Page 32 of Sweet Rivals

“Absolutely not. There is only one winner here. I don’t want any of this fake camaraderie bullshit,” I said.

“I just think your sauce could use a little flour to thicken it up,” he said, grabbing an open bag and reaching in to pick out a pinch.

“Don’t you dare!” I held up my hand to ward off his meddling.

But he had already grabbed a handful of flour, and his fist bumped into my outstretched arm. He could have held onto the flour when our arms collided, but instead, he released the flour directly into my face.

I sputtered out the powder that coated my lips. “Are you a child?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I thought we were enemies. Aren’t I supposed thwart?”

“No, I am supposed to thwart,” I said before I heard myself sounding completely asinine. “Oh my god, why do you make me like this?” I lifted my hands in frustration before brushing the flour off my face.

“Maybe I just bring out the best in you?”

“The best in me? Are you out of your mind? Look at me! You make me angry and impulsive and…”

“Creative and driven and a little bit selfish?” he asked.

“Those aren’t compliments!”

“They are when you haven’t let yourself be like that since you were born,” he said.

“Do not act like you know me,” I said, turning to face him pointing my finger in his chest, as usual he stood too damn close. Why did he think he had a right to invade my personal space all the time? I could feel the heat coming off him and smell his cologne. His full lips pulled up into a half-smile as he leveled me with his piercing gaze that always made me feel vulnerable and exposed. “You don’t know anything about me,” I said with a little less gusto than I had the first time.

His insights were unfortunately becoming a habit. I was regretting pointing my finger again as I was tempted to spread my palm flat and see what the muscles underneath his shirt would feel like. The memory of our kiss once again floated to the surface. The way his hands had gripped my hips and neck. The way his lips pressed to mine firm but gentle. The way his body pressed against the length of mine. This man was everything I hated on every level. He was arrogant and selfish and thought the world owed him. He didn’t take anything seriously and wanted to spread his corporate greed to my little town. Yet, standing with him made me forget that too easily.

“You smell that?” he asked. The thick, heady tone of his voice didn’t match the words he said.

I couldn’t smell anything. The world had fallen away as I let myself get lost in the sensation of him. But then my sense of self-preservation kicked in and alarm bells clanged in my head.

“Shit!” I shouted. The caramel sauce I had been testing was a black bubbling mess that sent pillows of smoke to the ceiling. I pulled the pan from the stove and dropped it into the sink, letting the water harden the burnt mess. “Damn it! You did that on purpose!” I turned to him.

“How on earth did I burn your caramel?”

“You threw the flour at me and distracted me,” I said.

“A good cook doesn’t let herself get distracted in the kitchen.,”

“You know what?” I said, and before I finished my thought, my hand moved instinctively without the permission of my logical brain. I yanked the pull-down faucet from the sink and turned it in his direction so water sprayed all over his face and shirt. My frustration dissipated as the water made his t-shirt see-through, all of his muscles perfectly on display.

He shouted, holding up his hands. “Oh, you wanna play that game?” he asked with a wide grin as if the only thing he liked doing in the kitchen was goof-off, and he had finally been given the green light. He grabbed the plastic tub from the other sink that was filled with warm sudsy water and launched it over my head before I had a chance to run.

“You little shit!” I shouted as I launched after him. He had tossed the bucket and was skittering away across the kitchen. “To scared to face me?” I shouted after his retreating back.

He threw himself out the back door and down the steps to the beach. He looked like he was moving at a leisurely jog while I was huffing and puffing to catch up. When he made it down the backsteps and onto the sand, I leaped off the steps and onto his back, he stumbled before falling into the sand with my arms around the back of his neck and my legs wrapped around his torso.

“Ha!” I shouted in triumph from my position on top of him before he pushed himself, and me, up from the ground and rolled onto his back, pressing me against the sand. I squirmed as he turned himself over so he could face me. I pushed ineffectually at his chest before he wrapped his fingers around my wrist and pinned my arms above my head while trapping my lower half beneath his hips. I wriggled against him, trying to get free, before I realized with sudden mortification exactly what I was wriggling against. I froze, my face burning a bright red, as I finally looked at him.

His chest heaved with the effort of running and wrestling. We were both covered in flour, water, and sand, but somehow, the mess only made him look more ruggedly, casually handsome, which I didn’t think was possible. I swallowed hard past the growing lump constricting my throat. He didn’t say anything. He just held my arms above my head as he stared into my eyes and studied my face, his gaze lingering a little too long on my lips. My stomach tightened and heat spread through my whole body.

I hated this man, right? For some reason, I was having a hard time remembering exactly why as the weight of his muscled body pressed down firmly against me. Why wasn’t he saying anything? What was he thinking? Why did I suddenly desperately have to know the thoughts that left his eye dark and hungry?

“Am I … interrupting something?” The voice came from somewhere behind Jared. It was a voice I didn’t recognize, but Jared instantly stiffened and pushed himself off me.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Istood in the corner, trying to make myself invisible as if I were a child called to the principal's office. I studied the two men who were currently in a contest of who could look broodier. The resemblance was startling. If I didn’t know any better (because I had asked five minutes earlier), I would have thought they were twins. While Jared had long, messy hair, a five o’clock shadow, and casual clothes (still covered in the mess we had made), his brother had a clean fade, clean shave, and sharp, stylish clothes. They had barely spoken a word to each other since Joel had found us out back. Jared and Joel … was their mom trying to be cute? I wondered what their dad’s name was. I would have to look it up. Then I realized that I also fit the J theme and almost laughed out loud, but I was too busy being mortified by my unprofessionalism.