Page 35 of Fire and Icing (The Firemen of Waterford TN #1)

When we’re in the cab of his truck, backing out of the driveway, I say, “I don’t love that term.”

“What term?”

“Overthinking. Who’s to say it’s overthinking? It could just be that everyone else under-thinks. You don’t see me walking around tapping people’s temples saying, ‘Not much going on up there. Shouldn’t you be thinking a bit more about the serious things in your life?’”

Dustin busts into a full laugh. “Oh man. I never thought of it that way.”

His laughter continues. “Man, Firecracker. You’ve got a point.

” He pauses, staring out the windshield.

Then he glances over at me. “Just so you know, I’m not criticizing you.

I’m simply observing. Maybe I’m just curious.

I’m like the kid standing outside the window of my favorite candy shop, watching them drizzle all that caramel and chocolate all over everything while I’m dying to open the door, inhale the sweet aroma and take a bite or two …

or seven … or as many as they’ll let me.

I don’t do well standing outside. It’s not in my nature. ”

“You don’t say,” I tease.

He smiles over at me and I smile back.

He thinks my mind is a candy shop? His favorite candy shop? And he wants in?

I could say it now. I could open the door and give him unlimited samples.

But what if that backfires? No. I can’t.

After today, I can. When we’re on the way home from the contest. I will have won or I will have lost. Then, when he knows I don’t need him to fake anymore, I’ll tell him.

I’ll give him so many samples Costco will be taking notes.

I reach over and turn on the radio. Dustin eases back into his seat. I don’t even ask when I pop off my shoes and put my feet on his dash. Everything about the drive to the estate feels familiar and easy between us. We don’t have to talk. I’m more comfortable than I’ve been in days.

When the driveway of the estate comes into view, my heart starts to race. I’d nearly forgotten the whole reason I asked him to pretend to be my boyfriend. Or … Syd asked him … or he volunteered. It’s all a blur. But now, looking up at the main house, I almost feel dizzy.

Today, I will either win or lose.

I will walk away with enough prize money to stabilize and secure the future of the bakery, or I will not.

The bakery won’t fold. Not for a while, at least. And I can always try again—enter another contest or …

Who knows. But if I win—if we win—I won’t have to stress over finances for a while.

I can focus on baking. I can let Vanessa scoop up all the contracts in town. I can breathe.

“You doing okay?” Dustin asks as he kills the engine.

“I’m good.” I shrug. “I mean, I might puke. But otherwise, yeah …”

“I’ll hold your hair.” He hops out of the truck without another word.

Before I have a chance to think, he’s at my door.

“That’s gross,” I say, hopping out and landing inches away from him.

“You’re the one telling me you’re going to lose your muffins.” He smiles playfully. “I’m just saying I’ve got you. Even in that.”

I stare up into his dancing blue eyes. “You do. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” He winks. “Now, let’s go claim your prize.”

He’s so convincing, I accidentally say, “Our prize,” instead of refuting the idea that we won.

Cathy approaches us, her heels clicking on the pavement. “Here you are!”

We greet her and are whisked into the estate, Dustin is taken somewhere while I’m brought into one of the bedrooms on the first floor to have my makeup and hair refreshed.

“Final episode,” Cathy explains. “We want things to be a little more polished. Viewership was at an all-time high watching the footage of you two cooking your dessert last night. Everyone is on pins and needles to see who won.”

“Pins and needles describes it well,” I say.

“Nerves are normal,” Cathy assures me. Then she presses her headset and says, “Yes. Yes. I’m on my way.” She turns back to me. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a fire to put out. Ah! Fire! And you’re dating a fireman! Well, too bad he can’t extinguish this one!”

She scurries out of the bedroom, chatting into her headset as she goes.

An hour later, Dustin and I have been reunited with the other couple under the hot lights of the set. It feels like months since we were here, living on site, baking together. Only, today there’s a live studio audience in the rows of seats that have been set up just behind the cameras.

The cameraman counts down. Someone shouts, “Quiet on the set!” and one of the crew snaps the clapperboard before darting out of frame.

Then we’re live.

Kamela speaks into the camera while the judges file into their six seats behind a raised judging table. Our competitors stand across from us, facing the camera and looking as nervous as I feel.

I think they’re going to get right into announcing the winner, but instead, the screen behind us lights up with a montage of our week at the estate. First it runs through the experience of the other couple. Then Kamela says a few comments about their time at the estate.

We pause for a commercial break. When we return, there’s a montage of Dustin’s and my week.

We’re shown competing, walking together on the grounds, even working out at the gym the one time he talked me into it.

I knew there were cameras in all public spaces, but I had no idea how much footage they had captured.

After the montage ends, Kamela turns to Dustin and me and asks, “Are you ready to find out if your creation won the entire competition?”

“We’re ready,” Dustin answers for both of us.

He slips his arm around my waist and I lean into him.

“Alright. Let’s go to our judges for their impressions. Remember, you will be judged on the harmony of the components, technical execution and creative interpretation of the theme, which is Unity: The Ultimate Shared Dessert.”

Each judge goes down the line, stating how the two desserts compared based on each of the three criteria. When all the judges have finished making their comments, Kamela stands between us and the other couple.

She looks into the camera and says, “I know each of you at home are eager to find out who won this year’s Plated Network’s Half-Baked Competition. We’ll be right back after this commercial break to find out.”

