Speaking of . . .
“How are the hearts coming along?” She’d assigned Lucas’s heavier hand to cutting out red hearts from fondant, instead of the more delicate work of the roses and lace, which she’d left lying on wax paper at the end of her workstation.
He looked up from the end of the counter, first at her, then at the clock. “They’re coming.” His paring knife slipped and he winced. “Oops.”
“What’s wrong?” Maybe she wasn’t the only one having trouble concentrating.
Lucas shot a glance toward the judges’ panel, then resumed his cutting. “Nothing.” He bit the word off like a kid chomping into a crisp cookie.
She started to argue, then knew better. The time restraint had to be getting to him, was probably all. He wasn’t grumpy a little while ago.
In fact, he had been acting as if nothing odd had gone on last night. Which was both good and bad; it just made her a little crazy. Like maybe she had imagined it all. Like maybe they really had just been hanging out, eating pizza, and jogging. Nothing more dramatic than that.
She bit back a groan as she messed up another rose. Of all the times to be dealing with a romance-themed round . . . God, I could use some help here.
“Uh-oh!” Piper’s loud voice sliced through the buzz of last-minute preparations on the set, punctuated by a loud clatter. “Oh no. I’m so sorry.”
The room stilled. Even the hand mixers shut off, the incessant whirring on set ceasing as everyone stared.
No. No.
But her heart knew the truth even before Piper slowly moved her muffin tin away from Kat’s pile of carefully crafted lace—now crunched and smashed into broken fragments.
“How clumsy of me. To trip and fall over nothing like that.” Piper’s broad smile only widened as she sauntered away with her tray. “I do apologize . . .”
For the cameras. And for the judges, maybe. But not for real. She was downright gloating.
Across the counter, Lucas’s mouth opened in shock. He looked as frozen as she felt. She slowly, with a heavy arm that felt half-numb, reached up and tucked loose strands of hair behind her ear. She could barely breathe. She pinched the bridge of her nose and tried to draw in oxygen. Not exactly the kind of help she’d meant when she’d prayed. What now? And how could one girl be so cruel for no reason?
“Oh, I know she didn’t!” Tameka’s voice rose loudly over the muffled din that had slowly increased to a dull roar as reality sank in across the set. “Piper! Where do you think you’re going?”
“It was an accident,” Amanda protested, sticking up for her friend, her hands on her tutu-clad hips. “Mind your own business.” Apparently Amanda had finally gotten the “time to be mean” memo. Better late than never. Beside her Piper smirked and draped her arm around her friend’s shoulders.
Continued murmurs reached Kat’s ears, even as she let the pieces of lace slip through her fingers like sand. Her eyes began to water, and she couldn’t look away from the shards of fondant. All that work . . . and the clock. Oh no. Her chest tightened. They were done here. It was too late now. They’d never be able to redo that delicate work.
“Deep breaths.” Lucas’s voice in her ear warmed her through, but it couldn’t undo the damage. Not this time.
Not even Lucas could fix this one.
It was over.
“Stay with me, Kat. One thing at a time.” He pointed to the clock, all traces of his own previous frustration vanishing in light of the new challenge. “We can do this. You remake the lace, because you know how. I’ll finish the roses.” His eyes searched hers, his own eagerness to help, to fix, to restore, nearly tangible in his gaze. “Okay?”
She wanted to argue, but numbness had set in. Besides, Lucas hadn’t waited for her agreement anyway, but was already heading around to the other side of the workstation toward the piping bag of icing. Always a leader, on the move. Why couldn’t she concoct game plans as quickly?
Other than her default plan B to give up.
That one probably didn’t count.
“Fifteen minutes, bakers!” Sam bellowed.
Oh, he had to be kidding.
“Everything okay over here?” Thad appeared at her side, much like he had done earlier in the segment, and Kat squeezed back a tear as Lucas joined them, his brow furrowed. Thad looked back and forth between the two of them. “I heard that noise. Like metal hitting metal. What happened?”
“We’re fine.” Lucas’s tone, heavier than her black boots, broke the expectant silence. Was he ending the conversation because of the time? Or was he afraid that admitting there was some drama would hurt their chances?
Either way, he was probably right. This wasn’t the time to tell the story. She flashed a smile at Thad and shuddered back a breath. “We just need to finish up. It’ll be fine.” The words tasted sticky and uncertain, but she held her smile and stiff back until Thad murmured his encouragement and headed back to the panel.
She quickly salvaged two pieces of lace that were still intact and large enough for a cupcake, then began measuring the sugar and corn syrup to make another batch of fondant for the others. Her thoughts churned, and she avoided looking at the clock. Piper had clearly done that fake fall and smash on purpose, but why? Why hadn’t she bothered the other contestants?
Why was she so threatened by Kat and Lucas?
She snapped her gaze over to Piper’s station, then reached over and tugged Lucas’s apron tie to get his attention. “Look at that.” She barely remembered to lower her voice, but Piper and Amanda continued putting the finishing touches on their pink decorations as if they hadn’t heard.
Lucas pulled the string free from her hand as he made a 180 in an obvious attempt to spot what she was gesturing toward. “Look at what?” He accidentally squeezed the icing bag he held, and a glob of red dripped onto the floor.
