A Recipe for Misunderstanding

The sign over the square read: "Welcome to Bramble Ridge Harvest Fair." Bria ducked under it with a crate balanced against her hip. The scent of cinnamon and fried dough was in the air. The low sound of conversation was all around her. It was the same scene every year. The same booths in the same spots, the same people walking around, and the same expectations.

She set her crate on the long wooden table in front of her and took a deep breath.

“Morning, Bria,” Mrs. Winston called out from two tables away. “You’re here early.”

“I like having a few minutes to think before the chaos starts,” Bria said with a laugh.

She reached for the registration clipboard that was hanging on a hook near the edge of the cooking area. Teams were listed in even columns down the page.

She scanned down the page once and then again.

Her name was there halfway down the page.

Dalton/Hayes.

Bria blinked.

“No,” She said under her breath.

She moved the clipboard closer, hoping that the name next to hers was different. It wasn’t.

“Is there a problem?”

The voice behind her made her shoulders tighten before she turned around.

Colter Hays leaned against the post with his arms crossed. He looked the same as he always did. Sun-tanned skin, Sleeves rolled up to his elbows, that teasing half smile on his face.

It was annoying how handsome he looked.

“Tell me this is a mistake,” Bria tipped the clipboard towards him.

He pushed off the post and stepped over next to her. Glancing at the clipboard.

“Hmm,” He tipped his head to the side. “Looks like they spelled my name right.”

She turned towards him. “I didn’t sign up for a partner.”

He shrugged, “Neither did I.”

Bria put the clipboard back on its hook and crossed her arms. “I’m not competing with you.”

Colter’s smile got bigger like something in that sentence amused him.

“Competing with me,” He repeated. “Darlin, it looks like you are stuck competing with me.”

“Don’t call me that,”

“I have called you worse,” He said.

“You have not.”

“Ok, I have thought worse.”

She stared at him.

He grinned. It was the kind of grin that made people forgive him that probably shouldn’t have.

Bria looked back at the paper, hoping it said something different.

She then turned to him.

“Fix it,” she said. “Go talk to whoever is in charge.”

Colter grinned again, “And miss out on spending the whole afternoon with you, telling me I am doing everything wrong?”

“You will be doing everything wrong.”

He shrugged, “Then you'd better be my partner.”

She huffed and started to turn away from him.

“I am serious.”

“So am I,” he said.

She stopped and looked at him.

He wasn’t joking.

Not really.

His smile was still there, but there was something in his eyes that made Bria pause.

There was clapping behind them.

“Alright, Folks, “Mayor Whitlow called near the center of the square. His voice carried easily over the crowd. “First round of the cooking competition starts in ten. If your name is on the first page you are in, no last-minute changes.”

She looked at the Dalton/Hayes on the paper again.

“No,” she whispered.

Colton leaned closer; he didn’t touch her, but she could feel his warm breath on her neck. She shivered.

“Relax,” He said. “We can survive one afternoon.”

She glanced at him.

“You say that like we have a great track record.”

His mouth tipped up again, into a slow and easy grin.

We haven’t ruined anything yet.” He said.

She looked at him longer than she wanted to.

Then she turned and picked up her crate.

“Give it time,” She muttered.

He laughed loudly.

Something in her chest gave a little jolt.

“Don’t slow me down,” She said, walking to their assigned space.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He said as he started walking behind her.

She didn’t need to look back to know he was right there.

She could feel him, and that was a problem.

***

The cooking stations were lined up in a row on the other side of the square. Bria looked at each one until she found their name on Table Seven. She set her crate down with more force than necessary.

Colter walked up like he had all the time in the world.

She started pulling ingredients from her crate.

“I already have a recipe in mind,” She told him.

Colter leaned his hip against the table and watched her like she was the most interesting person around.

“You have always been so organized,” he said.

She didn’t look at him, “And you have always been impulsive, thinking it's charming.”

“Hasn’t failed me yet.”

‘It has,’ She said sharply.

The silence stretched between them for a moment.

Then Colter reached into her crate and pulled out a squash, turning it in his hands.

“We need something impressive to win.”

She looked over and glared at him, “I have a recipe already planned. We are not winning if you want to change things now.”

He smiled at her, “You secretly like it when I am impulsive and change things.”

“I don’t.”

She looked at him and grew more irritated.

“Cut the squash into even pieces.”

“Yes, Sargent.’

“Don’t call me that.”

He picked up the knife that she had put on the table. “You give orders like one.”

Bria grabbed the flour and turned away from him. She heard the steady sound of a knife hitting the cutting board and glanced back over at him.

