Chapter Seventeen

Pepper

“Pepper, we’d like to speak with you alone,” Barb says. After the competition ends, I stand with Carter, Barb, and the other judges in a small green room.

My stomach flips over, and a rush of anxiety snakes up my spine. Great. She’s going to shake my hand and tell me that I did well, but that they’ve chosen Carter.

“Okay,” I say, forcing a smile.

Barb leads me out of the green room and into what appears to be an office. She sits down behind the desk and gestures for me to sit in the squashy armchair in front of her. I sink down into the cushions, wishing I could disappear from my own life and not have to feel the disappointment that’s on the way.

“Pepper, we’re so pleased with your appetizer,” Barb says, spearing me with a steady glance that I can’t look away from. “But we had no idea that you knew Carter. It’s such an interesting fit.”

Fit? She’s got to be kidding me. I scan her expression for signs she’s teasing me.

“Yeah.” My knuckles are turning white from where I’m squeezing the arms of the chair so hard. “We’re, um…”

What are we? Enemies? Colleagues? Lovers? Ours is a relationship that defies definition.

“You don’t have to explain,” Barb says, shaking her head. “And you know, this might sound a little funny, but I think there is ratings gold in the two of you together. We talked with the executive producer and he agrees.”

I frown, not following her. “I…I don’t understand. What do you mean?”

Barb chuckles and shifts in her rolling chair. “Pepper, feel free to say no, but I had an idea as I watched the two of you. I’ve been in this reality TV game a long time, and I’ve got my finger on the pulse of what works.”

I wait on pins and needles for Barb to explain further. Maybe I haven’t lost the opportunity yet. Maybe I can have another chance.

“We were originally planning to pick one of you, then have a show featuring you as the new chef in town,” Barb says. “But when I saw you and Carter together, I knew that we had another option.”

“So…does this mean I’m not going home?”

Barb laughs. “Oh, good heavens no,” she says, smiling. “We loved your tuna tower. And we loved the way you and Carter worked around each other. The chemistry was through the roof! Did you hear the audience? They loved it. We had them fill out comment cards, and eighty-nine percent said they would watch a television show featuring you and Carter as a team.”

“I just assumed they were responding to the ‘applause’ sign,” I joke.

Barb laughs again. “No, they loved you. Both of you. Listen, Pepper, I can tell when something – or someone – is going to be a huge hit. I think you’ve got what it takes, and I’m confident that a show featuring you and Carter could climb the charts. We could all make a lot of money here. In addition to the fame. You could leverage the show once it has its run and basically write your own ticket in the food industry.”

Is that even possible? Things like this just don’t happen to Raelynn Higginbottom from bumfuck Kansas. “A show with both of us?”

Barb nods. She suddenly looks nervous, as if she’s waiting on pins and needles for my response. Power surges through me, where seconds ago, failure had lived. “I understand if you’re not interested. Again, feel free to say no, but I think it would really overwhelm the audience if you and Carter are together in a show.”

“So, we’d be working together? Me and Carter?”

“Not exactly,” Barb says. “You’d be in direct competition with each other.” She swallows and clears her throat. “And again, I understand if the possibility of that makes you feel…well, I understand if it makes you feel a little squeamish, given your dynamic with him.”

I feel a grin spread across my face. I can’t think of anything I’d love more than an opportunity to whip his pompous ass week after week. “Heck no,” I say, shaking my head. “Any chance for me to kick Carter’s butt is a chance I’m more than willing to take. No holds barred.”

Barb smiles – this time, it’s genuine and practically lights up the room – and sinks back into her chair, looking pleased and relieved.

“I’m so glad,” Barb says. “I was certain that you’d say no.” She hands me a piece of paper. “This is a sample contract – we’ll send over a real one to your hotel later today – but I want you to get a feel for what one looks like. Make sure to have your attorney look it over and discuss it with you.”

I look over it, nodding. “This looks good,” I say honestly. Dante has a cotillion of lawyers for the Mona Lisa. I’ll just borrow one. Of course, Carter has one of the top lawyers in the country as his brother. There’s another pompous asshole, devoid of any semblance of a sense of humor. “I can’t believe it.”

“Let me be the first to offer you congratulations,” she says. “I know that you must be thrilled.”

“I am.” My cheeks start to hurt from smiling so much. “Very much so. It’s a dream come true.”

