All’s Fair In Love and Cupcakes

by Betsy St. Amant

  Why had she snapped at him like that about Stella? She should have known better. But that email, and her mood, and his betrayal from earlier about the burned cupcakes . . . She’d panicked. For those few moments in time, it seemed as if she had no one to trust, no one on her side at all.

  She was tired of distorted half-truths.

  At least she knew Lucas wasn’t lying. His story made a lot more sense than what she’d first thought, and if Lucas and Stella had never even talked about why he was asking to meet with her, then obviously Stella would have taken his invitation to be what it sounded like—a date with her sister’s friend. She didn’t know any different, and she didn’t seem to care that Lucas had changed his mind. Her sister’s entire life was spent either turning down or accepting dates, and she had too many men in her life to worry about one canceling on her.

  She’d say it must be nice, but it really wouldn’t be. Kat didn’t want a lot of men pursuing her.

  Just the one.

  She sagged against the counter by the sink and frowned at her reflection, at her own immaturity and neediness she couldn’t seem to tame. She hated these relationship games. And she and Lucas weren’t even in a relationship.

  Which was largely part of the problem.

  But he remained too blind, even after that blasted kiss, to do anything about it.

  Which wasn’t entirely fair, maybe, because in her heart she knew even if he did, it wouldn’t stop her from going to New York for a year—or longer—if given the opportunity.

  Talk about a no-win situation. She squinted at her reflection, sighed, and swiped her fingers under her eyes to remove the smeared mascara. Was she really mad at Lucas for not taking the initiative on something she couldn’t even accept in the first place? Mad at her best friend for not pushing their boundaries and throwing himself out there to be rejected by her?

  She just wanted to be wanted.

  Wanted him.

  But at the cost of her dreams?

  Ugh.

  She leaned forward, propping her elbows on the counter and burying her face in her hands. Her brain hurt. Too many options, too many possibilities, and all of them currently outside of her immediate control or choice.

  What if she lost the competition and remained in Bayou Bend for the rest of her days? Would Lucas decide to step up and change things between them then?

  And could she ever be content with that life? It wouldn’t be hard at all to be content with Lucas. But the rest of it—well, marriage, wouldn’t be enough forever. Not when she had all this stirring inside her, all these longings and this sticky need to prove herself, to push herself, to be and do.

  If she didn’t find her niche, her spot, her purpose, how could she be the wife Lucas would need in the first place? She didn’t want to be a burden, another mouth to feed or person to entertain and keep happy. She wanted to contribute, to flourish, to expand.

  She wanted to play the game with him, not stand on the sidelines and cheer.

  Part of her wanted to be content in Bayou Bend. But God had put these dreams in her heart for a reason, right? So what did that mean? Was she supposed to find contentment in the mundane, ignore her gifts and desires, and somehow find a way to bloom where planted?

  She really just wanted to bloom at Bloom.

  So if she lost . . . the outcome didn’t look good. She’d have to find a new route out of Bayou Bend on her own. Which was about two shades short of terrifying.

  But if she won . . .

  What if Lucas came with her?

  The idea floated just out of reach, like a butterfly flitting from flower to flower. There, and beautiful, yet uncatchable. She knew it wasn’t actually possible for Lucas to leave everything he had in Bayou Bend for her—but what if he did? What if he cared enough about her to follow her, for once, instead of her always being a step behind him?

  She didn’t need him as much as she thought she did. She’d proven that already on this trip, having to step up and take care of things herself, having to pep talk herself into victory. She really was capable. She could figure it out on her own, could survive on her own. She knew what she was doing.

  Realizing she didn’t need Lucas, however, only served to remind her how much she wanted him.

  Which was way, way, way worse.

  Knock knock knock.

  She jumped. Lucas.

  She’d won?

  “Kat.” His voice radiated through the thin door, as if he’d pushed his lips close to it. “Get out of there, already. I’m hungry.”

