All’s Fair In Love and Cupcakes

by Betsy St. Amant

  Thad was still watching her, eyes narrowed in consideration as if sizing her up.

  Great. Her hope blossom slowly withered and died.

  “And, action!”

  Finally, the magic words that stilled the set and straightened the judges’ shoulders. Sam introduced the next portion of the show, and motioned for Tameka, the first one in line, to present her cupcake.

  The bigger woman flashed what was quickly becoming her trademark grin. “The circus always makes me think of peanuts, so we concocted a peanut butter, dark chocolate cupcake with almond buttercream icing and peanut brittle on top.” The cameraman zoomed in on the cupcake sitting in front of Georgiana. “We decorated it with a fondant bear and a hula hoop, juggling peanuts.”

  Juggling peanuts? How in the world? Kat squinted, grateful for the TV screens off to the side of the set that showed what was currently being taped for the segment. Oh, cute. She’d used clear plastic toothpicks to hold up peanuts in staggered heights around the bear.

  Her awe faded into uncertainty. Would her animal cracker topping be enough to impress?

  The judges forked off a piece of the cake while everyone in the room held their collective breath. Kat’s stomach dipped into her shoes, and it wasn’t even her invention on the line. How would she survive potentially five days of this?

  Then again, how would she survive if she got sent home and didn’t even get to survive five days? Her mind darted in circles like the dang hula-hooping bear.

  “Judges?”

  Dave wiped his mouth with a napkin and nodded heartily at Tameka. “Well done, sister. The peanut brittle was a delicious extra touch. I found your decoration to be fun and right on target with the theme.”

  “My only suggestion is to be careful with the consistency of your chocolate cake.” Thad leaned forward in his chair, skipping Georgiana in order to speak next. “It wasn’t quite moist enough. Almost dry, really.”

  Georgiana slapped the table with her hand. “Whatever! That cake texture was perfect, and you know it. Ignore him, Tameka. I know what I’m talking about.” Then she good-naturedly elbowed Thad, who rolled his eyes.

  Thad would be the hardball this episode, apparently. As per the usual. Still, was that his honest opinion, or did he exaggerate for the camera’s sake? Suddenly, everything Kat thought she knew about the show seemed null and void. Whom could she trust?

  Thad shoved his plate farther away from him, as if the not-moist-enough cake was his new archenemy in life.

  Yeah, apparently she should only trust Lucas.

  “A little division in the ranks. But we’ll fix that up during the break.” Sam laughed. “Next up, We Grow Cupcakes. Present your cake, please, Sarah.” He motioned for the shy woman to step forward.

  A nervous smile fluttered across Sarah’s freckled, makeup-free face. “We’ve never actually been to the circus, so we had to imagine a little. We decided on a chocolate buttercream icing on a lemon zest cupcake, and designed a clown for the top using fondant, chopped up cherries, chocolate chips, and sprinkles.”

  The camera panned back to take in the creation, and Kat winced. The clown had been thrown together pretty sloppily, as if they’d run out of time or simply had overshot their decorating ability.

  The judges went down the line again, complimenting the cake this time but harping on the decoration. Dave even called it lazy, which started Sarah blinking rapidly.

  The Icing Queens, Piper’s team, went next with a confidence that even tempted Kat to vote for them. The judges, especially Thad, raved over the texture of the cake, the taste, and the decorations, which featured a tiny giraffe on a pogo stick and a real miniature striped tent made of fondant.

  The biker team didn’t get as rave a review, but seemed to pass well enough compared to We Grow Cupcakes. Then it was Kat’s turn.

  Sam motioned for her to start, and she licked her dry lips, wishing Lucas could stand behind her. She desperately grappled for the intro she’d written in her head while she waited. “Love is a circus, and for us, nothing speaks circus more than animals, peanuts, and popcorn.” She cleared her throat, wishing Thad’s consistent stare would level elsewhere. “We created a peanut butter chocolate cake with peanut butter caramel icing, topped with caramel corn and animal crackers, complete with a fondant red flag.”

  Her voice shook on the last word as the judges’ forks cut into her creation. This was it. The only moment that mattered for the rest of her day.

