Authors: Sarah Gates
Anna sent off another text to Ben requesting an actual update on the café. Was it too much to ask just to know it hadn’t been burned down or burglarised? Her heart jolted as her phone buzzed with a reply. She swiped at the screen and was treated to a flood of photos of the café interior. Everything that needed to be demolished or taken away was gone. The place was an empty shell. The next few photos showed the front of the shop with its new windows, flower boxes installed and the exteriors painted. The photo series was rounded off by a snap of Ben and his boyfriend, both sporting paint on their clothes and faces.
Thank you
, she typed back.
Don’t come back until he gives you a ring
.
No ring. But you are the best. Thank you, thank you, thank you
.
The door opened and Anna stuffed the phone under her pillow. She stared up at the ceiling and tried to look like she’d been just lying there relaxing. But she needn’t have worried. Hadie entered alone and picked her way through the floordrobe on her side of the room to her unmade bed.
‘Are you okay?’ Hadie asked, stuffing her pyjamas under her pillows and pulling the quilt to neatly cover the mattress. One by one, she grabbed her discarded possessions.
‘Are
you
okay? You’re cleaning.’
‘I am so incredibly bored. But we’re talking about you.’
‘I’m fine. It just feels like such a waste of time lazing around here.’
‘I know.’ Hadie sighed. ‘I feel the same. My mum’s probably feeding Matty chocolate for breakfast and telling him all about how Jesus died for him.’
‘She’s religious and you’re not?’
‘Yep.’ Hadie frowned and Anna couldn’t tell whether it was because of her religious mother or because she couldn’t figure out whether the black material she was holding was pants or a top.
‘Can I ask you a question?’ Hadie sat on the edge of her bed and faced Anna, giving up on the piece of clothing she’d been holding.
‘Shoot.’
‘Are you here for love? Do you want the season to end with Luke getting on one knee and telling you that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you?’
Anna took a deep breath. She couldn’t help scanning the room for hidden cameras for the hundredth time. As always, there were none and the room didn’t have the mirrored walls of the rest of the villa.
‘Honestly, I don’t think Luke is the one for me,’ Anna said, deciding on a watered-down version of the truth.
‘But you like him. I know you do.’
‘His job is travelling. He lives a rich and famous lifestyle. He’s been spoiled for choice ever since he was born.’
‘I don’t think he’s spoiled. He seems really down to earth,’ Hadie said.
‘He’s got everything he’s always wanted without ever having to fight for it.’
‘That’s not true. They don’t just hand you Olympic medals. You have to work really hard to get that good at something.’
‘He’s never had to go without or make sacrifices.’
‘I don’t know. Didn’t you hear how he talked about high school yesterday? He didn’t go to parties, didn’t have time for girls or even friends by the sound of it.’
‘The poor thing. Lots of people don’t have time for those things.’
‘I think you’re just scared,’ Hadie said after a few seconds. ‘You’re frightened to death of being vulnerable. The cameras only make it worse. You don’t want to let yourself fall in love and open yourself up for rejection on national television.’
Anna didn’t reply and after a few minutes, Hadie left the room without another word. The ones she’d already voiced swam around Anna’s mind. Was Hadie right about Anna being scared of love? Anna wanted to reject the idea out of hand, but the memories of her mother’s self-destruction after losing Anna’s father stayed close to her mind. No amount of love for Disney princesses and their stories as a kid could make up for what she’d seen within her own family. There was probably a counselling appointment somewhere with her name on it, but Anna pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind. She grabbed her notebook and began filling it with recipe ideas.
* * *
Anna spent the rest of that day and the next with her head in her notes, only appearing to use the kitchen to try a new version of honeycomb and gingerbread cheesecake slice.
When Mason Lockier finally arrived and announced the next whole group date, it was a much needed distraction. Anna had felt herself sliding into insanity, she’d been so bored. She made a mental note never to commit a crime that could result in jail time. Besides, she didn’t think criminals got full reign of a kitchen filled with ingredients. Unless Kate could pitch an idea for an inmate-driven reality show with Anna as one of the stars.