The cameras pause recording. Dustin’s arm remains securely tucked behind me. We don’t move as we only have two minutes until the cameras are rolling again.

Kamela welcomes the television audience back and then she says, “Well, are you ready to find out who the judges picked?” She glances at our competitors and then us.

We all nod.

The first judge says, “It was a very difficult choice, but in the end, it came down to the execution of the concept. And because of the way this couple represented the frailty of love and the bridge between two separate individuals, I chose Emberleigh and Dustin.”

I glance up at Dustin. His hand on my back tightens momentarily and he smiles down at me.

The next three judges share their votes, one after the other. Two are in favor of our competition. The fourth says she sides with us. We’re tied.

Kamela looks into the camera. “We have two judges left. If both of them vote for the same couple, we have a winner. If we end up in a tie, the contestants will compete in a speed round tie-breaker. Each couple will have forty-five minutes to create a dessert according to our specifications.”

Kamela turns to the fifth judge. He’s the one Dustin always thought was flirting with me. Geoffrey.

After a dramatic pause, Geoffrey says, “The competition was fierce. I’ll admit I had my biases—but this dessert won me over. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I have to say, Dustin and Emberleigh gave me a confection worthy of the prize.”

The studio is still as the cameras pan to the final judge.

She smiles at each of us. “I am honored to have been one of the judges for such a talented group of bakers. Each of you deserve to be here and you both deserve to win. I do have a favorite. And, I’m happy to say, the dessert created by Dustin and Emberleigh was the winner. ”

Her words wash over me. Did she say … Dustin and Emberleigh? We won?

“We won!” Dustin shouts.

As soon as my eyes land on his, reality sinks in. We won!

I jump up and down, throwing my arms around Dustin. He pulls me in, hugging me close. His voice rumbles through his chest. “We won! You won, Firecracker!”

I pull back, looking up into his eyes. He bends down, placing his mouth next to my ear. “You did it. I’m so proud of you. You deserve this.”

He starts to pull back. The warmth of his breath still lingers on the shell of my ear.

The buzz of excitement fills me. The studio audience is cheering.

Dustin’s cheek grazes mine. I grab his face, cupping his cheeks in my hands, and I kiss him.

He smiles into our kiss. I can feel his lips turn upward.

Pulling back, I whisper, "I ... I'm sorry. That was … I’m so happy!"

Dustin brings his mouth back so it’s right next to my cheek and he whispers, "Don't apologize. I've wanted to do that for a while."

He steps back, taking my hand in his, looking down at me with a look I’ll never forget for as long as I live.

Kamela says something into the camera to the viewing audience. Everything around us becomes a blur. Cameras zoom in, Branson appears seemingly out of nowhere, a microphone extended in our direction. “Congratulations, Emberleigh and Dustin!”

I’m half grateful for the distraction, half flustered.

I want to talk to Dustin. But, do I? What if I’m misreading his signals?

He’s a golden retriever through and through—the kind of person who makes everyone feel special.

Unfortunately, people like me can end up misreading all that warmth for something more than it is.

I set all my thoughts about Dustin aside while Kamela thanks the viewers at home and tells them to tune in to the next cooking show the network is hosting.

Someone on the production team shouts, “That’s a wrap!”

The stage lights start powering down.

A member of the security team ushers us through the back doors into a hallway and out to Dustin’s truck while the studio audience is escorted to their cars.

I’ve barely buckled when Dustin turns to me and says, “That was amazing! I knew you’d win.”

“We won.”

“I couldn’t have won a baking contest at a preschool. You won.”

“And you helped.”

He smiles at me and then he asks, “Do you want to talk about that kiss?”

“I think I’d rather not.”

Would I? Maybe. I don’t know. I prepared myself to tell him everything. And now that we’re here, with the feel of his lips on mine still fresh, I’m not so sure.

“Okay. But it’s not going anywhere. And I’m not either.”

“You’re not?”

“I don’t think so, not unless you count going back to your gran’s and then into work tomorrow.”

He turns the key in the ignition and I take a deep breath. “I just have a thing with people leaving. I don’t like it when someone says they’ll stay … and then they move on without a thought.”

“Like your parents?”

“And others.” I don’t mention Drew. Dustin doesn’t need to hear the way he left without a second thought. I’ll sound like I’m not over my ex. And I most definitely am.

“An ex boyfriend?” Dustin perceptively asks.

“He wasn’t that important. At the time … I don’t know. At the time I thought he mattered a whole lot. But my perspective has shifted over time. He wasn’t the one.”

I start to say more, about how his family never accepted me, how I always felt like his second choice. And how I stopped dating altogether after he left. But I don’t say any of that.

Instead, I say, “Sorry. You didn’t sign up to be my therapist, just my fake boyfriend.”

His eyes are soft and filled with the kind of compassion that makes me wonder if I accidentally said all my thoughts out loud without realizing it.

“I’d sign up for more if you’d let me,” Dustin says in a voice that’s not exactly careful, but is far less bold than usual.

I glance across the truck at him and smile.

“Let me sleep on that,” I say, trying to steady the racing of my heart.

I was going to be the one to push us forward. I was. But now that his invitation is out there—raw and real—I need a second. Just a second. Because I think I already know my answer.