Colter was slicing the squash like he knew what he was doing.

“You’ve cut squash before,” she said.

“Once or twice,” he shrugged.

“It would have been nice to know that,” She said back.

“You didn’t ask.”

He set the squash beside her, reached for the skillet, and set it on the small burner.

“You are heating that too fast,” she said.

“It’s fine.”

“It’s going to burn,” Her voice raised.

“It won’t,” he said.

She watched him drizzle oil in the pan and turn the burner down slightly.

She noticed.

He then grabbed the squash and tossed it in the pan, and it started to sizzle.

“You are overcrowding them.” She said.

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not,” She yelled.

“Give it a minute.” He said calmly.

She crossed her arms.

Colter let the squash sit in the pan untouched. The edges started to caramelize a little before he moved them.

His movements were steady and intentional.

Bria raised her eyebrows.

“You have cooked squash before,” She said.

“A couple of times,” he replied.

“You could have told me.”

“You didn’t ask.”

She let out a breath and went back to the flour. Using precise measurements, she poured it into a bowl. She reached for the salt at the same time that Colter did. Their hands nearly brushed. Bria stopped short, fingers over his.

Colter paused, too, close enough she could feel the warmth of his skin.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then Bria moved her hand back and gripped the counter instead.

“I had it,” She said.

Colter glanced at her and then at the space between them. “Yeah, looked like it.”

“Then why didn’t you say something?” She asked.

“Like what?

“Like, go ahead.”

He nodded. “Ok, go ahead.”

She shot him a look, “It doesn’t count now.”

“Yeah, timing has never been my strong suit.”

“No,” She said, reaching over and grabbing the salt. Measuring it exactly. “It hasn’t.”

The words came out sharper than she meant.

Colter didn’t say anything right away. Behind him, the squash continued to caramelize. He stirred it slowly once.

“What is that supposed to mean?” He finally said.

Bria shrugged, eyes on the bowl. “Nothing.”

“That didn’t sound like nothing.”

“It’s not important.”

He let out a quiet breath. “Feels like it is.”

She hesitated.

Then said it because she wasn’t done making things worse.

“You have always joked but were careful with me.”

Colter gave a short laugh. “Yeah, you're my best friend’s sister.”

“There it is,” She said.

He frowned. “There, what is?”

“That,” She gestured towards him. “That’s exactly it.”

“I don’t follow.”

“You’ve always treated me like Bryan’s sister,” She stopped, but then continued fast. “Not like you were ever interested in me.”

Colter blinked at her.

“…Bria.”

“What?”

“You can’t actually think that?”

“I don’t think it,” She said. “I know it.”

He let out a breath. “I have spent years trying not to make it obvious.”

“Obvious about what?” She stared at him.

“About liking you,” he said. “What do you think?”

“No,” She said.

“Yes.”

“No, “she repeated, shaking her head. “You joke with me, but you flirt with every other woman. You have never flirted with me.”

He stepped closer to her.

“I didn’t flirt with you,” he said, more serious than she had ever seen him. “Because I thought you didn’t want me to.”

She stared at him. “Why would you think that?”

“Because you are always…” He gestured at her. “Like this.”

“Like what?”

“Polite. Distant. Like, I am your brother's best friend.

Her chest tightened.

“I thought that was what you only wanted to be.”

He shook his head. “Bria, I never made a move because I thought you weren’t interested.”

“And I thought you didn’t ever make a move because you weren’t interested.”

Silence stayed between them. They just stared at each other. The pan sizzled behind them, but neither one of them checked it.

“You're serious,” Colter said quietly.

“You’re not?”

He let out a short breath. “I have been trying not to cross a line for years.”

“I have been waiting for you to.” She said.

He rubbed his hand across his neck. Neither one of them is talking again.

***

The pan sizzled louder. Bria heard it and snapped her back into the cooking competition. The reason they are here.

“Your squash.” She said, turning quickly.

“Right,” Colter muttered, turned, and stirred the squash a little. He didn’t grin or smile like before.

Bria went over to the bowl and continued measuring and adding ingredients. She picked up a spoon and stirred with steady, controlled movements.

Control. That was something she understood.

Beside her, Colter lowered the temperature on the squash. She noticed but didn’t say anything.

For a few seconds, the only sounds were the scrape of the spoon and the crackle of the pan, and the low conversations of the other competitors around them.

“More thyme,” Colter said after a moment, not looking at her.

She added it without questioning it or saying anything. That was new.

“Thanks,” Colter said, looking over at her briefly.