She pointed discreetly. “Piper made lace too.”
“And hers looks—”
“Second-rate to ours?” Kat turned her hopeful gaze to Lucas’s face.
He considered for a moment, then looked away and shrugged as if in defeat before a half smile teased his lips. “I was going to say ‘awful,’ but that works too.”
She play-slapped his arm, relief and hope laying a much desired but still shaky foundation in her heart. “Well, that explains the sudden clumsiness, anyway. She feels threatened by our design plan, I guess.”
“As I’ve been trying to tell you for two days.”
“Do you think she sabotaged us because she saw that our lace looked better and was jealous? Or do you think she decided to make lace after we did and she stole the idea?”
Lucas kept working on the roses, with a surprisingly light touch. “Is either way less diabolical?”
She almost forgot her question; she was so focused on his work. She probably should have put him in charge of the roses from the beginning. Had he always been that talented? “Um, no.” That’s right. Piper. “No. Not really.”
“Then let it go and get back to the fondant and the lace.” He looked up long enough to send her a confident smile that sank into her toes. “We’re going to make it, you know.”
And if she held his gaze long enough, she could almost believe him.
fifteen
Lucas thought he’d been nervous when Kat stood before the judges’ panel the first time. But that had been nothing compared to the nauseating churning going on in his stomach right now.
He braced his hands against the cool edge of the workstation, wishing he could stand beside Kat and prevent her from facing the guillotine alone. But the assistants weren’t allowed “on the front lines”; they had to join their teammates in the lounge while the judges decided and then hang back at the workstations while waiting to know whether they were to congratulate or commiserate.
This show just continued to make less and less sense.
He let out a sharp puff of air, rocking back on his heels and refusing to make eye contact with any of the other team assistants at
their counters. He wasn’t up for putting on a mask and pretending like he wasn’t worried about the results of this round, and he definitely wasn’t up for any expressions of self-pity they might send his way. He and Kat had finished placing their decorations literally as the buzzer sounded—but one cupcake only received half its edible adornment. It was missing the lace border that made Kat’s valentine creation actually resemble a valentine.
The completed cupcakes on the plate looked amazing, of course. Kat had gone all out, and even a football coach like himself could appreciate the feminine, artistic, even girlie touches.
But it might not be enough. It might be over for them.
And wasn’t that okay?
Guilt gnawed like a mutt with a T-bone, and he slapped it away. He had to stop convincing himself it mattered. The results were out of his hands, and the verdict from the judges would determine what happened next—not him. Nothing was his fault, and he had no reason to hope for one particular outcome or another.
If he didn’t hope, he wouldn’t have to feel guilty.
Because he sort of knew which direction his feelings would slide if he set them completely free.
“All right, bakers, prepare to present your cupcakes.” Sam’s voice boomed over the set, and Lucas straightened so quickly his back popped. Finally. The moment of truth.
He schooled his features into what he hoped resembled comforting reassurance just as Kat looked over her shoulder at him, eyes wide and nervous. Her smile shook almost as much as her hands, and he gestured for her to cross her arms over her apron to hide the telltale trembling. If she couldn’t actually be confident, she could at least look the part.
Go out in style.
As Sam slid the first plates of cupcakes—from Real Bakers Ride Bikes—in front of each judge, the tension in the room tangibly heightened among the contestants. Tameka’s sister, Tonya, cleared her throat loudly. Then a second time.
He glanced at her, then did a double take as she pointed a hot-pink tipped nail at him. “Don’t you worry, now, son. I saw what that pretty little thing did to y’all’s decorations.”
Ha. Son? The vivacious woman might have five years on him. He saluted to show he wasn’t worried, and turned back to the action on the set. But she wasn’t finished. “The good Lord’s got you,” she hissed in a stage whisper. “And that sweetheart of yours over there too.”
The reluctant protest came automatically. “She’s not my—”
Tonya simultaneously lowered her chin and raised her drawn-on eyebrows, and Lucas knew it was pointless to argue. Especially with a woman.
Especially with a woman who was now quoting Scripture.
“ ‘Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.’ ” She jerked her head toward Piper’s tutu-covered backside. “You believe that?”
“I—well . . .” He never really thought about it, but if it was in the Bible, then it would be true. He shrugged. “Sure.”
The bad part was, he wasn’t all that concerned with whether or not Piper got what was coming to her, because her interference might be a blessing in disguise—might send them home early.
Home. Where he belonged—with Kat. Not with her holding his heart in one hand while she whipped up cupcakes with the other in New York City.
“Next up, we have Not Your Mama’s Cupcakes, from Louisiana. Tell us what you baked.” Sam reeled back in exaggeration and pointed to the camera zooming in on the half-naked cupcake in front of Thad. “Oh, man. And tell us what happened here, exactly.”
A muscle in Lucas’s jaw started to twitch. Sam knew what happened. He saw the whole thing, and so did the cameras. But that part might or might not make it on air. On the one hand, Lucas could see them using the “accident” for conflict and drama, but he could also see them leaving out the explanation entirely to focus on the conflict of Kat simply not having her cupcakes completed.
