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“Maybe that’s because you couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn with a rope if you tried,” Hunter shot back. I hadn’t even realized he’d woken up from his stupor, but he was alert now and fixing Graham with a glare.
Graham returned it with a withering stare of his own and then a dismissive grunt. Turning toward us in his seat, just enough to block Hunter from his view, he picked his cell off the table and handed it to me.
“Why don’t you put your number in there, beautiful?” he asked, turning back on the oozing charm with very little effort. “Maybe we could hang sometime.”
I ran my fingers over the edge of his phone, a hard pit forming in my stomach. A glance up at Lexi’s barely contained smile told me Operation Cowboy was succeeding. But a look down the table at Hunter made the pit turn into a gnawing mass. He was staring straight ahead, rage simmering in his eyes, the muscles in his jaw clenched tight. His fingers curled into white-knuckled fists as he crossed his arms over his chest.
Hunter obviously didn’t like this guy. And if Hunter didn’t like him, there was a good reason for it. But Lexi had her heart set on finding me a cowboy to help with the competition. And maybe having a little extra motivation to win, besides stomping Sarah, couldn’t hurt after all.
My gut was pulling me in two different directions. It was impossible to make a decision. But then my alarm went off on the cell phone in my pocket, erasing all thoughts about putting my number into strange boys’ phones.
“That’s my pie,” I said, sliding Graham’s cell back onto the table.
Hurrying toward the oven, I bit the inside of my cheek in excitement. In all probability, it still had a few minutes to go. I’d set the timer early just to make sure I didn’t over cook it. Brown sugar pies were easy to burn. If my toast disaster at the diner had taught me anything, it was to always set the oven for a shorter time. I wouldn’t make that mistake again.
Not when the stakes were so high.
But, as I opened the door to my oven, a nasty, burnt smell filled the air. I gasped in horror, finding the top of my pie black as Ms. Gentry’s dress. It had burned! After everything I’d done. After all the prep. It just didn’t make sense.
Cursing under my breath, I quickly grasped a pair of potholders and reached for my pie. It was hot. Scorching hot. And my speed had made me careless with the potholders. Flinging the pie onto the table, I shoved my burnt finger in my mouth and whimpered in disappointment.
My pie was ruined. Wrecked. A disaster.
So much for that perfect score.
“Oh, no! What happened? Did it burn?” Sarah gasped in horror at my pie still steaming on the tabletop as she turned from checking on her own in the little oven next to mine. With a slight shrug of her shoulders, she made a disappointed sigh. “I should’ve warned you not to leave your post. I had the feeling something bad would happen. That’s what happens when we get careless.”
Something about her condescending tone set my hackles off. But I had no time to address it. Ms. Gentry was in front of the tables again, fixing all of us with a firm frown.
“Just a few minutes remaining, ladies. Please bring your pies to the judging table for your marks.”
With adrenaline racing through my veins, I snatched a fork from my supply bag and quickly began scraping off the burnt top of my pie. Maybe the awful flavor hadn’t reached all the way down to the crust. If I could salvage what was left of it, I might still get a decent score.
I did what I could to save it. It was like a pie ICU. I could practically hear the vital monitors beeping in the background, warning me of impending death if I didn’t move quickly. An artful swirl of whipped cream on the top was the last touch I could think of to distract from the mess I’d made on top of my beautiful pie. With a nervous smile, I delivered the dish to the judging table and stood back to watch the boys eat.
“How’d you do?” Geminia appeared at my elbow, still sporting some flour on her nose and cheeks.
I dragged the tips of my fingers down over my face. “Somehow, I scorched it. I don’t even know how it happened. I was so careful with my timer. Now, I’m just hoping I took off enough of the burnt part so they don’t give me last place.”
A little line appeared between her eyes as she frowned. “Did you set the right temp?”
“Yes, of course.” I gestured over my shoulder at the oven. “Three hundred and twenty-five, just like the recipe said...”
But when my eyes landed on the oven that was still on, it didn’t say three hundred and twenty-five degrees. It was at four fifty. Way higher than on my mom’s recipe card.
“Uh, oh.” Geminia was frowning at the oven, too. “I sense sabotage...and it smells like a burnt pie.”
Rage broiled in my stomach. It was no wonder Sarah’s comments had set me off. She’d messed with my oven. She’d burned my pie. And now, she was going to win the competition with her nauseating little heart-covered cinnamon apple pie. It was so wrong, I almost wanted to vomit right then and there.
“She can’t do this.” I took a step forward, as the guys began to taste the first pie. “It isn’t right.”
Geminia’s hand wrapped around my wrist, gently pulling me back. “You can’t do this here, Charlotte.”
I resisted her tug and took another step in Sarah’s direction. “Why? Everyone lets her get away with everything. She needs to fess up for once.”
“You know Ms. Gentry wouldn’t approve and you’d lose even more points.” I looked back at her and her brown eyes drilled into mine with compassion. “Come on, let’s bide our time and get our own kind of revenge. What do you say?”
As crazy mad as Sarah’s deception made me feel, it was nice to have Geminia unquestioningly backing me. The girls I’d hung out with this year had always taken Sarah’s side. Now, I didn’t feel so alone.
