IMAGINES: Celebrity Encounters Starring You (35 page)

His introduction left your mouth agape while Emma huffed beside you. You looked at her again when the men went to their bench, reaching to squeeze her hand. “Oh. My.
God
! I am
never washing my hands again!” you managed to mouth to her so it wouldn’t be heard through the microphone.

Your friend snorted while pressing her lips together. She then winked at you. “Still, wash your hands. We’re cooking!” she answered in the same voice you had. “We’ll touch them again later!”

While the men took their spots behind their counter, you did wash your hands, as did Emma, Chris, and Liam. The host went to them to chat. “So, boys, you’ve been quite busy with press tours and movies?”

“Of course, it’s a never-ending whirlwind, Patrick, but it’s been a nice ride!” Liam answered, grinning.

Chris nodded along. “It’s a real privilege to be allowed to entertain people the best way we know how. And we get to travel the world with our families; it’s simply awesome!”

A woman in the audience screamed that she loved Chris, making him smile and Liam mock-pout. “No love for me?” he asked, his lip quivering.

The crowd roared and whistled in response, bringing forth his radiant smile.

Then Patrick took over once again. “Are you ready to cook? Do you have any experience?”

Rubbing his hands together, Chris laughed. “I should say I’ve gotten better now that there are three kids in the house, but . . .”

“Come on, man, that’s baby purées, not fine cuisine!” Liam teased, slapping his brother’s back. Liam winked at you, then crossed his arms defiantly, a smile on his face. “On the other hand,
I
am a great cook, and I’m ready to take on the ladies!” He wiggled his eyebrows.

You flushed, then narrowed your eyes, standing your ground. Seeing that the taunting had already started, Patrick laughed. “Well, well, it seems the gloves have been thrown down!”

He jogged over to your bench, then patted an opaque plastic
box. “It’s time to unveil what you have picked as ingredients, ladies.” While Emma put her hands on the box, Patrick explained the game. “As you know, both the fans and celebrities get to pick ingredients, two for each team. Then, everyone must scramble to plate up a dish with those ingredients.”

Patrick paused while looking at the actors, who seemed eager to find out what they’d work with, then turned to you dramatically. “And what have you ladies picked?”

As Emma lifted the box, you showed the things underneath. “Well, since we’re both from Canada, we chose maple syrup,” Emma said.

And then you jumped in. “And I’m a chicken lover, so we have chicken breasts over here.”

The actors looked at each other, Liam rubbing his stubble as if in contemplation. He leaned in and murmured something to Chris, who seemed a bit worried.

Patrick nodded, then ran over to the actors’ bench. “And what have you picked, gentlemen?”

Chris lifted the plastic box. “We decided on vegetables: mushrooms and sweet potatoes.”

The choice made you smile and you nudged Emma. “We’ve got them,” you whispered to her with a triumphant grin.

“There you are, contestants!” Patrick returned to center stage. “Let me remind you that you have basic kitchen essentials under your benches and are allowed five more items from the pantry.”

The Hemsworths nodded and rubbed their hands together while you and Emma fist-bumped. You were more than ready to get in the game and win this competition.

“Are you ready?” Patrick shouted to both teams. “You have one hour, and your time . . . starts . . .
now
!”

A gong rang out and you went into chef mode. Quickly
discussing things with Emma, you decided on a pan-seared chicken breast with a creamy mustard and maple sauce, butter-sautéed mushrooms with wild rice, and whipped sweet potatoes. While your friend took care of the side dishes, you carefully prepared the chicken breast to give it maximum appeal once cooked.

While you grilled one side of the chicken, you reduced the maple syrup in a saucepan, bringing the amber liquid to a thick and dark nectar. Taking it off the stove, you quickly whipped crème fraîche into it, then put the pan back on the stove to simmer low.

Patrick came over, smiling. “Tell me, dear, how is it going?”

You knew the camera was now on you, and it made your blood pressure rise; you laughed nervously as you looked up. “It’s . . . uh . . . good—well! Emma and I are making a special recipe combined from our mothers’ dishes and we—”

“Ooooooh, you’re trying to sway the judges!” Chris shouted from his bench.