  There was the Lucas she was used to—borderline demanding coach voice and grumpy when he hadn’t eaten. She checked the time on her cell phone, which she’d stuck in her back pocket. No wonder he was hungry; they usually ate an hour or two earlier.

  “Kat!”

  “I’m coming.” She’d won. He’d come to her. She smiled at her reflection, but the victory didn’t feel as good as she’d hoped.

  In fact, it made her feel a little silly.

  She opened the door, embarrassed. “You pick. Anywhere you want to go.”

  “I vote whatever is closest.” He handed her the room key card she’d left lying on the entry table, shoved her purse at her, and ushered her out the door. It clicked shut behind them, and Lucas made an immediate beeline for the elevators.

  While she rushed two steps behind, trying to catch up.

  She’d teased him after he asked their taxi driver to take them to the nearest McDonald’s. But after they’d eaten double cheeseburgers and grabbed milkshakes to go, he’d put them back in a cab and instructed the driver to head toward Santa Monica—and he hadn’t heard a single complaint since.

  Now they were strolling on the famous Santa Monica Pier, and all previous tension between them had completely dissipated, right into the brisk October wind blowing off the Pacific. He watched Kat sip from her strawberry milkshake, grateful that for the moment, at least, everything was normal. No drama, no tension, no unanswered questions. No cupcakes or recipes or timers. No football stats or obligations or pressure to win.

  Just him, Kat, and a quarter mile of tourist-trap heaven.

  If they couldn’t find a way to breathe out here by the ocean . . .

  Kat shifted the pink bear he’d won for her to her other arm and tossed her cup into a nearby trash can. “Probably would have been cheaper to buy the bear outright.”

  “Hey, watch it.” Lucas sipped from the large root beer he’d bought after a dozen or more attempts at Skeeball, relieved she could tease him again and even more relieved that it didn’t offend him. “I finally made a decent enough score for a prize.” Sort of.

  She neatly dodged a little boy running toward them with a cone of cotton candy. “That, or the carnival worker felt sorry for you.”

  Definitely that. “Well, it’s not like they had a bunch of footballs lying around.”

  “Because you’d have nailed it.”

  “Exactly.” He laughed, then nudged her. “Glad we understand each other.” Again. Finally.

  They stood in a short line for the Ferris wheel, and as their car climbed toward the top, providing a stomach-dropping view of the shore and the waves below, Lucas opened his arm to Kat.

  She immediately nestled against his side, his arm draped around her shoulder, the stuffed bear in her lap.

  Here he was in such a hurry to get home, and home was already tucked right against him.

  Kat pointed out a street show of mimes down below, leaning slightly away to peer over the side of their car, and laughed. The sound danced on the wind, reminding Lucas of a hundred memories gone by and about a hundred more he wished to make.

  But there was something different about Kat on this trip, especially in the last few days. She was stronger, sharper—harder. More confident, more vocal.

  Louder.

  In some ways, it was a good thing, yet in others . . . not bad. Not exactly. Just not . . . right. Different.

  He didn’t like it.

  Didn’t like her
being more independent, not needing him as much. But hadn’t that been his goal all along? To help her stand on her own two incredibly capable feet and spread her wings? Bloom?

  Bloom. Man, there was that blasted bakery again, creeping into his thoughts. Interrupting every peaceful moment he’d almost captured. Threatening to steal whatever hopes he dared to hope.

  He still didn’t like Thad. Didn’t trust him. The man sent out a certain vibe, one Lucas couldn’t ignore any longer. And Kat would have no idea about a guy like that, not with having been so sheltered in Bayou Bend her entire life. She to this day had zero idea how strikingly beautiful she was.

  And how much of an idiot Chase had been. Stella might be a pageant winner, but Kat—she was the kind of woman a man wanted to spend his life with.

  And she could stop traffic all at the same time.

  “This was a good idea.” She leaned her head back against his shoulder, craning her neck to watch the star-studded sky above them.

