Reena bit the side of her lip, realizing how pathetic she sounded. Was this grade two? Asking him to be her friend?

He smiled, though. Wide enough for her to see that dimple for the first time without the concealment of facial hair. She had an urge to stick her pinky finger into the deep crevice. “I’d like that, Reena. Friends.” His smile was infectious.

She could do it, be his friend. She could put aside her attraction, her parents’ interference, and his secrecy, and just get support from the man who lived across the hall, and who needed a friend as much as she did. “Deal.”

He beamed. “Okay, then, friend. Be back in a second. I just got a pumpkin porter that you have to try. We can toast this friendship.” He grinned and left her apartment.

Reena smiled to herself as she checked her phone. And a perfectly timed message from the foodie gods themselves was waiting for her in her inbox.

To Reena Manji,

Congratulations! Among hundreds of entries, yours has been chosen to participate in the FoodTV Home Cooking Showdown! The winning couple of this talent search will be awarded a ten-thousand-dollar scholarship for the Asler Institute, Canada’s premier cooking school with locations in every major city across the country. Winners may also be showcased in a FoodTV holiday special, sharing their unique home-cooked cuisine!

Reena skimmed the rest of the email outlining the rules while her heart beat heavily in her ears. Shayne’s inside information was right. She was in.

And at that moment, Reena decided that she wanted to do it. Cooking with Nadim had saved her the night she lost her job—she needed, deserved more of that.

Her kitchen timer went off before Nadim returned, so by the time he was back in her kitchen pouring the dark beer into glasses, she was at her counter getting ready to form the challah dough into loaves.

“Pull up a stool,” she told Nadim after he handed her the beer. “I need to ask you something. No pressure, just an idea, okay?”

He grinned as he sat opposite her at the breakfast bar. “I’m all ears. Go ahead.”

“Okay.” She took a breath. “First, a question. Do you remember that video we made for that FoodTV contest?”

“Of course.”

“One of us sent in the application.” She paused. “I was too drunk. I don’t remember who did it.”

He cringed. “Yeah, I should apologize. We applied together, but I talked you into it. I may have been a bit persuasive.”

“We got in.”

His eyes widened. “Shit. Really?”

She nodded. “And …I want to do the contest. But I’ll need your help to continue.”

Pulling off a six-strand braid of bread dough while explaining to an attractive man that she wanted him to pretend to be her fiancé to compete in an online cooking contest was no easy feat, but she’d made challah enough times that she managed. And the smirk on Nadim’s face told her the idea didn’t turn him off. Amused him, though.