  Sam’s voice cut through the pounding in her head. “Dave, tell us what you think.”

  “Love the peanut butter. It’s a good blend with the cocoa.” Dave cleared his throat as he set down his fork. “Nice consistency throughout. And the animal crackers were a good, not-too-sweet addition to the cake. Well done.”

  A dull roar started in Kat’s ears. One down. Two to go.

  Georgiana smiled at Kat, as if sensing her fear. “I liked the caramel corn the best. Unique addition, but not too weird, even for this gal.” She pointed her fork at Kat. “You did good, honey. I want another one of these.”

  A seed of confidence nestled into her heart, and Kat returned the woman’s smile. “Thank you.”

  “Thad?” Sam raised his eyebrows. “What did you think?”

  Thad, who had been propped on his elbows, leaned back in his chair and sighed as if he’d just been interrupted from deep thought. “I’m getting a little tired of peanuts, to be honest.”

  A brick slammed into Kat’s stomach and pushed her backward a step. She nearly stumbled into one of the tattooed team members next to her, the dull roar becoming a deafening soundtrack. She should have known it wouldn’t be that easy.

  “But this combination was refreshing. Nice job.”

  Kat exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. The brick disappeared, leaving her light-headed and exhausted from the sudden lapse of weight.

  So much adrenaline coursed through her body that Kat couldn’t even concentrate on what the judges said about the last entry from Inky Dots. It took every ounce of her focus to remain upright until they were dismissed to the contestants’ lounge, where they’d wait while the judges debated.

  Lucas appeared at her side, gripping her arm and tucking her against him as they filed in a silent line to the lounge. “You did great.”

  “I almost had a heart attack.” Kat tried to ignore the camera following them to the lounge, and kept her attention on Lucas’s face. His stubbled, tanned, ridiculously handsome face.

  Well, that might not be a safer choice after all.

  They squeezed onto an oversize purple couch next to John and Sarah from We Grow Cupcakes, who whispered their concerns to each other. Across the room, Piper and Amanda spread out on the green couch, taking up more than their share of the available space, while the biker team stood against the wall, tapping an anxious rhythm with their boots.

  Tameka clapped her hands from her position on a stuffed armchair, making everyone in the room jump. “I think we did fantastic, y’all.” She glanced at Piper, who raised a challenging brow in return. “Even you, Miss Thang.”

  The younger girl’s brow furrowed into a deep frown, but Tameka kept going before she could retort. “We should all be proud, regardless of which team they send home here in a minute. And I mean that.”

  Tonya nodded, supporting her sister. “That’s right. I was impressed by everyone’s entries.”

  The room erupted into hopeful chatter as the sullen mood lifted and morphed into one of hope. How did the sisters do that? Kat found her own spirits lifting, and she leaned across Lucas to speak reassurances to John and Sarah, who were worried about their clown decoration.

  Lucas’s hand landed on her back, offering comfort, pressing lightly to reassure her of his presence. His steady, rock-solid presence. What would she do without him? Gratitude swelled, and she squeezed his jean-clad knee before straightening back into her spot.

  Then reality tapped her on the shoulder.

  If she won, she’d be
leaving Lucas behind for a year. What was she thinking, even being on this show in the first place? For the sake of her heart, it would be helpful to have a break from him. But that same heart that threatened their friendship would break into a hundred pieces if she was away from him for a year or longer.

  It was one thing to spread her wings and fly on her own.

  It was another to be pushed out of her safety nest before she’d even read the flying manual.

  The door opened, and a Red Shirt assistant directed them back onto the stage for the first round reveal. Kat’s fingers anxiously found Lucas’s and held on tight as they walked what felt like a path to the guillotine. Her traitorous thoughts kept drifting from the upcoming elimination to the dread of her apparent no-win situation. She could get sent home this round, and then the chance she’d be leaving Lucas wouldn’t even be on the table. It’d be back to chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry day in and day out.

  But if she won . . . if she kept going in the competition . . . the threat—opportunity?—would linger for at least another twenty-four hours until the next round.

