Song was possibly the most gorgeous person Ashna had ever seen. She had one of those faces where exquisite individual features were arranged, well, exquisitely. Her unabashed excitement about being on the show added sincerity to all that perfection. Apparently she was a fan of Rico’s (of course she was, insert eye roll here). Bouncing on her heels, she announced that she was only here to meet him. This resulted in more hooting and applause. The man executed another self-deprecating head bow that rivaled Song’s sincerity (insert another truckload of eye rolls).

The last one to introduce herself was P. T. Cruiser (a pen name, one hoped), an author of cozy mysteries.

“There’s an oxymoron, if I’ve ever heard one,” Rico whispered to Ashna. After their turn, she had excused herself to go find Jonah and request that he get Rico a chair. Between the pain he was trying to hide and his stance, it was obvious putting weight on his leg was killing him. The high director’s chair they’d given him meant he was perfectly positioned to commentate into her ear. Well, no good deed ever went unpunished, did it?

At least Ashna’s annoyance at his quips kept her nice and distracted. Thinking about competing with these ambitious, talented people would have been exciting if not for her special affliction of only being able to cook Baba’s recipes. With that gift there was no possible way for this to end in anything but staggeringly disastrous public humiliation.

The author made a joke about the show being the perfect setting for one of her novels—which were filled with murder and mayhem.

Just you wait, Ashna wanted to tell her. Just you wait.

THAT FIRST DAY on set had gone off like an especially heinous nightmare. And that was without actually having to cook. It had been just introductions and trying to get everyone comfortable with the set. An abject failure when it came to Ashna. She couldn’t remember a time when she’d felt more uncomfortable.

For all the harsh and sudden ways in which things between them had ended, the years Ashna had spent with Rico were the only time when she had felt sheltered from the storm of her life. Now, a few hours in his presence, and the storm she’d believed she had harnessed ravaged her again.

And tomorrow the cooking challenges would start.