Page 34 of The Baking Games

I grit my teeth and bend over to take my next shot, but the cue ball over-spins, causing me to stumble slightly. Nate's carefully casual words threw me off kilter more than I want to admit, got under my skin, and dredged up some memories and unresolved feelings I work hard daily to compartmentalize. But he's right.

This obsessive need for me to be the best and seize my own success with both hands without anybody helping me was born from tougher stuff than some idyllic family bakery business like Nate had. I'm desperate to prove my worth. I'm untethered from any legacies or connections in my own family. I just live with the gnawing pit of something to prove, and it all came from the lowest of lows that I have felt in my life, trying to make my own way by simultaneously living up to the opinions of others.

I suck in a sharp breath and straighten. "Save the couch therapy for someone who cares about that crap," I say flatly. "I'm here to bake circles around everyone and win this whole dang thing, plain and simple. I'm not interested in group hugs or swapping hard luck stories."

Nate simply shrugs as usual, smiling slightly and then taking his turn to smoothly pocket a couple of balls without breaking his laid-back facade. "Suit yourself, man. But you might find this whole ride a lot easier if you let a few folks in along the way instead of constantly trying to prove yourself as some kind of a tough guy lone wolf. I've been there, and it never ends up anywhere good."

I snort at that, already looking back at the table as he continues taking his shots. I'm temporarily lulled into calmness by the rhythmic cracks of ball against ball, but I will not drop my guard here. There's a fat chance of that, not when there's finally a shot at seizing a victory for myself and by myself. No, I'm going this one alone. Same as with everything else in my life up until now. Letting people get underneath my skin has only ended up in disappointment every other time before. This baking competition is my chance to prove myself on my own merits.

Nate pockets the final ball, and I stalk around the table, racking up for another punishing round. He's a lot better at this than he let on.

I'll show everybody here what I can do with my own unvarnished grit and determination, starting with nailing this first challenge tonight, like it's the only challenge that I've ever had in my entire life. I’ve been waiting for it.

SAVANNAH

The competition kitchen is buzzing with nervous energy as we all get situated at our stations. I look around and do one last check to ensure I have all the tools I think I'll need, trying not to let my shaky hands give away just how nervous I really am. Someone will leave after this first big challenge, mostly based on what the judges think of our work. It's enough to make my stomach twist into knots.

"Bakers!" Dan's over-the-top announcer voice reverberates around the room, cutting through the tension like a foghorn, as he strides with his big, long legs over to the center of the room. I swear it looks like he has stilts inside his pant legs. "Welcome to our very first main challenge. We're bringing the heat right out of the gate with a real scorcher, folks." I have no idea what he means by that. I think he just likes to say things for dramatic effect. I almost laugh but manage to hold it in.

He rubs his hands together under the bright lights. "For your first true test, you'll have just three hours to design and construct an edible masterpiece out of chocolate."

I look over and catch Rhett's intense glare. He gives me the tiniest of nods, probably imperceptible to anyone else, and I can tell he's already in competition beast mode from that furrowed brow. Somehow, his laser-focused determination actually helps me feel more confident.

"But hold onto your whisks,” Dan continues with an exaggerated wink at the cameras. "This is just the beginning, folks. These chocolate showpieces must embody the theme of movement in their design. Our very discerning judges over there,” he gestures toward the stern-faced panel, “will be critiquing your craftsmanship, creativity, technical skills, and, of course, the most important, taste factor."

Crap. That last part really cranks my heart rate up another notch. I look around at my fellow competitors. They all look stone-faced. How are they not dissolving inside? This high-pressure first challenge is finally hitting home for me. One of us gets cut today. Just like that. Goes home. It’s all over. End of the line. I can't let that happen. Still, I feel like screaming, bursting into tears, and running out of the kitchen. Anxiety is a beast.