  Lucas relaxed, despite the wind rocking their Ferris wheel car as they ascended, and he halfway wished the thing would get stuck for an hour or two. Down below, the mimes continued their performance, drawing a crowd of giggling tourists. Children shrieked from far away, and somewhere up the pier, music blared faintly from another carnival game. But up here, reality couldn’t touch them. They had their own world, one void of rules, expectations, and confusion. Just the two of them, like it used to be. Like it should be.

  Like it would be, if he could just get Kat home again.

  Despite the fact that kiss of theirs had messed up so much, he couldn’t help but want a repeat.

  In slow motion.

  He leaned forward, subtly inhaled the scent of her hair instead, and closed his eyes. Ran his lips across the silky dark strands. Wishing he could bury his hands in it, hold on. Hold her.

  “I just realized I never said I forgave you.”

  Her words cut the stillness of the night, and he pulled away, stiffened. Why had she brought it up again? But that was Kat, needing to know. Needing closure.

  He didn’t really blame her. Especially considering how their fight earlier had ended-but-not-really with a pillow fight, a locked bathroom door, and a growling, hungry football coach.

  “So, do you?” He tried not to hold his breath, but he couldn’t help it.

  She nodded against his shoulder, snuggled an inch closer. “How could I not?”

  Good question. He exhaled and squeezed her briefly, then joined her in looking up at the sky. Maybe it was the roar of the ocean waves, or the wide expanse of the blackness above him, or the feel of her hair brushing his chin, but something sort of put him in a retrospective mood too. “I shouldn’t have left you outside at the studio earlier. Even though you pretty much demanded it.”

  He still didn’t know why he’d let that door shut between them. He figured it would lock, and part of him hoped it would and that Kat would realize how immature she was being by running away. Yet the other half of him couldn’t venture farther than just around the inside corner, so that he’d be the first one to hear her knock for reentry.

  But someone else must have let her in, or maybe it hadn’t locked after all, because she’d come barreling inside right on time, no worse for the wear.

  “It was okay. I wasn’t out there alone anyway.”

  His double cheeseburger did a forward roll. “What do you mean?” But he already had a pretty good idea.

  She shifted slightly to look up at him. “Thad joined me. He was taking a smoke break.”

  Perfect. “What’d he say?”

  She absently twisted the leg of the pink bear in her lap. “He just asked if I was okay. Saw that things had gotten . . . hectic.”

  Hectic. Talk about an understatement. “What else did he say?” There was more. He could tell by the way she began plucking fur off the bear’s leg.

  “That he believed in me.”

  An unbiased judge, huh?

  She plucked faster. “And, you know . . . that I’m . . . pretty.”

  Now he just wanted to strangle the teddy bear. Thad. Outside, with Kat, alone behind the studio, complimenting her. Winning her over. Boosting her confidence.

  Man, the guy was slick. Slicker than Sam’s blasted hair.

  Their car jerked into a descent, sending the horizon into a momentary, dizzying blur of lights. “I told you I didn’t like that guy from the beginning.” His voice was stiffer than he meant it to be.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, I warned you about him.” He shook his head with a humorless laugh. “And I was right.”

  “Right about what?” Kat pushed against the side of the car, twisting to face him. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”

  Now she was defending him. “It’s not appropriate, Kat. How can you not see that?”

  “I only see one thing, Lucas.” She bit off his name as sharply as he’d spoken hers. He hadn’t meant it to sound condescending, but apparently it’d been worse than that. And apparently she hadn’t forgiven him as thoroughly as she’d thought.

  She squeezed the teddy bear with both hands, and he briefly wondered if she’d send the thing flying off the side of the Ferris wheel. “I see you overreacting, because, for once, someone else stepped in where you were supposed to.”

  His temper flared, hotter than the rush of indignant heat creeping up his neck. “What do you mean, supposed to? I’ve been your number one supporter from the beginning. And I’m pretty sure my motives behind that are a whole lot purer than that slimy judge’s.”

  “Thad is slimy now? Real mature, Lucas.” Kat raised her eyebrow at him, and he wished he could take a Sharpie and draw the thing back in place where it belonged. “He would have done the same thing for any contestant in my position.”

