“I know my way around a kitchen better than you ever will,” I retort, although the

words feel hollow even as I spit them out.

“Abby, Abby, Abby,” he tuts, pushing off from the counter to take another step

closer. “You can barely navigate your way out of a paper bag. This competition?

It’s not for the weak. It’s not for the passionless. And it’s definitely not for

someone who can’t tell nutmeg from cardamom.”

His words are like a slap to the face, a reminder of the humiliation on stage. Of

Logan’s disappointment. Of Vanessa’s confused expression. Of the tiramisu that

now represents my biggest failure, all on live television.

Enter title…

Logan turns to leave, his posture as casual as ever as he saunters over toward

if this is

suddenly have

why you’re

outshine you. That a woman, of all people,

And you can’t stand

the briefest

in his shoulders. It’s so quick that I almost miss

slowly turns around, and there’s that signature smirk of his again, but

the hollowness behind

lifting his coffee cup to his lips. “As if

someone like…”

ask, placing my

a flash in his eyes. “Not just a

my fingers go cold from the sudden shock of his

me?” I grit

he states, taking a step toward me. His

and I find myself taking a shaky step back,

He chuckles. “A woman attempting to muscle her way into

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