She nodded, “Don’t get used to it.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

Brie reached for a plate, Colter got there first, and handed it to her. Their hands brushed, and neither one of them moved away.

They worked like that for a while. Handing things back and forth without asking, adjusting spices or ingredients without saying a word. Moving around the space as they have always done for years.

“Careful,” Colter said as she reached past him.

“I am careful,” She said

“Not about this,” he glanced down at the pan on the stove. “The heat's climbing.”

She reached over and turned down the dial slightly.

“Better?” She asked him.

He nodded. “Better.”

Neither of them moved for a second.

“We are going to win,” he said. It wasn’t cocky. Just saying a fact.

Bria huffed. “Don’t say that out loud.”

“Why not?”

“That’s how you lose.”

He smiled at her. “Or how you don’t.”

She shook her head. “Still impulsive.”

“Still here,” he replied.

Bria looked down at the dish to steady herself. She looked up at him.

“Plate it,” she said.

“Yes, sergeant.”

She shot him a look.

He grinned.

She didn’t stop the smile she gave him back.

***

Bria wiped her hands on a clean cloth and stepped back from the table. Looking at the plated dish in front of them.

“Alright,” She said more to herself than him. “It’s done.”

“Looks good,” Colter said.

“It does,” She agreed.

A bell rang from the square.

“Time!” Yelled the mayor. “Bring your dishes forward.”

The competitors all started moving at once, grabbing dishes and making their way down the aisle to the judges' table.

Bria picked up the dish carefully with potholders and started moving. Colter moved in behind her without saying anything.

They reached the table holding the other dishes, and she set it down among them. Some looked better than others, but she thought theirs might have a chance.

The judges stepped up, started tasting, talked to each other, and wrote notes on paper no one could see.

Bria crossed her arms and then uncrossed them. Finally, she just put her hands in her pockets. Colter stood beside her without saying anything for a moment, then leaned over and whispered.

“Breath.”

Bria didn’t realize she was holding her breath. She let it out in a rush.

When the final plates were set aside, the head judge stepped up and cleared his throat.

“Alright, Folks,” he said, voice carrying easily through the crowd. “We have some strong entries this year.”

A small cheer went up.

Bria felt her shoulders tense.

“Relax,” Colter leaned over and murmured. “We got this.”

She glanced at him but didn’t say anything.

The judge announced third place and then second. Applause and groans went through the crowd.

“Now for first place,” the judge said after it got quiet again.

“Team Dalton and Hayes.”

Bria just stood for a moment. Not realizing what she heard. She turned to Colter, who was grinning.

“What?” she asked.

“Looks like we work well as a team,” he said.

She stared at him a moment longer and then let out a laugh before she could stop it. The tension of the day loosened.

They stepped up together to accept the ribbon. It was a bright blue cloth with a large "1st place" in white.

“Great job,” the judge said as he handed it to her. “You cook together like you have been doing it for years.”

They looked at each other, and both grinned, not saying anything to the judge about that.

***

The crowd broke from the judging area and went to enjoy the rest of the fair.

Bria stood at the edge of the square with the ribbon wrapped around her fingers. She was watching the crowd move through the entertainment, but wasn’t really paying attention.

Colter walked up beside her.

“Still processing?” he asked.

“A little,” she admitted.

“Winning does that.”

“It's not the winning.”

“No?” he said.

She shook her head and looked at him. “You know it’s not.”

For a moment, neither of them said anything.

Colter shifted, sliding his hands in his pockets like he didn’t know what to do with them.

“So,” he said.

Bria raised her brows. “So?”

He shook his head and gave a small laugh. “This is where I say something smooth.”

“And?”

“And I am realizing I might have used up all my good lines earlier.”

“That’s disappointing.”

“I know,” he said. “I had a reputation to maintain.”

Smiled a little. “You still have it.”

“Good,” he said. “I would hate to ruin that now.”

Another pause between them.

“So, he said again. “Now that we have cleared up several years of being completely wrong.”

“Have we?”

“Working on it at least,” he said.

“Ok, I will give you that.”

He tilted his head, looking at her.

“You busy tomorrow?

It was direct—no joke or flirting.

Bria blinked.

“Depends?”

He looked at her. “On what?”

She gave a small grin. “If you are asking as my brother's friend. Or as something else?”

Colter’s mouth moved up.

“Definitely not as your brother's friend.”

“Good,” she said. “I’m not busy.”

His grin widened.

“Alright then. I will pick you up.”

She shook her head. “You're very confident.”

“We just won a cooking contest together,” he said. “I think I have a pretty good shot.”

She considered that for a moment. Then stepped closer to him.

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“No promises.”

She smiled.