“Nothing,” Jazzy said. “That’s the problem. I’m completely lost.”
He eyed her laptop. “In?”
“Oh right, I haven’t told you yet. I bit the bullet and entered the cookie contest.”
He studied her. “Jazzy, I’m not sure this competitiveness you have with Andi is healthy.”
“Because I keep losing?”
“Well...” He pulled a rueful face. “Yeah. Youneverwin. I hate to see you keep pitting yourself against her. You’re Wile E. Coyote and she’s the Road Runner.”
“Odds are I’ll have to winsometime, right?”
“Maybe, but I don’t think campfire baking is your arena. Something less smoky, perhaps?”
“I can do this. I just need to focus.”
He held up his phone with herHelp! text. “Why the SOS?”
“Two heads are better than one?” She offered him a beguiling smile. “I could fix your towel rack today. After this.”
“All right, all right.” He chuckled. “What’s this all about?”
She filled him in on the videos. “I have to jump in with both feet. The first day of the baking challenge is on the twenty-second. That gives me seventeen days to perfect my skills and that’s counting today but because of my vacation, I can devote hours a day to this project.”
“Burning the candle at both ends, Lambchop.” The teakettle whistled, and Charlie’s face lit up. “Are you making pumpkin spice for me?”
“Of course. Anything for my cohort.”
“All right,” he said. “I’m in.”
“You’re so easy.” She grinned and took two cupsfrom the mug hooks underneath the cabinet. Sabrina jumped onto the windowsill to groom herself and watch them through slitted eyes.
“Honey, I never claimed to be hard to get.” Charlie rubbed his palms together. “Where do we begin?”
“Let’s watch the baking video first. Afterward, we’ll head to the backyard pit to start a fire.”
“Okay, I’ll try to channel my inner mountain man.”
“That might be interesting to watch.”
Jazzy pulled up a chair for him and parked herself at the computer. When Charlie took the seat next to her, she hit “play” on the video and Roan’s wife appeared in her kitchen.
“Welcome back, campfire cooking enthusiasts,” Claire Sullivan said with a twinkle in her hazel eyes and a sultry tone in her cultured voice. She wore snug-fitting boot-cut dark-wash jeans, a crisp white shirt, red cowboy boots, and understated turquoise jewelry. Her thick brunette mane was pulled back with a pearl clip. “If you’re enjoying the series, please like and subscribe.”
“She’s gorg!” Charlie murmured.
Yeah, Jazzy noticed. “She’s so animated and lively. Hard to believe she’s dead.”
“Such a shame.” Charlie clicked his tongue.
“It’s clear she’s the driving force behind the videos and Roan was the chef,” Jazzy said, feeling sad for the couple.
Roan appeared on-screen carrying an armful of baking supplies identical to the ones Jazzy had assembled on her kitchen counter per the recipe’sinstructions—flour, salt, butter, eggs, vanilla, sugar, cinnamon, and leavening agents.
As Roan lined up the ingredients, the camera panned in. They could hear him voice over the video. “You’ll need a cast-iron Dutch oven for campfire baking. If you don’t have one yet, check the link below for a twenty percent discount on the Pit Boss from Tractor Supply.”
The video was three years old. Jazzy wondered if the discount still applied. Wouldn’t hurt to try.