Within half an hour after taking the new medication, that green pallor receded from Rico’s face, and his sun-kissed glow started to reappear.

“Thanks,” he said as everyone took their positions again. The look in his eyes made the word unnecessary.

It wasn’t until Jonah started shouting instructions on his megaphone that the reality of the cooking challenge came back to her.

“If you need to stop, we stop,” Rico said, and she almost choked. He’d said those words to her at a very different time in their lives.

He made the connection at the exact same moment that she did, and heat flooded his eyes.

Despite herself a smile broke across her face, which made one burst across his.

DJ started his introductions and they were both grinning like fools when the camera turned to them.

Today’s challenge was to make a street food that celebrated the star’s heritage.

“This is great.” Rico smoldered at the camera, giving her a sidelong look that told her he knew he was smoldering. “Brazil is the land of street food.” The way he said Brazil, the word ending with a u instead of an l, had always made her weak in the knees. “Let’s ask the chef what she thinks.”

“Are we guessing again?” Hearing the playfulness in her own voice shot a bolt of energy through her. “Because you know we could use the extra viewer votes.”

Rico laughed, and the audience went crazy.

As the studio filled with laughter, Rico’s eyes found her. “It hasn’t changed,” he whispered.

It was the strangest thing, but in that moment Ashna knew there would be no panic attack. She was going to do this. She was going to cook today. There would be no stretcher carrying her to the hospital. She was going to kick Danny’s butt with this challenge.

They were going to make tapioca pancakes, another thing Rico had talked about in the stories from his childhood.

“Is there a particular recipe?” she asked, refusing to let the word recipe wobble on her tongue.

“My mãe never made them at home. But I know they have coconut and you can eat them with doce de leite.”

She tried not to smile. If you cut him he might bleed doce de leite. How had he sustained his condensed milk addiction as a pro athlete?

“You made the doce de leite really well last time. You want to get started on that and I’ll get started on the pancakes?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, he grabbed a can of condensed milk. There wasn’t a whisper of doubt in his actions that she could do this. Her heart gave one hard thump as she reached for a mixing bowl, but when she watched his hands, sure on the pot as he set the condensed milk to boil, it fell back into its normal rhythm.