“And as long as Mr. Caldwell agrees to do the show, we should have a hit on our hands.” I can practically see the wheels in her head churning as she talks. “And then we can get started filming. I’m guessing we’ll start with one season, and each episode can feature a different kind of cuisine.”

“That sounds good.” In reality, it sounds better than good. It sounds amazing, perfect, incredible. If Barb wasn’t watching me closely, I’d pinch myself just to be sure.

“I’m glad you’re excited,” she says, clasping my palm in hers. “And Pepper, just a little bit of advice. I’m sure you’re quite used to dealing with sexism, being a chef and all. But I just want to let you know, if anything happens that makes you feel uncomfortable, just talk to me or one of the other producers, and we’ll work on fixing it. We want our stars to be happy.”

Star? She called me a star.

“Sounds good,” I say, feeling a bit dumbstruck. There’s no way I’m worried about sexism – at least, from the showrunners and Food Network personnel. “I’m sure that it won’t be a problem. Aside from Carter, that is. I think he’s the only one who has a problem with my gender.”

Barb tells me a few more details and then sends me on my way. Carter lounges in the hallway, leaning against the wall, those perfect full lips pulled into a sardonic smile. When I see him, I grin right back. Take that, asshole, I think to Carter, willing him to say yes to this show idea. Because if you fuck this up for me, I’ll make your life back in Vegas a living hell. Dead skunks will seem like a walk in the park.

He looks gorgeous in his black polo shirt and dark pants, and a little thrill of arousal runs down my spine as I stare at his bulging muscles. Knife wielding has been good to the man for sure, but there’s no way I’m ever going to sleep with him again. Despite being sexy as hell, Carter Caldwell is nothing but a heathen man-child, and I can’t wait to kick his ass. Again and again and again.

Until he begs for mercy.

“What’re you so happy about?” Carter asks, tilting his head. “You finally figured out that fish isn’t a real protein source?”

I bat my eyelashes at him, delighting in his frown. If all it’s going to take is a little reverse psychology to throw him off, it’s going to be like shooting fish in a barrel.

“Oh, nothing,” I lie. “Just happy for you. You won, fair and square. I know when to wave the white towel. Or napkin in this case.”

Carter frowns. Just as he opens his mouth to ask what I mean; Barb’s assistant calls his name. Carter stares at me for a long moment before loping into Barb’s office and closing the door.

I’ve gotten to him. And it feels fucking fantastic. I’m still bristling over his inaccurate harassment of me in my own restaurant.

One of the production assistants calls a cab for me, and I ride back to the hotel in shocked amazement. As hard as I sweated over that tuna tower, it came out just the way I wanted it to. I just wish I was there to see the look on Carter’s face when he learns that he won’t be the star of a new solo show.

When I’m back in my room, I dial Basil. He answers on the first ring. “So? How did it go?”

I can feel a grin spreading across my face until my cheeks begin to hurt. “It was incredible,” I gush. “They offered me a show!”

“Oh my god!” Basil shrieks and I wince, pulling the phone away from my ear. “Honey, that’s fabulous news! You’re going to be the next big thang!”

“I hope so,” I say, closing my eyes and flopping down on the soft hotel bed.

“So, what kind of show are they giving you?” Basil asks in excitement. “Are you going to be like Rachel Ray? Or the Barefoot Contessa?”

I squirm uncomfortably over the duvet. “Not exactly.”

More like the Bobbsey Twins. With knives.

“Well, tell me,” Basil says in a rush of excitement and words. “Girlfriend, I am dying for details over here.”

“Well, it’s going to be a little different,” I say. “I’m, um, going to be competing with someone, and each show will have a different theme for the food.”

“Oh, that sounds fun,” Basil says. “It’ll be like America’s Next Top Chef!”

“Yeah,” I say, hesitating. “It’ll be great.”

“So, who are you up against?”

Dread fills my body, and my excitement fades away. He’s already making my life a living hell and stealing all my joy. And making me pant with want and need.

“Hello?” Basil asks. “Pepper, are you still there?”

“Yeah. Um, well, it’s a little funny, really, I’m going to be on the show with another chef from Vegas.”

“Oh, goodie.” He sounds genuinely excited. “That’s going to be a great boon for Sakana.”

“Yeah. Um, it really is.”

“So, who is it? Guy Savoy? Wolfgang Puck? Gordon Ramsay.”

I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

“Carter Caldwell.”