’s a nice grin. She could be on a toothpaste commercial. “Well, give me some names!”

“I really can’t. Non-disclosure agreement and all.” What a stupid excuse.

“You had to sign an NDA to make desserts on celebrity yachts?”

“Yep,” I say, purposely filling my mouth with waffles so hopefully she won’t press further.

“Huh. I never thought they’d make you do that. Still, you can trust me. Just tell me one big-name celebrity,” she says, leaning closer.

I lean in, and I can smell her shampoo. It smells like strawberries and vanilla, and I have a sudden urge to press my nose into her thick, red hair. That ought to get me booted from this house right quick.

“I can’t. We’re currently on national television,” I whisper before leaning back.

She laughs. “Wow. I forgot about that.” She looks around at the cameras. “Amazing how quickly we forget everyone’s watching us. Hi, everyone!” she says, waving at a camera in the corner of the kitchen.

It’s true. Thousands, if not millions, of people are watching the show’s livestream. That is amazing to me. I watch TV occasionally, but I can’t imagine staring at my computer between shows and watching strangers live in a house. Reality TV really has been society’s downfall.

“So,” I say, trying to divert her attention away from asking me any more personal questions, “you work in a bakery?”

“I work in a bakery inside a grocery store.”

“And how is that?”

She shrugs her shoulders. “It’s not working on celebrity yachts, I’ll tell you that much.”

“What’s your end goal with all this?” I ask, waving my hand around.

“Help my sister go to college and hopefully have enough left over to rent a space and open my own bakery. Long term, I’d love to own a chain of bakeries.”

I can see her doing that. She’d be perfect in some little small-town bakery, like in one of those cheesy Christmas movies I swear I haven’t watched on TV.

“What about you? What’s your big goal?”

“Work in a Michelin star-rated restaurant, and then own one someday.”

She nods. “I can see that.”

I cock my head to the side. “Oh yeah? Why?”

“You’re kind of… fancy.”

Fancy? That wasn’t what I expected her to say.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Relax, Rhett. It wasn’t a putdown. It’s just that what I know of you from school is that you’re buttoned up. You’re white dress shirts, and I’m vintage aprons. You’re drawing your designs, and I’m flying by the seat of my pants.”

“I’m a winner, and you’re a loser,” I blurt out before I can stop myself. Geez, why did I say that? I’m going to be chained to this woman for days, and I decide to be a jerk right out of the gate.

She stares at me with her big blue eyes and swallows hard. I expect to see her eyes well up, but her face turns red instead. I can barely make out her face from her fiery hair within moments.

“That was rude, even for you, Rhett.”

“But he’s not wrong.” We both hear his voice at the same time.

Connor.

“Go away, Connor,” I say, wishing I could put my words to Savannah back into my stupid mouth.

“Um, it’s a free house, dude. I can roam around as I please.” He leans against the doorframe leading to the foyer. “Don’t feel bad for pointing out the truth.”

“You haven’t won anything either, Connor,” Savannah says, pushing her plate away from her like she’s lost her appetite.

“Well, I’ve come a lot closer than you. The judges eviscerated you, Sav. If Bianca hadn’t royally screwed up, you’d already be back in your crappy little apartment with your annoying sister.”

I stand up without thinking and face Connor, pulling Savannah up from her chair. My nose is inches from his nose.

“Watch it, Connor,” I say, a warning woven into my voice. He looks surprised.

“Wait. Is something going on between you two? Was the audience right? Are you and Savannah here… what’s the polite way to say ‘ having relations ’ on TV?”

Without thinking, I grab his shirt in my left hand. It’s not my best hand, but I could do some damage if I wanted. That’s the perk of being the biggest guy here… or in most places, really.

“Shut your stupid mouth, Connor,” I say through gritted teeth.

“Rhett, don’t! You’ll get yourself kicked out of the competition, and that’s what he wants because he’s afraid he can’t win with you here.”

What did she just say? Did Savannah just compliment me? Or is she just trying to keep me from ripping this guy apart and getting blood on her vintage apron?

I slowly release him so that his feet are fully touching the ground again, and I see the color come back into his face. If nothing else, Connor has received a warning he needed.

“Savannah, your boyfriend seems to have anger problems,” he says with a sneer. “Enjoy your waffles, lovebirds.”

Savannah and I just sit there in silence. What else is there to say?