There’re only two competitor tables now and the audience tables are pushed back against the back of the studio. There are more restaurant-style tables closer to the kitchens which I assume will be a part of what we design. There are more seats set up so I wonder for a moment who they’re for. I don’t get a chance to think about it long though because the Everhearts have arrived, looking fresh, crisp, and ready. Flynn is wearing a suit, but his sons are dressed to impress in their chef gear. They’ve already donned their white jackets. We’ll be wearing the same this stage of the competition, and I can only hope we look half as impressive as these beautiful giants.
I try to catch Knox’s eye but he’s studiously avoiding me. He unpacks his laptop and notebooks at their table while Flynn strides past us to the audience section, no greeting coming our way.
Whatever. I grab Hannah’s hand. “Let’s go to makeup.”
She looks surprised and pats her face.
“You look beautiful but we have to be camera ready. Unfortunately, that’s quite a bit more makeup than we’d usually wear.”
“What about Wyatt?”
“He’ll have to go too, but he knows the drill.” I was trying to be helpful, but maybe it’s unwanted. “Do you want to wait for him?” He has wandered over to the enemy’s table, chatting up all three men.
“Thank you, Rowan. I’d love to go with you.”
When we come back to our table, the studio has filled up quite a bit while we were gone. Mike has made it and we exchange waves. Also, all three of the model sisters from the first round are here as well as a couple family members from the Warren and Ward families. There’s lots of crew moving around setting up as well as the presenters going over notes with each other. The only ones missing so far are the judges.
Wyatt and the Everheart brothers are nowhere to be seen, so I sit at our table and go over my own notes. I pull out a folded paper I’ve been holding onto awhile and spread it out on the table, wondering how much I should use of it in our final plans. I’ve already submitted recipes for the first couple of days and some are from here, but those are mostly just basic bistro food. I only hesitate because Knox has seen it. I rub my fingers across the encouraging words he left for me.
“Looks like I made an impression.”
I can’t ever catch a break. Resigned, I look up into Knox’s sparkling baby blues. He’s shaved since arriving or rather someone shaved him plus cut his hair. I don’t show my disappointment. “You caught me.”
“Did I? What did I catch you doing?”
Wow, so he wants me to say it out loud. I know I said I wanted to wait until after the competition, but a little harmless flirting won’t hurt. I try to present a coy smile. “I think you know exactly what I was doing? And what I was thinking.” I try waggling my eyebrows but from Knox’s confused look, I’m not certain I was successful.
“Are you flirting with me? Or trying to?”
“Shut up,” I hiss, looking around. I stand and grab his hand, scanning around for some privacy. I drag him along toward the unisex bathroom. We pass Mike on the way and Knox’s hand stiffens in mine.
Mike only waves, a knowing smile plastered on his face.
When we get to the room, I open the door and peer in, ensuring it’s not occupied. I pull on Knox’s hand, and he spits out, “Are you sure? You don’t want to piss off your boyfriend.”
To get some leverage because he has a good half a foot and at least forty pounds on me, I step on the inseam of his foot and push him through the door, dragging him to the biggest stall at the end.
“I see you’re resorting to out-and-out violence now. You’ve stooped quite low, Amber.”
“Mike isn’t my boyfriend. I already told you that.”
“But last night, you–”
“For fuck’s sake, Knox. I was eating my first meal in nearly two days when he came into the restaurant looking for his own dinner. I didn’t want him to join me, but I didn’t want to be rude either.”
Knox stares at me a long moment, then takes a couple of steps toward me. “But he called you in Austin. He has your phone number.”
“A lot of people have my phone number, but that doesn’t mean they’re my boyfriend.”
“I don’t have your number.”
The air has shifted now. Thickened and swelled. The bathroom door opens and someone comes in and enters one of the stalls. I unnecessarily place a finger over Knox’s lips and look at our feet, hoping the person doesn’t peer under our stall.
The person runs water in the sink, then the door opens and closes again.
When I glance back up at Knox, his eyes have changed, darkened.
“You’ve never asked for my number.” There are mere inches between us but I can’t back up. The space is small.
“Tell me what happened with Mike.”
Damn, he’s a broken record with this Mike thing. What does it matter? “Nothing. We went out a couple of times, talked on the phone a couple of times. He’s a friend.”
“Did you kiss him?”
“Erm, sort of?”
“Are you asking me, Amber? Fuck, you sound like Weston. Don’t you know if you kissed him or not?”
“Once.”
“So not your boyfriend, but more than a friend.”
“I’ve kissed you as many times as I’ve kissed Mike. Are you more than a friend, Knox?”
His hand stretches toward me, but he pulls it back before making contact, putting it into the pocket of his pants. His eyes are dark and intense, leveled directly at me. “We’re not even friends. Remember?”
Ouch. Fucking Knox. Why do I even put myself out
