3. Chapter Two
Dead. Silence.
Ryker worked his jaw, clearly realizing the implication of his words. Discomfort spread across his face when someone finally snickered.
“Ten inches?” Olive mimicked. “Seriously, there are children present.”
A teasing smile tugged her lips.
“That’s not what I meant. I was talking about pancakes.”
Well, well, it was sort of nice to see the asshole falter. Oh, she could grill him for this but decided to play nice. For now.
“That’s good because you haven’t even taken me on a date yet.”
Was it her imagination, or was Ryker blushing? He crossed his arms over his chest, his voice bland. “The pancakes are ten inches in diameter.”
“Ah, this is a pancake-eating contest. I get it now.”
“Easy, just like I said.” Lulu nudged Olive toward the table. “Let Ryker do most of the heavy eating, so you don’t throw up.” The other two tables were already filled with contestants. Wow, that was a lot of people hoping to be the alpha pancake stuffer.
“How many do we have to eat?”
“The first team to finish twenty pancakes wins. This is the first year they’re doing teams. Ryker usually wins all by himself, so don’t overextend yourself for the sake of a win.”
Olive shrugged. “It’s no problem. I can eat my fair share.”
Lulu’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? I can barely get two normal-size pancakes down before I’m bursting.”
She’d grown up with food insecurity and homelessness. Eating more than she could comfortably handle when the opportunity arose was a survival skill she’d learned young. Granted, she hadn’t had to utilize that in a very long time, but her body would remember. Besides, she wanted to prove Ryker wrong in the worst possible way.
“I’m going to show him I can manage ten inches.”
A man with a clipboard called the teams together. She sat beside Ryker and a waft of sage tickled her nose. The scent got stronger as he unclipped the radio from the waist of his jeans and laid it on the table, then slightly turned her way. Oooh, the butterflies were back.
“Here’s a trick. Fold the pancake in thirds and eat it in two bites. Wash it down with water and move on to the next one.”
“Got it.”
“You only have to eat one to make it look good.”
“I’ll eat more than one.”
“Fine. Two.”
Folding her hands on the table, she grinned in challenge. “I’ll eat half. Maybe more.”
Ryker scoffed with a dubious tilt of his head. “I don’t think so.”
“Oh, I definitely think so.”
Fox crouched between their chairs and put a hand on each of their shoulders. “This sounds like the beginnings of a bet.”
Ryker brushed his brother’s hand off his shoulder. “Get lost.”
“If Olive eats ten pancakes, you have to take her on that proper date.”
“What does she have to do when she loses?”
Fox chuckled. “She’s not going to lose.”
Suddenly realizing she was at the heart of this bet, Olive put up a finger. “Excuse me, who says I want to be a part of this?”
Ryker’s sour expression displayed his thoughts perfectly. Going out with her was an unsavory proposition, and she wasn’t about to expend energy on someone who didn’t want to be with her.
“I was joking about the date thing. You can buy me a coffee at Sticky Sweet and we’ll call it good.”
He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head. “We’ll keep the date.”
Hot and cold much? He was certainly sure of himself.
“No thanks.”
His eyes sparkled. “Why not? Are you scared?”
She gave him a sarcastic once-over. “I’m not scared. I have standards.”
Their eyes clashed. Someone snickered. A flicker of a smile crossed Ryker’s mouth. Olive turned her attention back to the announcer. Now she had to let him win otherwise she was on the hook for what was sure to be a very awkward date—even if the thought of going out with him made her heart race. But…if she let him win, he’d be an even cockier asshole, and seeing him around town would be even harder. Suffering through a quick date might be worth it just to see him lose.
Olive lifted her chin. Yeah, she could tolerate his ‘I don’t want to be here’ attitude over dinner if it meant seeing his face when he lost.
Ryker Mitchell was about to find out just how competitive and stubborn she could be.
The announcer signaled to the contestants to prepare to begin. Volunteers came around with plates of pancakes and bottles of maple syrup and set them in front of each contestant. Olive regretted wearing her favorite white boho blouse with its wide, crocheted sleeves. She pushed turquoise and silver bangles up her forearms and rolled the sleeves to her elbows. Her curly hair was unrulier than normal today and refused to stay fully contained in a ponytail. The ends would be full of syrup in no time.