  Palms slick, Kat joined the rest of the bakers on the taped line to await the verdict. Thankfully, this time the torture wasn’t stretched out. Sam must have powered up while they were in the lounge.

  The judges offered steady smiles that Kat struggled to return, noticing how they didn’t meet anyone’s eyes dead-on. Beside her, Hallie from Inky Dots fairly bounced from one foot to another, while the biker on her other side rubbed his left arm so hard she thought he might scrub off his American flag tattoo.

  “Bakers, you all did a great job creating unique and edible cupcakes featuring how love is a circus.” Sam paused for dramatic effect. “But one of you didn’t live up to the high standard the judges demand from decorations in round one.”

  Tension thickened the room until Kat struggled to take an intentional breath, just to make sure she still could. She didn’t know if she was really in danger or not, having zoned out during the last of the first round judging, but she knew in her gut her decorations hadn’t held up in comparison to a few of the other entries. Anything could happen. How many times had she watched episodes at home and yelled at the judges for being blind to what was clearly the cutest cupcake?

  “That team is . . .”—Sam stretched out the one syllable until it sounded like eighteen—“We Grow Cupcakes.”

  Kat exhaled with relief even as dismay over what the other team must be feeling nudged her heart.

  “John and Sarah, I’m sorry, but your clown didn’t pass the test. You’ve been eliminated from Cupcake Combat.” Sam offered a fabricated, almost-sympathetic smile as Sarah and John hustled off the stage, heads down, fingers entwined.

  The cameras cut off, and Sam smiled more naturally at the remaining bakers. “Contestants, we’ll meet back here tomorrow, same time and place, for round two. Everyone, stick around for a brief post-elimination interview, then you can all head to your hotels. Good luck, and get some rest tonight.”

  Rest. Right. That was a laugh. Like she’d think about anything tonight other than the disappointment on Sarah’s face when Sam announced the judgment, and the mixed feeling of relief and regret in her own head that she and Lucas weren’t going home.

  At the moment, she wasn’t even sure anymore where home was.

  thirteen

  There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home.”

  Lucas pulled another slice of pizza from the cardboard box on the bed in his room and nodded toward the remote control, which Kat had conveniently placed just out of his reach. “How much longer are you going to make me watch The Wizard of Oz?” They’d come back to the hotel after being dismissed from the studio, and quickly agreed to crash in front of the TV and order a pizza. Forty-five minutes later, they were set.

  Except for the chick flick. Or it seemed like a chick flick to him, anyway. Compared to the Terminator, which she’d flipped quickly past a few minutes ago.

  “There’s nothing else on.” Kat wiped a smear of pizza sauce from her chin and leveled the control at the television, cranking up the volume as a dark-haired Dorothy clicked her red shoes together.

  Not true. There was always a football game on this time of year. “Nothing is relative. And subjective.” Lucas reached for the remote, but Kat twisted away, holding it behind her pizza slice. He could have gotten it, but not without knocking her—or the pizza—off the bed. Besides, it was kind of fun watching her mouth the lines of the movie between bites. Sometimes she’d do the voices of the characters without even realizing she was mimicking.

  “Subjective to the person holding the remote control, you mean.” She wiggled the black rectangle from her spot at the foot of the bed and grinned a challenge.

  “Whatever.” He’d fight that battle later, if needed. Right now, he was too comfortable. And he was enjoying watching her relax for the first time all day.

  “Those pigtails of Dorothy’s remind you of anyone?” Lucas folded a pillow and propped it between his back and the headboard, stretching out his legs. Speaking of relaxing, here he was a football coach, always moving around the field, but somehow, standing on that set today had coiled his muscles tighter than springs.

  Kat shoved the last bite of her pizza in her mouth and pulled her sweatpants-clad legs up underneath her. “If you’re talking about Piper, let’s not. She was more Wicked Witch today than Dorothy, anyway.”

