“You’ll also want to invest in a lid lifter.” The camera panned back to Claire, who showed the tool for lifting the lid off a Dutch oven.
“And don’t forget the heat-resistant gloves.” Roan, wearing a pair of red grilling gloves, appeared in the shot with Claire. “No burned fingers, campfire cooks.”
Claire looked at Roan with such deep affection that Jazzy felt Roan’s loss keenly. The poor man. No wonder he no longer wanted to bake. Claire had been the heart and soul of the endeavor. Even if he’d been the real chef.
“They are too adorbs.” Charlie clutched his heart. “So sad she’s gone. Life sucks the big one sometimes.”
“Indeed.”
Charlie rested a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t absorb their pain, my empathic friend. It’s not your burden to carry.”
He knew her so well. She smiled. “Thank you for the reminder.”
They finished watching the video. In the end, the cookies Roan and Claire baked in the Dutch oven,smothered in campfire embers, turned out crisp and golden. They made it seem so easy. After much oohing and aahing, Claire and Roan leaned in for a cinnamon-sprinkled kiss, waved at the camera, and invited viewers back for the next video in the series.
Feeling blue, Jazzy turned it off. “They had it all. They were the perfect couple, andpoof!Gone in an instant.”
“Want my take?” Charlie asked.
“Always.”
“You’re starting off too ambitious. Break it into steps. First, learn how to bake cookies. Then transfer those skills to campfire cooking.”
“Agreed.”
“So, no outdoor fire today. Instead, let’s start with baking basics. Have you ever made cookies from scratch?”
“Not by myself, no,” Jazzy admitted. “Have you?”
“Sure, plenty of times with Emma and Lauren,” he said, referring to his stepmom and much younger stepsister. “First up, let’s find a simple basic cookie recipe and bake that.”
“I’ll never beat Andi with a simple recipe. I need something that’ll knock the judges’ socks off.”
Charlie cleared his throat and angled her a look.
“What?”
“Baby steps. They didn’t build Rome in a day.” He turned the computer around and studied the basic cookie recipe. “I’ll read off the instructions and you do the baking. Preheat the oven to 350.”
“On it.” Jazzy turned on the oven. “What’s next?”
“Music,” he said. “And more tea.”
“You find the tunes. I’ll pour the brew.”
Charlie cued up a Christmas playlist on his phone and soon he was two-stepping her around the kitchen to “Skater’s Waltz.” Laughing, they sank against the kitchen table to catch their breaths.
“At this rate, we’ll never get those cookies baked,” she said.
“Aww, who cares? We’re having fun.”
“I should withdraw from the competition,” Jazzy said. “I’m deluding myself, thinking I can beat Andi. What do I need? A boulder to fall on my head?”
“Chin up. You’re still reeling from news of their engagement. You were doing fine until that happened. I know you don’t want Danny back, but it still hurts.”
“You’re a good friend. Thank you.”
Charlie sniffed the air. “What’s that smell?”