Page 84 of Stupid Matchmaking Love

My face is flushed. Blood engorges every part of me that it can, and yet Rhett continues on until we have what could be a perfect bowl.

He settles back, his body easing away but his hands remaining on mine. “What do you think?”

The pride in his voice makes my chest seize. “It’s beautiful.”

“Do you want to present it?”

“Two minutes,” Mina calls.

My gaze darts around, and most of the other couples are finishing up, their creations looking like actual creations.

I spin around and face Rhett. “Ours is good.”

There’s a spark in his eyes when he says, “Too good, you think?”

“Too good?”

“Would you like me to do the honors, or should we ruin it together?”

A smile flits across my face. “We are supposed to do everything as a couple.”

“Yes, ma’am. Turn around and let’s ruin this sucker.”

I do as he says and start the wheel spinning. Rhett takes my hands, and I suck in a breath. It’s like every time he touches me, I forget what it does to my body and experience it anew.

He guides us to misshape the bowl, to lower one side.

But nothing happens.

“Why isn’t it collapsing?” I whisper.

“I don’t know.”

But I think he does know. Just like I know I dropped salt into our cookies during the last challenge, but they wound up tasting amazing.

There’s a culprit, and it’s not Rhett or myself.

It’s the magic in this land, pushing us, wanting me to accept that I have a soulmate—and it’s Rhett.

As soon as I think it, I feel it—a charge in the air, like a whisper of a presence, just enough there to make me alert but not enough to scare.

And that magic has its sights on us.

We’ll see about that.

I press on one side of the bowl, but it still doesn’t bend.

“Twenty seconds,” Mina chimes.

Sweat sprouts across my forehead. I’ve got to lose this challenge. We need to be on the very bottom rung, but the bowl won’t budge.

“Ten seconds.”

“Cristina, we’ve got to get it on the judge’s table.”

I lift my foot off the wheel, jump up, grab the bowl, and race to the table.

On my way, an idea hits me. I stop, glance back at Rhett, and as if he knows what I’m thinking, he gives a slight nod telling me to do it.