  “Want me to drop a house on her?” Lucas grinned at Kat’s exaggerated expression of consideration. If Kat only knew how badly he’d wanted to intervene on her behalf all day long—with Piper, and with Thad, that preppy judge he especially didn’t like now that he’d been around him in person. He’d witnessed the near heart attack Thad had given Kat with his proclamation about being tired of peanuts. He could see the reasoning behind drawing things out for the sake of the show, but these were real bakers with real feelings and real careers on the line. It wasn’t all that entertaining in person.

  He’d never watch reality TV the same way again.

  Kat brushed pizza crumbs off her fingers and onto her pants. “Tomorrow will be better.”

  “In general, hopefully. With Piper? Let’s be realistic.” Lucas opened his second Dr Pepper, not even caring. He’d get back on his food and exercise regime after they returned to Bayou Bend.

  At this point, sooner would be much preferable to later.

  Though he wasn’t sure if he could handle the disappointment in Kat’s eyes once Sam told her she’d baked her final cupcake or said some other dramatic garbage.

  “Hopefully we don’t run into her here at the hotel.” Kat wrinkled her nose at the very idea. “Why do you think she’s so awful?” She turned down the volume on the TV, and Lucas fought back his grin. He apparently had just crossed the threshold into official Girl Talk time. Where was Rachel when he needed her? This was her and Kat’s specialty.

  But the scary part was, he really didn’t mind.

  “Everyone has something they’re dealing with.” Lucas shrugged before taking another swig of his soda.

  “Wait. Are you defending her?” Kat stretched across the foot of the bed to grab her diet drink from the desk. “I have to say, I’m a little surprised.”

  “Well, sure. Just look at the movie.” Lucas struggled to keep a straight face, hiding his mouth partially behind his aluminum can. “Dorothy, for one, is struggling with wanting to go home. The lion, for another example, needs courage. So he’s clearly struggling with fear.”

  Kat frowned, trying to follow, clearly not used to him waxing philosophical. “So you’re saying you think Piper might be homesick, or afraid of losing, or something?”

  Man, she was adorable. “Close.” He nodded seriously, desperately hanging on to his stoic demeanor, unable to look directly into Kat’s eyes for fear of ruining his performance. “I was actually thinking she was more like the Tin Man.”

  “Really? How so?” She leaned forward, as if he was about to reveal a deep, psy
chological truth.

  He prepped for the punch line. “She has no heart.”

  WHACK.

  The pillow came out of nowhere, knocking his nearly empty Dr Pepper can onto the floor. He tried to sit up to grab it, but the attack kept coming.

  “I can’t believe you! You totally had me going.” Kat’s face flushed red as she beat him with the pillow a second and third time, giggles erupting between hits. “You are such a dork.”

  “And you’re more gullible than you used to be.” Lucas wrestled the pillow from her grip and knocked it lightly against her shoulder. “Someone’s got to toughen you up.”

  She looked anything but tough at the moment, in her messy ponytail, pink sweatpants, and rumpled hoodie—though fully capable of beating his heart to a pulp.

  “Whatever. I’ll show you tough.” She grabbed for the pillow again, and he released it on purpose, loving the joy in her eyes when she realized she’d actually gotten it from him. She went to hit him, but he blocked it with his forearm, effectively knocking her flat on her back on the bed, her head nearly landing in the grease-stained pizza box. She giggled again, and he leaned over and grabbed for the pillow before she permanently stained it with tomato sauce.

  She refused to let go, holding on with a grip tighter than he expected, and ended up pulling him down beside her. He laughed, the pillow smashed between them, and scooted the box out of the way of her hair before propping up on his elbow. “I’m still waiting to see tough, by the way.”

  She grinned up at him, all long lashes and aqua eyes, and his breath hitched. She had no idea the power she wielded, which was part of the charm. But the way she blinked at him, two parts innocence to one part sass, made his propped fist tremble.

  He wanted to kiss her.

  Needed to.

  But what would it change?

  Everything, one way or another. For better or for worse.

  Maybe ’til death did them part.

  His eyes darted from her gaze to her lips, to her flushed cheeks, to the inch of her stomach peeking from between her top and sweats. He squeezed his eyes closed. He needed to move. Get up. Off the bed. Away from the potential that might not even be potential.