Gasping, you stared at him, blushing to the roots of your hair. You narrowed your eyes and scrunched your nose. “Hey, you’re the celebrity here! They already like you guys more than us!” you taunted with a sudden smile that made the crowd laugh.

The blond actor snorted and was nudged in the ribs by his brother, who scolded, “Hurry up, Chris! We need to win this! For the family honor!”

Chris harrumphed but chuckled, then went back to his task—slicing chicken—while you laughed wholeheartedly.

As you turned to grab your whisk, the unthinkable happened—your whole world slowed down as your elbow caught the handle of the saucepan, tipping it, causing your carefully whipped maple sauce to splatter across the floor. You stared helplessly, then looked up at Emma, unable to speak.

She snapped her fingers. “Get your head back in the game—you have time to make another!”

While the audience reacted to the accident, oohing and aahing loudly, you quickly found another saucepan and measured more crème fraîche and maple syrup while a tech subtly wiped the floor. You glanced over at the Hemsworths’ bench and saw they were now well ahead of you; their chicken breast was already grilled and macerating in what looked like a maple emulsion.

That was all it took to spur you on.
They will not beat us; I
want
that safari!

Concentrating on your task, you made sure the chicken was turned over, grilling to perfection, while you boiled syrup again, adding the crème along the way. Once the saucepan was back on the stove, you added white wine, celery seeds, and Dijon mustard. The mixture took on a rich amber color and was thick enough to coat the chicken. Once it was to your liking, you checked on Emma.

“How are you doing over there?” you asked in a low voice.

She winked at you. “Oh, we’re
so
beating them! I’m about to drain the sweet potatoes to mash them, and then I’ll . . .
Hey
!”

Just then, Liam had run over from his bench and stolen a few mushrooms from her pack. He laughed maniacally as he ran back to his bench. “No one said stealing wasn’t allowed!” He shoved a mushroom in his mouth, putting the others he had stolen nearby to slice them.

You huffed, “You can steal to cook it, but not to eat it and be a nuisance!”

You stared him down, making the young actor mockingly shiver. “I’m not scared of you! My brother and I have been cooking all our lives!” he shot back playfully.

Emma grabbed a mushroom and threw it his way, seemingly
unconcerned about the cameras. The audience laughed as she teased the Australian, “Oh, yeah—when was the last time you cooked, between playing Gale and looking pretty during press junkets?”

The question stumped Liam, and he looked at his brother.

Chris was laughing so hard that he spilled spices on the counter. He gestured to Emma. “See, Brother, she can put you in your place better than I can. Now, focus! We’re not done!” Roaring Thor-like, Chris grabbed the garlic cloves he had carefully peeled and crushed them in his hand over a pan.

The entire audience burst out laughing, and you with them. Pointing your finger at Chris while he showed off, you protested, “Hey, hey, no fair using brute strength! I can’t do that—neither can Emma!”

Chris flashed you a smile. “Well, tough, ladies, this is my special touch!” He went back to his task, sautéing, grilling, stirring, while Liam did the same.

As precious minutes ticked by, Patrick had the spectators encourage both teams, reminding everyone what they were playing for. Hearing about it made you emotional; winning would be great, but the charity donation would be welcomed even more. It would go to help find a cure for leukemia. The possibility brought tears to your eyes, and you glanced at Emma. She reached to fist-bump you again.

“For Marcie!” she murmured, also crying. You nodded, blinking the tears away.

As if you both had done this all your lives, you finished your elements in sync with Emma, your stress levels lowering as you saw the end nearing. You were a natural in the kitchen and knew this competition was in the bag. Bringing your items to Emma’s side, you started dishing up: chicken on one side, sauce over it, with buttered mushrooms on top. Emma garnished the plate with
a large spoonful of wild rice and a cloud of mashed sweet potatoes. Just as you wiped a dollop of creamy maple sauce that had dripped on the side of the plate, the gong rang again.

You looked over to the Hemsworths’ bench once again and were truly surprised to see they had finished in time, even with all their shenanigans. They looked proud of themselves and you couldn’t help but smile. You knew they were rarely home due to their line of work. Even more, you were impressed they had prepared something that looked so delicious.

