“Choux’s a difficult one to master. Although it wasn’t the pastry per se.”
“No? So you just wanted to play favorites?”
“Are you seriously questioning my professional judgement, Ms. Parker?”
“I must admit, it’s tempting. But you obviously know your stuff.”
Jake hesitated while weighing up his options. He’d decided earlier not to say anything but… “You’d used salt instead of sugar in the filling.”
Molly turned to look at him, her expression one of horror. “What the heck? I did not! You’re so full of shit.”
He suppressed a smile as she came to a stop at a red light, her indignation on full display. “You did.”
“Are you serious? I used salt in my pastry cream?”
“Didn’t you taste it?”
“Noo. Oh my gosh! I’m so embarrassed right now.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Hold on a minute, you’re kidding me, aren’t you?”
Jake set his smile free. Despite their circumstances, he found himself liking Molly more and more. Regardless of her outward elegance, she seemed an earthy, no-bullshit kind of girl. Just his type. “Would I do that?”
“I don’t know. Would you?”
“Ouch. You wound me.”
“I meant to.”
“Um, the light’s turned green.” Jake chuckled—his natural reaction to anything and everything when he’d been drinking. Molly shifted into first and glanced in the rearview mirror before crossing the intersection of an almost deserted street. “You’re a decent baker, but baking under pressure isn’t easy.”
“Yes, and it’s not something I care to repeat in a hurry. Still, it’s my own fault for letting CeCe talk me into it.” She shifted into third, then second as she turned onto Whitman Avenue. “And I’m glad Mason won. He deserved it.”
“He did. But your cheese scones… I’d happily sell them in the patisserie any day of the week.”
Another glance his way. “Even with the sugar?”
“I sweeten mine too. You’re right. It improves the flavor. Who taught you to bake?”
“Mum and Grandma. They’re both amazing bakers. As a kid, I wanted to own a cake shop when I grew up.”
That surprised Jake. “But you’re employed by Lime Tree Hill as well as SpinWeb?”
“No. Mitch Harrington’s my cousin, so I said I’d lend a hand.”
“Right. I met him for the first time earlier. He seems like a decent guy.”
“Yes, he is. Lots of fun too.”
“Take the next left onto Cornwell Place. We’re at the end of the cul-de-sac, number ten.”
As Molly pulled into the curb, Jake contemplated asking her in before rapidly questioning his motives. Quite aside from the fact it was his mother’s house, Molly wasn’t his to have, even if she agreed to only one night. And he always did this when he’d been drinking—left his responsible self out in the cold in favor of Jake the carefree fantasist. He had to remember that when it came to Molly Parker, the world was not his oyster.
Alongside the mailbox, Molly put the car in neutral but left the engine idling, and as he turned to look at her, the faint scent of her perfume had an unexpected effect on his senses.
Earlier, he’d been a judge and she a contestant, and if he was honest, the alpha in him had enjoyed that position. Now they were back on more equal footing, and he found it just as interesting. There was something almost primal about wanting a woman you couldn’t, orshouldn’t,have, especially when alcohol was involved, and at that moment, he wanted Molly Parker with every fiber of his being.
With her hand still resting on the steering wheel, Molly tilted her head toward the house. “Your place looks amazing.”
“Thanks, but it’s not mine. I’m cat-sitting for my mother while she’s away.” Jake opened his door. “Anyway, thanks for the ride. Much appreciated. After your elimination today, I thought I’d be number one on your mortal enemy list.”
