There was that New York attitude. Tell it like it is. As Henry turned to lean against the counter—and get himself squarely out of Willa’s sights before she came for him—he saw Tristan standing alone, poring over the list with furrowed brows. Of course he was that hot guy, too good to even pretend to mingle. Henry rolled his eyes. Maybe it wasn’t nice, but there’d certainly besomeappeal in trouncing Tristan. Partially because hewasso good. But, also, it would once and for all put them into a hierarchy. If Henry won head to head? There’d be no question who was the better baker.
Now all that remained was winning.
Tristan stood under the hot, pelting flow of water, letting it drain in rivulets off his hair and down his body. The hotel soap and shampoo smelled like coconut.That explains Henry.Everyone would probably smell like coconut while they were here, which was a way better option than just Henry.
He leaned his forehead against the stone-tiled wall. The issue at hand wasn’t who smelled like what. The coconut scent was an inconvenient coincidence. He was attracted to Henry fucking Isaacson because the pastry-shop-owning bastard was sexy as hell, with chocolate eyes and skin the color of slivered almonds and clove-colored hair. He was a piece of cake Tristan wanted to eat. And he could bake. Damn it, he could bake. That skillset didn’t make Henrylesssexy, to be sure. The thought of him flexing his arms while kneading dough or whipping the crap out of some cream... maybe in nothing but an apron ...
Tristan turned the water off, grabbed a towel, and dried himself enough that he wouldn’t slip and die walking out. He stopped in front of the full-length mirror next to the door. Without his glasses, even his own reflection was slightly blurry. A better view. No scars showed up when he was blurry. All the cigarette burns and deep-cut belt marks vanished.
Oh, it’s late and I’m alone. Of course my brain’s dredging up the past.He pulled a white, fluffy bathrobe out of the closet.Let’stryto relax.He slipped it over his shoulders, then dropped onto the bed. He grabbed his glasses first, then his phone. On with the glasses and he dialed the house again.
It picked up after one ring. “Hello?”
“Hey, it’s me.”
“I know, you have caller ID.” Lucia sighed. “Long day?”
“Not too bad. I wanted to hop in the shower before I called, though.”
“Are you talking to me naked?”
“I’m in a bathrobe.” He rolled his eyes. “Did Karen show up?”
“Yep. It’s like a big slumber party, now.” Her voice dripped sarcasm. “How did everything go? Come on, you’re on a TV show, you’re in California. Who cares about what’s happening in the boring old Seattle apartment?”
“Well, I do. It’s my house, and my little sister’s living there while I’m gone.” He chuckled. “But okay. I met Dexter Wilson today. Kind of.”
“TheEverything You Need to Know About Bakingguy?”
“Yeah. And he’s as gorgeous as in his pictures.” Not Tristan’s type—like Eli, Dexter was too put together and clean around the edges—but he was objectively attractive.I guess I like them scruffy. And infuriatingly arrogant. And maybe I like it when they own stupid pastry shops too.“They gave us the rundown of what we’re going to have to cook, so that’s helpful.”
“Anything tricky?”
“The bread round might be a bit of a challenge.” He was apastrychef. He worked in sugar and chocolate and spices, not yeast and rye. “I’ll make it work, though. They give us a few days to practice, so I think I can figure it out.”
“You’ll do great. You know how to make bread, Tristan. I’ve been eating your homemade bread all weekend.”
“That’s with a bread machine.” His best garage-sale find, bar none. “I don’t see them letting us use one here.”
“Hey. Don’t psych yourself out. You didn’t make it in because you’re bad at baking, right?”
“Right.”
“Right, Tristan? If you’re going to lie, make me believe it.”
“Makemebelieve it and we’ll talk.”
“Oh, come on. You do this all the time. Something good happens and you sit there and worry the fun out of it. You got picked to go be an awesome pastry man on national TV. Enjoy yourself for a little bit. Take in the sights. Get blisteringly high. Sleep around, maybe. Something. Or else I’ll find my way down there and yell at you in front of the fancy chef people.”
Tristan stifled a laugh. There wasn’t a ton of sightseeing time in his schedule, and he didn’t partake of weed often enough to ever get “blisteringly high.” And as for sleeping around... he didn’t need to spread the clusterfuck that was the Delgado family’s track record with men across state lines. Besides, he was currently swearing off men again, specifically to avoid winding up with a bastard like his father or Robert. “I’ll do my best. But no promises.”
“I’ll let it go this time.”
“So can I talk to Karen real quick?”
“About me?”
Of course about you.“I want someone to check in with Carlita. I haven’t been able to get hold of her and she wanted updates.”