As Patrick invited you all to the middle of the set with your dishes, you swung by the actors’ bench, sniffing their dish subtly. You nodded to Chris. “Well, well, it seems you
can
make more than purées, Thor!”

He laughed and wrapped his arm around your shoulders. “I’m a secret weapon all on my own. When I’m home, I cook all the time! It’s my hidden passion, sweetheart!”

Again, you flushed a dark red. His proximity almost made you squeal like a schoolgirl, and when you looked at Emma, you saw Liam had the same effect on her. At the last second, you managed to hold in an excited grin, smiling normally.

Patrick invited two members from the audience to taste and vote for their favorite dish while he did as well. You switched places with Liam and snaked your arm around your friend’s waist as you awaited the results.

Leaning in, you tugged her arm gently. “I think Marcie would love this, don’t you?”

“Oh, yeah, she’d be cheering from the sidelines, and probably drooling a bit too!” Emma laughed, her eyes sparkling. “Hey, whether we win or not, this was fun. We need to do this again when we get home.” She hugged you tightly as you nodded vehemently.

“Every year, for the gang’s reunion, how about we have a
cooking competition from now on? It could be so much fun!” you exclaimed.

Before Emma could answer, you heard the gong for the last time, meaning the results were in. The audience members’ votes came in first; they were split.

Raising one hand, his voting card in the other, Patrick requested silence. “As it happens, we have a tie, ladies and gentlemen. I do have a simple solution for this, which is going back to small details during the execution of the challenge. I look at how tidy the cooking benches were kept, the chosen techniques, and the originality of the recipe. Both teams, besides the ladies’ little mishap, have kept an impeccable counter throughout the hour. The recipes chosen were quite different and creative. I had delicious food to taste, but in the end, technique prevailed. The winners of this week’s
May the Best Team Win
is . . .”

You clung to Emma, holding your breath while the Hemsworth brothers looked worried. It comforted you in a way to see that they too were nervous. Still, you knew you had given the dish your all. A drumroll was heard, then Patrick flipped his voting card.

Emma’s name and yours were on it!

Letting your joy out, you hugged your friend tightly, congratulating her. The audience roared with applause while, in true gentleman-style, Chris and Liam came over to offer sincere congratulations.

“It was a fair fight, but I guess you were right,” Liam told Emma, “we’re not home enough!”

She blushed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it in a bad way!”

Chris squeezed her hand, smiling. “Don’t worry about it! We gave it our best, but you ladies won fair and square!” He turned to your dish and had a taste while you and Emma tasted the men’s dish.

Liam moaned with delight. “Well done, girls, I’m impressed!”

Patrick gathered everyone again, then brought Emma and
you forward. “Congratulations, ladies! I’m sure you’ll enjoy your safari with the bushmen!” he teased.

Chris and Liam took the taunt well, smiling. The blond giant raised his hand. “Actually, we wanted to . . . add a little to the prize.”

You suddenly wondered if the men wanted to go another round in the competition, but were floored when Chris spoke again.

“Liam and I will happily go on the safari, just because it’ll be fun and we love animals. We knew if we won the competition, the show would donate money to our charity and the girls would have some for theirs as well. But my brother and I talked it out and we’d like to donate some of our
own
money to both charities.” Chris smiled a big, genuine smile.

A hand over your mouth, you felt your emotions bubbling to the surface. Emma side-hugged you and then ran to Liam, hugging him tightly. You did the same with Chris, thanking him profusely. He hugged you back.

“Congratulations, sweetheart,” he whispered in your ear. “I’m really happy to spend a day with you and Emma. You were great to compete against! And we all get to help kids!”

“We do!” you replied in a strangled voice, a smile on your face. Your emotions running high, you stepped back, wiping a tear of joy from the corner of your eye, thanking him again.

While Patrick closed the show, the
May the Best Team Win
theme song blaring in the speakers, you looked at the actors. Their kindness was obviously bona fide; Chris and Liam Hemsworth were wonderful human beings. And you were the lucky fan who’d managed, along with your best friend, to win a whole day in their company while getting to help children.

It couldn’t get any better than this!