“Yeah,” she said, giving Vera a reassuring smile. “We’ll be fine.”
“Don’t forget to high-five,” Vera told them.
Ah yes. The closure ritual. Jasmine looked to Ashton, who wore an unreadable expression. Without a word, they raised their hands and slapped them together.
Except their timing was off. She’d started too early, and he hadn’t put enough force into it. Probably trying not to hurt her. Either way, it was a pretty poor showing as far as high fives went.
“Awesome.” Ilba grabbed her things. “Let’s get you two into hair and makeup.”
Jasmine followed her out. Maybe the makeup brushes would wash away the feel of Ashton’s strong fingers on her skin. The last thing she needed was his phantom caresses plaguing her all day.
The man was an enigma, albeit a sexy one. If she were smart, she’d keep her distance.
Too bad Jasmine had never been smart when it came to men.
Chapter 11
CARMEN IN CHARGE
EPISODE 3
Scene: Carmen’s mother teaches Victor to cook.
INT: Serranos’ kitchen—NIGHT
Carmen staggered into the basement-level kitchen of her parents’ Spanish Harlem brownstone, loaded down with heavy shopping bags. Victor and her mother, Dahlia Serrano, stood at the kitchen island calmly chopping vegetables together.
“Didn’t you two already go to the grocery store?” Carmen complained. “Why did I have to make another trip after work? The lines were unbelievable.”
“We want Victor to win, no? Pues, necesitamos un side dish.”
Carmen rolled her eyes, but began unloading the groceries into the fridge. “What are you making?” She made a show of sniffing the air. “It smells like a garlic farm exploded in here.”
“We’re making mofongo,” Victor replied with a grin.
“Ah, your favorite.” Carmen pulled an open bottle of whitewine from the refrigerator and poured herself a glass. “I can’t count how many times you came to bed reeking of garlic after eating Mami’s mofongo.”
“I can’t help it if Dahlia is an amazing cook.” He shot his ex-mother-in-law a dashing grin, which Dahlia totally fell for. She trilled a little laugh and patted the side of Victor’s face.
“Ay, muchacho, we missed you around here,” she said, then snapped up a spare apron and tossed it to Carmen. “Póntelo, nena. Those plátanos aren’t going to peel themselves.”
“Isn’t this cheating?” Carmen grumbled, but she tied the apron on over her dress. “Victor’s going to have to do all this himself during the competition.”
“It’s not like you’re a master chef either,” Victor pointed out with a smile. “You could also stand to learn.”
“Oh, I knowhowto make mofongo,” she retorted. “You think I could get away with not helping my mom cook? Inthishouse?”
“So what happened?” He leaned in closer while Dahlia rinsed greens in the sink. “You never cooked for me.”
Carmen gave a sassy little shrug. “Not the best use of my time,” she said primly. “Some of us had to work.”
He leaned his hip on the counter and ducked his head closer to hers. “That’s not fair,” he said in a low voice. “I didn’t become an international pop star by accident. I had demands on my time too.”
Carmen stilled. She set down the plátano in her hands, and with a deliberate movement, turned her face toward his. Their gazes locked, and all traces of teasing and frustration melted from her expression.
This was a big moment. They’d practiced it multiple times during rehearsal, and Ilba had told them it would be a big close-up: the moment when Carmen and Victor connected emotionally. Again.
“I know,” Carmen said in a soft voice. “You’re right. We were both... unavailable.”
