Hot and Cold by Paige Notaro Read Free Book Online

think you would.”
    The conversation had tapered off after that. I looked at him now and just wanted to run into his arms. Why was I even wasting time on this competition? Soon we would only have the weekends together. I should be spending all the time I could with him.
    He must have seen it in my eyes, cause he winked and tipped his head at the door. I took a step, but he held up a hand.
    Soon, he mouthed. Soon.
    A couple minutes passed. The judges said some nice things and asked questions, and I answered quickly and cleanly. They murmured among each other.
    Finally, one by one, they sat back.
    “Mark,” the head judge said. “You want to start?”
    “I don’t think there’s much to say,” the instructor said. “It was interesting, and it did not offend me.”
    The crowd tittered, but my pulse sped up. That was practically a perfect mark from him.
    “Shaunda?” the head judge asked next. “What about you?”
    “You know how I feel, Harold,” she said. “This is the best damn soup I’ve ever eaten. And this cornbread, mmm mmm. I need another stomach just to fill up on it.”
    The crowd split between applause and laughter this time. My heart pounded in my ear. I waited for Harold.
    “As for me,” he shook his head at the soup. “I’m left at a loss.”
    He paused for an excruciating moment, then glanced up.
    “How’d you do it?”
    “What?” I said meekly.
    “It’s wonderful,” he said. “This mix that you used. Fiery and mild. Sour and sweet. New and old. It’s just a fantastic set of flavors and textures.”
    The crowd hollered behind me as much as any cooking show crowd could, but my mind wasn’t even here. It was back at the moment I got my first reaction - the most important one, from the man I cared most about.
    And he’d given it without saying a word.
    “I just got lucky,” I said, beaming at Sean. He looked like it was taking him every ounce of strength not to run over.
    “Well, it seems we did, too,” the head judge said. “Now I can run the numbers, but cooking’s not about that, and they’re certainly not needed in this case. Gabrielle, you are the winner of this year’s Cordon Competition.”
    The world blew into a happy haze of applause and camera flashes and trophies and handshakes. It wasn’t until Sean finally strode up and hugged me up into the air that the joy finally hit me. He kissed me right there in front of the audience.
    The head judge handed me a business card and extracted a promise for me to call. We took the check and the trophy and carried it out into the sunny lot.
    “I told you not to sweat it,” Sean said, rubbing my shoulders.
    “I recall I told you the same thing,” I said. “Neither of us listens.”
    “Just another thing we have in common.”
    My dark sedan was parked off in the employee lot of the studio, which lay barren now that it was the weekend.
    I opened a rear door and beamed as my statue glinted in the sun. It was a small thing. It wouldn’t give me a ranking of nine in the Midwest like Sean’s win did. But it was a start. That’s all I could ask for.
    As I placed it gingerly in the rear seat, a hand landed firmly on my butt and shoved me in after it.
    “Hey, what the-“
    I squirmed to turn around. Sean climbed in after me and shut the door.
    “These things are roomy,” he said, looking around.
    “Sean, what the hell?”
    “I didn’t want to wait to give you your victory present,” he said. “Especially considering I’ve got it right here with me.”
    I was frustrated for the second it took me to figure out his meaning. Then I became keenly aware that I was already on my back, with my skirt half up my waist. He was looming over me like King Kong - a hard dark wall, blocking my path.
    “The windows are tinted too,” I said softly.
    “Frankly,” he said, clambering atop me. “I wouldn’t have a given a fuck either way.”
    His body came down on mine, and his kiss found my neck. My lips moved uselessly in a sigh, my body