Page 45

“You watch this?”

“No.”

Ash glanced pointedly at the list. “You have six episodes recorded.”

“The television records things automatically.”

It was a lie so bad neither of us bothered pretending to believe it.

“All from the same season?”

I reached for my beer and took a deliberately unhurried drink. “I don't know how technology works.”

“You play video games.”

“Different technology.”

His mouth twitched, but before he could argue, the show cut back to one of the contestants carrying an elaborate three-tiered cake across the kitchen.

We both watched as his foot caught on something, the cake tipped, and the entire thing hit the floor.

A noise of genuine distress escaped me before I could stop it.

Ash slowly turned his head, and I could feel the delight radiating off him without even looking.

“Don't.”

“You care.”

“I do not.”

“You absolutely care. That noise was emotional.”

“He spent four hours on that.”

Ash shrugged. “So?”

I finally looked at him, appalled by his complete lack of sympathy. “The ganache was perfect.”

Silence.

It lasted just long enough for me to realize what I'd said.

When I glanced over, Ash was staring at me as though I'd just confessed to some deeply compromising secret.

“Not one word.”

His grin started slowly before spreading across his whole face. “Max Renaud watches competitive baking.”

“I'll trade you before Game Three.”

“You can't. Deadline’s passed.”

“I'll find a way.”

His shoulders were shaking now, and something warm settled in my chest at the sight of him like this. I hadn't realized how much I'd missed seeing him laugh without anything guarded underneath it until I was sitting here watching it happen in my living room.

“I’m telling Cole.”