As if reading her mind, Ryker pushed the bottle of syrup to the side and lowered his voice conspiratorially.
“Don’t add syrup. It makes the pancakes sticky, and they can clog your throat. Pour a little water on the pancakes to dampen them. Don’t use too much, or they turn to mush and then you’re screwed.”
God, he smelled good.
“Water on my pancakes. Got it.”
His gaze dropped to her shoulder and lightly brushed a curl behind her neck. His fingers lingered on her shoulder before pulling away. A flood of warmth invaded her body, and it was difficult to turn her attention back to the contest.
The whistle blew and the clank of forks against plates and the cheer of the crowds quickly filled her ears. Ryker was already eating. Everyone was. Realizing she was now behind, she scrambled to sprinkle water on the pancakes, overshot the tilt of the glass, and doused them instead.
“Oh no.”
The super thin pancakes turned to mush, falling apart on the fork before she could get a decent bite. Anxious to catch up, she glanced at Ryker’s plate to see how many he’d eaten.
He was plowing through and would be done in no time. Clenching her jaw, she glared at her plate and made a snap decision. There was no way she was losing this bet. It was time to get messy.
Tossing her fork aside, Olive shamelessly scooped the soggy pancakes with her fingers. Scoop, swallow, scoop, swallow. A cramp spread in her middle as she inhaled the food while intermittently checking Ryker’s progress with a side-eye. Delight sparked in her chest when she saw that she was catching up.
Reaching for another bite, she realized the last three pancakes were solid. Her stomach cramped in protest. Ten inches looked impossibly huge.
“Give them to me.” Ryker motioned hastily for her to pass him her plate. And though her stomach was threatening to burst, or even worse, force everything back up, she held onto the plate and glared at him.
“I’ll do it.”
“You don’t have to. Hand it over.”
“Aren’t we already at twenty?”
He grinned cockily. “If you’re going to win, win big.”
Win big, huh? In that case, he could take her to an expensive restaurant. Keeping Ryker’s gaze, she folded a pancake, stuffed it in her mouth, and chewed fast. Her body remembered how to do this. Full? No worries, just keep eating. It will settle eventually. She powered through the rest and just like that, her plate was empty.
Ryker’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief. Olive grinned in satisfaction.
“Winners!” The announcer came over and held up their empty plates. The other contestants groaned and tossed their silverware down. One of them called out, “Every damn year, Ryker. Could you let someone else win for once?”
He patted his middle, clearly pleased at another win. “Sorry, Bill. What can I say? I like a good pancake.”
“So does your girlfriend. Why don’t you two lick the plates, too?”
Everyone looked at her and the last mouthful of pancakes she’d eaten threatened to come back up.
“I’m not the girlfriend—” Bile rose in her throat. She quickly pressed a hand to her mouth. Don’t throw up, don’t throw up.
“You need some water?” Ryker stood, looking genuinely concerned.
“Just give me a minute.”
“I knew you couldn’t handle that much. You”re too tiny. There’s not enough room in there for twenty pancakes.”
“You just don’t like to be proved wrong.”
Breathing through her nose for a moment, she stood, waited to see if her stomach would cooperate, and then took a sip of water from her glass.
Fox appeared. “You know what else he doesn’t like? Going on dates. Ryker, take this woman somewhere fancy. She earned it.”
Olive waved a dismissive hand. She didn’t have the urge to follow through. Seeing him lose was good enough. “No need. We’re good.”
Ryker walked away, probably to avoid more of his brother’s teasing. She tracked his copper-blonde hair as he moved through the crowd toward the exit. Pausing, he glanced back in her direction. Their eyes caught and the overwhelming urge to go to him pulsed through her. A flash of them together rippled through her mind—embracing, kissing, his hands in her hair.
Just then, a high-pitched beep sounded from Ryker’s fire radio. He wasted no time running out of the tent and disappearing from view.
She hoped the fire call wasn’t serious, but she was thankful the call had come in when it had so she hadn’t done something stupid like throw herself in his massive arms.