“Wow,” Marley said. “That’s what I call chemistry.”

“Seriously. He’s spectacular. Like a brown Jamie Oliver.” Shayne fanned himself. “You sure you didn’t hook up after that? Because that was cooking-show foreplay.”

“Shayne!”

“Fine, fine. I understand now,” Shayne said. “Obviously it’s your decision, but Anderson told me a lot of people entered. The fact that you managed to do that while drunk off your ass is pretty impressive. Seems a waste not to continue. That scholarship could be yours.”

“I know. I know. I just … ” She turned off her phone. “I have a lot of shit going on right now, and I don’t want to add to my stress. But … let me think about it.”

Shayne shrugged. “Fine. Then I’ll leave it be. Anyway, there might be a conflict of interest if you do it, since I was planning to help you with your videos and I’m dating a production assistant at FoodTV.”

Marley grinned. “So, you and Anderson are officially a couple?”

Shayne groaned. “I have no idea. I wish I knew.”

Reena left Marley’s soon after dinner, went straight to her kitchen, and sliced several thick slices of her Sue loaf, a country sourdough made with unbleached white flour, and her Brian loaf, a Swedish dark rye with caraway, molasses, and orange peel. She wrapped them up first in brown paper, then in a plastic bag, and walked across the hall to Nadim’s. She’d been rude when texting him during dinner and felt the need to make amends.

And she felt a little guilty for giving him her cold.

Nadim opened his door, and she stared. He looked … different. A red nose, watery eyes, flat hair, and a grin wider than a Cheshire cat. It was a strange contradiction, looking both miserable and elated consecutively.

“Reena!”

She gathered her composure, shooing away the fluttering in her stomach, and handed him the bag. “A sampling of my efforts today. A peace offering, and a thank-you for … obliging me and taking care of me the other night. I’m sorry for being such a mess. And I’m sorry I gave you my cold.”

He took the bag. “It wasn’t my most put-together moment either. I feel like I should be thanking you for cheering me up that night. I had a great time.”

“Glad I could help.” Reena smiled, turned, and returned to her apartment. She had no intention of spending more time with him than necessary, not when seeing him appeared to make her skin pebble with goosebumps. Annoying.

Saturday felt wrong. Saturdays were supposed to be about spending time with friends, relaxing, and unwinding after the work week. But with no job, there wasn’t much to unwind. Reena felt restless. What she needed was to make bread. But today wasn’t a day for her usual crusty, sourdough-leavened country breads. Reena’s mood needed something more sumptuous. But which recipe? Brioche would be lovely, but the loose dough really needed an electric mixer to make it work. She had a professional-grade KitchenAid, but she used it rarely, preferring to knead by hand most of the time. She finally decided on challah, the traditional Jewish celebration bread fortified with eggs and oil. Reena gathered her ingredients.