  “Right.” So, so naïve. “You really think he’d have been out there telling Piper or Tameka how pretty they are and that he believed in them?”

  She averted her eyes, calmly placing the teddy bear in a choke hold. “That’s not fair.”

  He snorted. “Yeah, you say that because I just shot your theory full of holes. Why can’t you just listen to me? Trust me? I know what I’m talking about with this guy.”

  “No, you don’t. Believe it or not, you’re not always right, Lucas.”

  Not always. But pretty close to it. He had to be right—he’d always been, his entire life, because people depended on him. If he wasn’t right, people got hurt. Like his football players, or his friends. Like his mom.

  Like Kat.

  He mentally counted to ten. First in English, then in French. Then again in Spanish and pig latin. “I’m right on this one. I can see it coming a mile away. You need to listen to me.”

  “Oh, I’m listening, all right.” Their car jerked to a stop as people climbed into an empty car down below. “I’m hearing you loud and clear. You’re just upset that you can’t control me anymore.”

  “Con—” He cut himself off with his own hand fisted against his mouth. Had she really just accused him of that? He lowered his hand slowly, wishing he knew any other language to count in. “Kat. Seriously? When have I ever controlled you?”

  “When have you ever not? You’re always giving me suggestions.” She air-quoted the word, letting go of the bear, which slid dangerously close to the front of the open-ended car. “Suggestions that are more like demands.”

  She was exaggerating. Yet a portion of her words pricked his heart with truth. Truth he couldn’t handle. “It’s not about control.” Was it? No. He wasn’t like that. He was a coach. He liked being in charge. He was good at it. People needed him to be good at it. Kat had always needed him to be good at it.

  Apparently that had just changed.

  He let out a sharp sigh. “I wasn’t trying to control you. Ever.” Maybe sometimes he had, by default. It was all for her sake, though. No one would ever take care of Kat like he would. No one would ever protect her like he would.

  No one would ever love her like he wo
uld.

  But wasn’t his making plans for their future without even telling her a prime example of being controlling?

  Now he couldn’t turn off his own conscience.

  Kat’s steady gaze burning into his own didn’t help, like she could read his thoughts. Like she knew them better than he did.

  She snatched the bear back from the edge of the car. “I’m not one of your players, Lucas. You’re not my coach.”

  Thank goodness, or they’d have killed each other long ago. But . . . “What are you trying to say?”

  “I’m saying, back off. Let me do this.” She pushed her hair from her eyes with both hands and tucked it behind her ears. Hard to believe just moments ago he’d been inhaling the heady scent of it. Why did everything between them have to be so extreme all of a sudden? He missed Kat’s consistency. Missed knowing that if he could ever count on anything, it was her. Them.

  What was happening?

  “You are doing it.” He lowered his voice, hoping to defuse the fight, but it only seemed to rile her up more.

  “Exactly!” Her eyes lit with a light he couldn’t quite place. One he didn’t recognize anymore. “You’ve always pushed me to try harder and reach further and put myself out there. Now that I’m doing it, now that I’m making it happen, you’re trying to hold me back.”

  He started to defend himself, started to run through his go-to list of automatic plays, but stopped cold. Was she right? He shut his mouth, pressed his lips together.

  There was absolutely nothing he could say.

  The Ferris wheel creaked into motion again, jerking them forward, back to the ground below. Back to reality.

  Back to an unpredictable future he couldn’t see.

  twenty-one

  Love is blind.”

  Kat fought the urge to roll her eyes at Sam’s overly dramatic presentation of round four. He stood solemnly before the cameras, hands clasped behind his suit-clad back, rocking slightly on the heels of his shiny shoes, delivering his monologue with all the seriousness of a Shakespearean actor.

  She stole a glance over her shoulder at Lucas, who stood at the ready at their empty workstation as she, Piper, and Tameka manned the front lines, ready to grab their ingredients as soon as Sam stopped droning on. Love might be blind, but it also opened one’s eyes to a lot.