‘What do you think we’re doing?’ Liu Kun asked as they filed onto what was clearly Anna’s dream set. She had a pretty good idea of what would be involved: cooking. Finally a date she might enjoy. The image was perfected by the appearance of Donat Monque, legendary pastry chef. He stood on a raised platform in front of three rows of counters featuring ovens, stoves and sinks.
‘The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,’ the greatest dessert chef in the world said. ‘So today you will be making a croquembouche.’ He pulled away a white sheet to reveal his creation. ‘The best one will receive an intimate dinner for two with Luke Westwood.’
Anna’s heart fluttered in her chest. It was really him. Donat Monque, her idol. In his early thirties and an international sensation—for good reason. The fangirl in her wanted to rush to him and get a signature or kiss his hand. If only Kate had selected
him
as the star of
Love Elimination
, Anna might have given the whole thing a chance. Learning from Donat Monque was her ultimate fantasy.
Except, when Luke walked in, Anna couldn’t drag her eyes away. She took a deep breath. Luke came to a halt at the work station next to her. He looked across at her and grinned. The expression sparked a warmth in her lower abdomen.
He leaned over until his mouth was a centimetre from her ear. ‘See. I’ve got this date thing down pat,’ he whispered. ‘You’re welcome.’
Her heart hammered in her chest. This date was clearly meant for her. The question was, why? Was it all part of Luke’s romantic superstar act or was it an I’m-sorry-for-putting-you-in-this-position orchestrated by Kate?
‘Everyone choose a counter,’ Donat Monque was saying. ‘Luke will be walking around and assisting. Put your hand up if you need his help.’
Anna let out a puff of air and hurried to the front of the room, to the work station closest to her role model. Luke sauntered along the row and leaned against the counter next to her.
‘I’ll start at the front and work my way backwards then, shall I?’ Luke said so that the whole room could hear him. Then he lowered his voice and spoke only to Anna. ‘So is this worth sticking around for? Please tell me Donat Monque is your favourite. Kate thought he might be …’
‘Kate should know. I talk about him all the time.’
‘Should I be jealous?’
Anna shook her head and smiled, sneaking a look at the chef from under her eyelashes. ‘Thank you. This is the best thing that has ever happened to me.’
‘After meeting me, of course,’ Luke shot back.
‘In your dreams.’
Seeing all the contestants positioned behind a work station, Donat moved to the centre of the stage. ‘All the ingredients are under your counters, along with everything else you’ll need. If you need to top up there are extras of everything in the shelves along the wall to your left. You have three hours to assemble your creations. Feel free to decorate them as you wish, but the recipe in front of you will help you. And your time starts—’ he paused, ‘—now!’
With deft hands, Luke grabbed the crate of ingredients and lifted it onto Anna’s counter. They unpacked it together and Luke shoved the box aside.
‘What first?’ he asked. He stared hopelessly at the ingredients.
‘First we make the profiteroles and crème pâtissière.’ She looked up and caught Luke crinkling his eyebrows. He stood there like a lost little boy.
‘And how do we do that?’
‘Don’t tell me you can’t cook?’
‘That’s what my billions of dollars are for.’
‘Can you read recipes?’
‘I don’t know … I am just a boofhead athlete, you know.’ He picked up the laminated page and started reading.
‘Read it aloud, please! I want to know how Donat Monque makes them.’
Anna was entirely in her element. She barely noticed when Luke went off to answer the raised hands of the other girls. To Anna’s delight, Donat Monque didn’t remain at the front of the hall or disappear while they were cooking—he gave as much attention to each girl and their cooking as would be expected from an episode of a cooking show. When he arrived at her work station, Anna had a chance to ask all the questions she’d ever wanted to pose to him. In the end, she couldn’t remember any of the answers; it was like her brain turned into cream puffs and wisps of sugar every time she tried to think around Donat Monque. But she did remember Luke at her side, preventing her from going full fangirl. With him there, her conversation with the chef became just that: a conversation. They talked about their favourite recipes, his successes and her café.
She was so distracted by Donat Monque that Luke had to point out that her oven was on the wrong temperature. The blast of heat when she opened it hit her like a slap in the face.
‘Oh my god.’ She corrected the settings, but the damage was done. Her profiteroles were ruined.