It could go either way. One viewpoint would make Kat look incompetent, while the other would make Piper look like a klutz. It would probably come down to whichever the producer thought would receive the highest ratings.
The question now was how Kat would answer Sam’s question.
Lucas held his breath, wishing he could will strength into her, but her voice barely even trembled as she lifted her chin. “We ran out of time on that last cupcake’s decoration because of having to remake our fondant lace to counter a last-minute incident.” She quickly changed the subject before Sam could interrupt, running through the components of her cake, and even Sam looked like he might start drooling by the time she finished describing the raspberry lemonade torte.
Attagirl.
The judges began tasting the offering, and exchanging expressions of surprise before scraping their forks against the muffin cups, gathering each crumb. Even the normally reserved and stoic Thad didn’t hesitate to lick icing off his finger.
The winning smile he shot at Kat, however, wasn’t reserved or stoic.
Lucas’s fist clenched, and he quickly flexed his fingers before shoving his hands into his apron pockets. What was wrong with him?
Or better yet, what was wrong with Thad? Was his jealousy radar just blitzing, or was there something legitimately inappropriate about the judge’s interactions with Kat? He hadn’t been hovering over any of the other cooking stations earlier during taping. If the same accident had happened to another contestant, would he have come over to inquire?
There was no way to know.
The judges continued through the rest of the entries, stopping occasionally for Sam to reshoot takes of his corny clichés, and then finally the contestants were dismissed to the waiting lounge.
Kat tugged him to the far corner of the brightly lit lounge. Away from the rest of the bakers settling on the couches, she lowered her voice to a whisper, her crestfallen expression proving she was predicting the worst even before she vocally confirmed it. “Everyone else’s cupcakes were great.”
It was so unlike her to be sad over someone else’s success that Lucas had to bite back a smile. “So was yours. I thought Dave was going to bite into the wrapper.”
“Maybe so, but I was the only one without all the decorations.” She twisted her fingers in front of her, the bold woman on the set replaced once again with one riddled with insecurity.
He instinctively pulled her into a hug and rested his chin on top of her head, inhaling the mixed aroma of flour and sugar and lemon. “You can’t change it now. You did your best.”
She pulled away, eyes narrowing with suspicion. “It sounds like you agree that we’re probably going to be eliminated.”
No. Well, maybe. He fought the urge to tug her close again. “It doesn’t matter. Either way, you did what you could with what you had to work with.”
“Is that what you would tell Tyler? Or the other guys on your team?” The spark was back in her eyes now, fiery and dangerous, which would have been great had it been pointed at anything other than him. “That they did their best, so losing was okay?” She wasn’t being quiet anymore. Or timid.
Or huggable.
“Piper sabotaged you.” He remembered to lower his voice just in time, grateful for the sound of the air-conditioning kicking on overhead to help drown out his words. “It wasn’t like you had a lot of options afterward. You should be proud of yourself.”
He didn’t mean for his words to sound so negative in context, but he couldn’t stop their flow. Maybe he really was hoping they lost, despite his previous efforts to curb that train of thought.
What a great friend he was.
But that was the problem. He didn’t want to be a friend. He wanted to be a lot more.
If he really loved Kat, though, would he be hoping for something so contradictory to her hopes?
His head throbbed.
“It’s not about being proud. It’s about advancing to the next round.” She glanced over her shoulder at the other contestants on the lounge furniture. “If Piper actually gets away with what she did . . .” Her voice trailed off
, but the message was clear. She didn’t want a pep talk. She wanted to win. She wanted it all to be fair.
Unfortunately, Lucas had been in the competitive industry long enough to know that a lot of people just didn’t play fair at all. And sometimes justice prevailed and sometimes it didn’t. “Look, Kat . . . I’m just saying you did an amazing job. You’re the best cupcake chef I know, regardless of what happens here in a few minutes.”
She nodded slowly, and gratitude flickered through her eyes, followed by a hint of another emotion he couldn’t identify.
But that mystery look of hers turned his stomach, because for one of the first times in his lifetime of knowing Kat, he got the feeling that his opinion wasn’t enough.
Never again would Kat take for granted standing in a line when her stomach wasn’t giving salsa lessons to the butterflies fluttering inside.
Just when they’d been ready to announce the loser of the round, Georgiana had asked to excuse herself, probably for the restroom. Then when she returned, there was a sound issue so they had to wait another fifteen minutes for the repair before they could proceed with taping. Apparently the producer was adamant about results being recorded only while they were actually being announced. Part of the “integrity” of the show, though Kat would blink twice about several other elements she’d seen so far in contradiction to that goal.
Finally, Sam stepped up on the set and got into position, which she now knew involved him clamping his hands behind his back and straightening his shoulders until his tux coat pulled taut.
Did she have a chance? Or would her poor, naked cupcake send her home? Thad had still seemed to enjoy it despite its simplicity, and decorations weren’t the highest scoring factor in this round. But still—an unfinished cupcake was a negative strike. In fact, she could only think of one episode where a contestant with an unfinished cupcake didn’t get sent home.
All’s Fair In Love and Cupcakes Page 13