"Before we get those mixers revving and crown our first winner, I want to address a couple of questions from the viewers at home on social media." Dan suddenly whips out a blue card from his jacket pocket, clearly milking the dramatic pause for all it's worth. He turns toward Lainey across the aisle. "This first one's for you, Lainey. Seems the audience can't get enough of those beautiful lashes and that perfect blowout. What are your beauty secrets?"

Lainey lets out a high-pitched giggle as she touches her hair extensions. I mean, come on. We all know they're extensions. "Oh, you know, just a lot of time and effort goes into looking this glamorous every day."

She bats her artificial eyelashes like two giant spiders stuck to her face. "I'd love to share all of my tips and tricks for achieving perfect hair and makeup." Suddenly, she starts droning on, detailing an excessive multi-step routine that probably costs more than my rent. I can't resist turning and looking at Rhett, rolling my eyes.

Her vapid answer finally stops, and an awkward silence settles over the room before Dan pipes up again. "Yes, well, that's fascinating stuff, Lainey. Now let's move on."

This is a live show. All the main challenges will be live. I'm sure the audience at home has fallen asleep or turned off their televisions. As he scans the next card, I can feel Rhett's eyes burning a hole in the side of my head. I throw him another glance, finding him smirking slightly, clearly assuming he's about to be the next target of Dan's interrogation.

But that amusement vanishes in a flash when Dan suddenly turns to me with a sly grin. "And this one's for our lovely Savannah, the only redhead in the bunch. Seems the viewers at home have already picked up on some potential romance brewing on the set." He wags his eyebrows as a few cat calls erupt from around the room. "So, the big burning question is, what's the real story behind the little hot tub incident the other night when Rhett may have caught you in a rather compromising position?"

What is he talking about? I feel the heat rush to my face as I'm instantly transported back to the hot tub just a couple of nights ago. I was in the hot tub by myself and noticed Rhett in the courtyard. Purely innocent so I don't really understand the big deal.

Again, I look over at Rhett, who looks just as uncomfortable as I feel. I can tell he's mortified to be forced to talk about anything like this on national television. I clear my throat and try to figure out what I will say. This is ridiculous. Nothing happened. Everybody watching on TV or their phones could tell that. Surely, people don't think something is going on between us. I can also tell that Rhett does not find this amusing. The idea of a romantic entanglement with me seems to be repulsive to him.

I suck in a breath, square my shoulders, and face the camera. "There is absolutely nothing romantic going on between Rhett and me. I can assure you of that. We can barely stand each other, much less have any kind of chemistry." Rhett's posture relaxes a bit, and he gives the smallest of nods. "The hot tub thing was just an awkward incident. I didn't know he was already out there. I slid out of my robe. I was wearing a bathing suit, as anyone could see, and I got into the hot tub. Sometimes, a girl just needs a break to gather her bearings. No scandal here, folks."

Rhett remains stone-faced, his earlier intensity already back now that the conversation is hopefully moving on. He's just as eager to put that awkward non-incident firmly in the past. "Well, that's not all. Viewers said they also saw Rhett holding you in his arms in the kitchen."

I feel like I want to throw up. How are these people misconstruing everything they see with their own eyes? "I fell off the counter while looking for a snack, and Rhett just happened to catch me."

Dan looks at the camera and winks again. "He just happened to be there."

They cut the camera to Rhett, who just stares at it like a deer in the headlights. He obviously has nothing he wants to say, so they cut back to me again.

"He kept me from busting my head open on the kitchen floor. For that, I'll always be appreciative." I say, looking over at him quickly and then back at the camera, "But nothing romantic. I hate to break it to everyone, but you won’t see any falling in love between me and Rhett Jennings. We’re both experienced pastry chefs who are here to win a competition. Plain and simple.”

It's at this moment that I realize this reality show is not at all about baking. Sure, we are all pastry chefs or self-taught bakers, but this is really about locking a bunch of people in a house and waiting for drama. And if they think they will get drama from me, it won’t happen.

CHAPTER 11