He knew the appreciative smile of a satisfied diner. The way his eyes closed as taste exploded on the tongue and aromas drifted up and enfolded him. Or the way she leaned back in her chair, body slumping as simple pleasure made her languid. The final tell being the way he used his fingers to pick up the last speck of food left behind on an otherwise empty plate. All this he observed while the judges sampled Ginger’s food. He was proud of her. Damned proud. To know his competition had really delivered, making his ultimate victory a question and not a guarantee, infused him with unmistakable, unexplainable, and maybe a little reluctant, glee. She’d come here to trounce him, putting her reputation and ego on the line. For a while there, when she’d been immobile after the timer had started, Lee had been certain she was just handing those precious things to him. But now he watched and knew Ginger—the Ginger he could admit having a few feelings for—had arrived, and she’d come here to win.
