“Care to explain why you’re here?” I ask.

“Yes. I need to make sure you didn’t pay off the judges today. Your cake looked amazing, but how could it possibly beat out my red velvet? Going into Saturday, I researched the judges and knew they all favored red velvet, so unless you paid them . . .”

I laugh so hard that my stomach hurts. “Luna Rossi, are you a sore loser?”

“I’m a gracious loser, and if I truly think your cake is better, I will shake your hand and be on my way.”

“Is that so? You’d admit defeat?”

“If defeat is earned, then yes. But I’m telling you, my cake is unlike anything you’ve ever had. There’s no way it should have placed second.”

Yup, you heard her right—yours truly pulled out a first place. I can still hear Thad’s screech of joy ringing through my ears. Team Rossi took second, and poor Team Hernandez sucked up third place. Helen had to be pumped full of fluids afterward. She claimed there should have been a redo, since she was incapable of helping the whole time, but according to production, she was quite alert during filming. Naomi and Thad were correct—the lady just would not stop talking.

But I’ve never in my life felt better about a win, especially when I glanced at Luna and she gave me a sly smile and a shake of her head. I expected a text tonight, not a visit. Though I can’t say I mind.

“Only way to find out.” I take the fork from her. “Whose should we try first?”

“Mine, of course,” she says, holding the Tupperware between us. “Make sure you get a hefty bite of both cake and icing.”

“I’m well aware of how to eat, Luna.”

She smirks, a wicked glint in her eyes. “Can’t be too sure.” She digs her fork in and holds it up to mine. “Cheers.” She clinks our forks together and then takes a bite. I watch as her lips work slowly over the fork, her eyes shutting for a second. Hell, I’ll say her cake is better just from the show she’s putting on while eating it.

Not wanting to get caught staring, I take a bite as well and . . . damn, this is good.

Cream cheese frosting and a subtle chocolate flavor to the sponge, with small chocolate chips inside the mix . . . it’s really fucking good.

“Well?” she asks expectantly. “What do you think?”

Just to be an ass, I shrug. “Eh, it’s okay.”

“Bullshit.” She pushes at my leg and laughs. “I saw your eyes roll to the back of your head. You want to marry this cake.”

“Okay, let’s not overexaggerate.”

“Then tell the truth.”

“Fine.” I clear my throat. “It’s really fucking good.”

“I knew it.” She clenches her fist and looks up at my ceiling. “I freaking knew it. I knew that it should have—”

“Before you start celebrating, you still have to try mine.” She pauses—she knows I’m right. She cleans off her fork with a napkin. “Make sure you get an equal sponge-to-icing ratio,” I say as the fork glides effortlessly through the sponge.

She rolls her eyes at that and waits for me to load up my fork. Then she holds up her fork, we clink them together, and we both take a bite. I already know what my cake tastes like because I had some on set, but the look on Luna’s face as she discovers my little hidden secret is probably one of the most satisfying things I’ve ever seen.

Her eyes narrow. “You bastard,” she whispers.

My head falls back, and I laugh so hard I almost choke on the cake in my mouth.

“How did you know?”

I take a second to swallow and then cough out my laugh. When I’ve gathered myself, I set my fork down. “I can research too, and I stumbled upon a little factoid last night that had me practicing icing fingers into the wee hours of this morning.”

“Almond extract,” she says, like it’s some dastardly villain.

Like any good villain, I rub my hands together. “I just kept thinking, What if Luna comes in with the same cake? How can I elevate this? So I started researching cake flavors yesterday, when I should have been going over a deposition.” She smiles. “I was knee deep in ganaches when I realized I should add a flavor I know Thad and Naomi adore, for that personal touch. Katherine Barber, the cake master, isn’t always about flavor but about the story behind the end result. She gushed over Thad and Naomi sharing a liking for almond and how they would always try to find new almond-flavored pastries.”

