“It’s the only way to win,” he said before she let out the apology hovering on her lips. He didn’t want it. “It’s the only way to stand back up when someone knocks you down. Or throws you out because you don’t live up to some bullshit benchmark.” Rico never let his heart rate rise. It was his greatest strength, being able to stay in the moment. “If I hadn’t learned to shut everything out, where would I be?”

Instead of turning the pity in her eyes to anger again, all he managed was to make her go completely blank. Nothing, that’s what she gave him. Nothing but soul-deep exhaustion. Not being able to read her drove him only a little crazier than seeing everything inside her.

Coming here was without a doubt the most asinine idea he’d ever had in his life.

“So your next challenge is . . .” DJ was back at the mic.

Ashna squeezed her eyes shut. Again. Like someone saying a prayer while stuck in the path of a speeding train.

Music crescendoed from the speakers and DJ went on: “To make a favorite comfort food from your celebrity’s childhood.”

The audience applauded, and a wave of half-relieved, half-enthusiastic reactions swept through the competitors. Ashna’s grip on the rolling pin tightened.

“But first the fun part,” DJ said. “Chefs, you get to guess your partner’s favorite comfort food growing up. Bonus points for getting it right.” Groans rose around them. “Stars, please write it down on the flashcard in front of you without letting your chef see.”

It was a rather obvious icebreaker activity to bring out the celebrity and chef personalities, but at least it distracted Ashna enough that she was breathing again.

DJ started with Song and Miguel. Poor Miguel went through everything from shrimp chips to Korean barbecue and finally gave up.

Rico laughed and Ashna raised a brow at him.

“Come on,” he said under his breath. “Think, numbskull.”

“You know a lot about Ms. Woo and her favorite foods?” A hot spark of something replaced the tortured look in her eyes, and for a breath all was right with the world.

Rico shrugged. “It’s got to be tacos.”

Ashna was halfway through an eye roll when Song turned her flashcard over to reveal the word taco written in cursive so perfect it looked like a printed font.

It could have been any Mexican food, and Rico thanked his stars that the theory of probabilities had worked in his favor.

The surprised tightening around Ashna’s mouth shouldn’t have been quite so satisfying, but it totally was.

Next, it was their turn. Naturally, Ashna knew exactly what Rico’s favorite comfort food was. One look at her told him that she hadn’t forgotten. Was this cheating? It wasn’t guessing if she already knew.