‘Don’t worry.’ Luke placed a hand on her back. ‘You’re still about twenty to thirty minutes ahead of everyone else. Yvette is still trying to figure out how to keep the food from getting under her nails. I don’t think she’s touched a single thing.’
Anna’s hand flew to her face. She felt like she might explode. ‘Oh no! Did Donat Monque see?’
‘He didn’t see a thing.’
‘Really?’ Anna blinked rapidly to hold back the moisture in her eyes.
‘Really. And even if he did, I don’t think it would have mattered, given how much he liked you.’
‘Liked me?’ How she wished she could remember the conversation she’d just had with Donat Monque. ‘Remind me what he said?’
‘He asked who you were and whether you were a pastry chef. He said you have enormous talent and wanted to know why the hell you were on a dating show when you should be in one of his kitchens.’
At the back of the room, Donat Monque was mixing a bowl and Yvette was standing back with one hand on her hip and the other raised to her eye level. She was watching her nails and not the world renowned chef. Anna had a strong urge to chuck her burnt profiteroles at the woman’s head.
‘Come on. Let’s start on batch two.’
Instead of the hindrance Anna expected him to be, Luke was a useful assistant. He was a fast learner and he followed Anna’s instructions without a single complaint. They worked while swapping jokes and witty wordplay, and there were exquisite brushes of his hand on hers or his body nudging past.
For the first time, Anna truly appreciated Luke Westwood’s intelligence. He wasn’t just a face hotter than Anna’s first attempt at setting the oven. And whenever Luke was called away, Anna experienced an unexpected rush of disappointment—the croquembouche wasn’t as much fun without him.
The only tricky part of the relatively straightforward dessert was the fiddly construction of the tower. Spending so much time hunched over a counter that her muscles tensed up just made it trickier. But when it was finished, her croquembouche looked incredible. The caramel hung around the profiteroles like perfect spider webs.
Finally the clock ran out of time and Donat Monque called them to attention. Anna’s nerves tingled as the chef tasted her croquembouche first. Unlike cooking show judges, Donat Monque didn’t—or couldn’t—keep a passive expression on his face. The chef grinned and exchanged a look with Luke, who took a bite of his own profiterole before grinning too.
‘Very good,’ Donat Monque murmured as he moved onto the next counter. Luke whispered a congratulations and moved along the row to try Hadie’s creation. Her tower was a little crooked, but Luke did a lot of nodding and praising.
Waiting for the pair to make their way through every contestant was agonising. Donat Monque and Luke took the time to taste every tower and offer compliments to every woman, although they skipped Yvette, who hadn’t managed to produce anything. When Donat Monque returned to the front of the room, Anna’s heart felt like it was wedged in her throat and she was unable to move.
Donat Monque opened his hands and held them out before him.
‘Well done, everyone. You all worked hard and produced some wonderful desserts today. But I’m sure it will come as no surprise when I announce our winner,’ he said. ‘So the girl going to dinner with Luke Westwood tonight is … Anna Hobbs!’
A grin exploded onto her face. She bounced on the balls of her feet and clasped her hands together. Donat Monque was looking at her and smiling. The chef knew her name. Her role model knew her name!
‘Anna, I know you’re opening your own dessert café. From what I’ve eaten today, I can tell it’ll give my places a run for their money.’
A tiny squeal escaped her lips. That’s it. She could never top this moment—even if her café was a massive success and became an international franchise. Even if she won the biggest awards. There was no single achievement that could beat hearing those words from the mouth of Donat Monque, the youngest and most talented pastry chef the world had produced in the past one hundred years.
‘Congratulations, Anna.’
‘Thank you.’ She could barely get the words out and when she did, she was positive that he hadn’t heard. But he nodded and approached the counter, offering her a handshake. Anna gripped his hand with her own, which she would have never washed again, except for the fact of food safety regulations.
‘And that’s it for today, ladies. Please return to the minibus—everyone apart from Anna and Luke, of course.’
Hadie gave her a thumbs up as she filed past, but her enthusiasm failed to spread to her face. Anna felt a jab of guilt at the thought that she’d be spending more time alone with their man. But there was no way she’d give this up. It made it worth coming on the show. Worth any humiliation or hit to her dignity. Anna would’ve given years of her life to have the moment she just experienced.