“And Katherine is also obsessed with an almond-and-vanilla flavor combo. Damn it,” Luna says, slumping back into the couch, defeated.

“I researched several almond icing flavors, went home last night—after going over the deposition, of course—”

“Of course.”

“And I started testing out different recipes. Like a freak, I cut some of the cake we made together, cut off the icing, and then started taste testing with the new frosting so I could have a feel for the flavor combinations. But the moment I found it, I knew. I was coming in hot with a winner.”

“I can’t believe you did that.” She shoves at my leg, but I dodge her and grab her hand instead.

The surprise on her face doesn’t deter me as I entwine our fingers and press our palms together. Her hand is tiny compared to mine, but so soft, except for her calloused fingertips, which graze the back of my hand.

“I did it for two reasons.”

“And what were those reasons?” she asks, staring down at our hands.

I drag my thumb over hers very slowly and deliberately. “Well, I wanted to win for my brother, to start to mend that relationship.”

“And did it?”

“It was a start,” I answer, reveling in the fact that she hasn’t pulled her hand away, that she actually seems to like it.

Sitting here, with our hands clasped, our bodies only a few inches apart, I feel like a teenager again. The excitement and vulnerability, the fear and possibility—they’re all rushing back like a tidal wave, pulling me under and making me forget everything I thought I knew about relationships.

“And what was the other reason?” she asks.

I take a deep breath and look her dead in the eyes. “You.”

Her breath catches in her throat as her eyes search mine. I want her to see it, the way I long for her, how she has me thinking in an entirely new way.

When she looks away, my heart sinks for a moment, but then the smallest of smiles tips up the corners of her mouth. My confession didn’t scare her, not in the slightest. Coyly, she tilts her head to the side and asks, “Why me?”

This is it. An opening. I’ve been developing feelings for this girl, the kinds of feelings I haven’t had in so long, maybe not ever. Luna is special—I knew that from day one, when I attempted to “apologize,” and she wouldn’t have it. She’s so strong in her convictions, and so loving. Incredibly loving. When I opened up about Thad, she showed me more empathy than I’ve ever experienced before.

And this past week, we dropped our shields and swords and actually spoke to each other like human beings. There’s so much I don’t know about this girl, but I want to know it all.

“Why you?” My gaze falls to our connected hands. Heart thrumming, gut churning with nerves, I gather enough courage to tell her the truth. “Because I want to impress you, Luna, so when I ask you out on a date”—I look up—“there’s no way you can say no.”

Her smile softens and she leans toward me. “And you think getting first place in a cake challenge is going to do that?”

“It’s one way.”

“What’s another?”

Christ, she’s tempting me.

I want to kiss her, desperately.

I’ve thought about those lips. I’ve wondered what they taste like, how they’d feel sliding across my body. I’ve wondered if she has the same thoughts—and from the way she’s leaning in toward me, and the way her eyes flutter open ever so softly, I’m going to guess she has.

I turn her hand over and trace a circle along her palm. “I think that a new pair of shoes might make me date material.”

She laughs and leans her side against the couch, curling her legs behind her and inching even closer to me.

“New shoes very well might do the trick.”

“I know that would do it for Helen. That old minx has her eye on me—I can feel it in my bones. She makes fun of me, but deep down, she wants a piece of this.” I gesture toward my body.

“Is that right? You think Helen has a thing for you?”

“Easily.” I reverse my circles on her palm. “The whole shoe thing is a total front. She’s trying to make me think she doesn’t like me, but really, she’s wondering when she can have her way with me in the interview room.”

“Wow, that’s quite the fantasy you’ve drawn up. I’m not sure it’s Helen who’s got it bad. Maybe it’s the other way around.”

“I mean . . . when she sat on you during the first challenge, it really got my engines roaring. I like a woman who doesn’t mind using her ass as a weapon.”

She chuckles and shakes her head. “You’re deranged. My life was at risk. She might be a slight woman, but she’s tough. I felt her butt bones—they left bruises on my stomach.”