I was happy to get back in the room and not let one moment of embarrassment at my stupidity to think I could ask him for a coffee and maybe get to know him to ruin what I was doing.
Only my mood hadn’t recovered even as I baked my first batch of cupcakes, and I was only seconds away from burning them. There was now footage of me flailing on the floor balancing two hot trays of cupcakes while cursing that I’d not set a timer.
Great. Day one and I was messing things up. I’m better than this. I could imagine a client commissioning a cake and me telling them that I’m sorry I burned it. Not a great look for me.
“You okay down there?” Justin leaned over my counter, the muscles in his shoulders bunching as the cameras panned over my drama. I think he was trying for humor, but I read sarcasm.
“It’s all good,” I bit out and rolled to a stand. This wasn’t the first time I’d forgotten to set a timer, but my instincts were good. I wasn’t typically as stressed as this. Fucking Justin and fake flirtations.
Courtney appeared with the judges, and the cameraman stood to one side capturing me, my virgin cakes, and it was my time for a sound bite.
“Those look really nice,” Lewis said. “Not dry at all.” He turned to the camera. “Sometimes red velvet can be dry if it’s not removed from the oven at the exact moment.”
Thank you for underlining my momentary panic.
“Agreed,” I said and forced a smile. He was giving a silent warning that I was fucking things with his patented smug smile. Asshole.
“So tell us about your bake.” Venetia leaned into Lewis and smiled up at him. They had the on-show flirtation down. Was that what they wanted from me and Justin? Surely people saw through this shit like I did?
“I’m using a simple red velvet cupcake with an American buttercream flavored with kirsch and decorating with tempered chocolate.”
Lewis made a hmmm noise of concern and placed his hands on the counter to brace himself. “American buttercream can be very sweet.”
“Which will perfectly balance the kirsch,” I replied evenly.
“Do you think your idea is too simple?” He was pushing me, but I had to ignore him.
Did I? I blinked at him for a second at the trick question. “Not at all, when you’re making cupcakes, there isn’t a need for overcomplication, it’s about the flavor and the balance of sweet and sharp.”
Lewis did that hmmm thing again, and I waited for him to comment. He didn’t say anything else but keeping quiet after landing a particularly heavy comment was his stock in trade. He liked to make the contestants worry, which inevitably made them do something stupid. In my season, he’d implied to Paula, my closest rival, that her idea was too complicated. She removed embellishments and then he announced she should have pushed harder and marked her down. He knew how to play the game, and I had to be sure not to rise to it.
Then it was Venetia’s turn as his opposite judge, she was the good cop to his bad cop, and she had it down perfectly.
“Don’t listen to Mr. Grumpy,” she trilled as she placed a hand on his arm, her scarlet nail polish a perfect contrast to his emerald sweater. “Simple is good, I want to taste the kirsch and the sweetness of the cream, and I can’t wait to see your chocolate work.”
“Thank you,” I acknowledged but didn’t fail to pick up on her use of simple. They were a team in undermining my confidence, but I wasn’t going to rise to them. I was going to stay calm, cool, and in control. I hadn’t won season four by being intimidated.
“How is it going, Brody?” Courtney asked in her best hostess tone.
“Good,” I said and looked up at her from my bowl of butter. She wanted more. “It’s great to be back here and baking.”
They moved on to Justin’s bench after me. There was laughter, jokes, no hmmming. When I glanced over at Justin, he was bent over and looking in his oven. He made some joke about whipping his cream so hard that it flew up in his face.
All I could think was that the idiot was playing to the studio.
And also that he looked fine bent over like that, and his ass was perfect in his close-fitting jeans.
So fine.
Chapter Nine
A party without cake is just a meeting
Justin
If any of my followers knew what I was feeling when I started my bake they’d be horrified.
Shame was the overriding feeling.
I was ashamed of myself for letting Erin and the team talk me into anything as stupid as fake flirting with Brody and guilt was a close second. Then, wrapping it all up in glittery paper with a big fucking bow was the fact I was more worried about getting likes from strangers than the approval of the sexy man creating beautiful cupcakes at the bench behind me.
The black dog of anxiety and depression came and sat next to me, but I fed the imaginary specter imaginary kibble and my mood slowly lifted. I had a job to do and too many people had invested in me to mess this up by being attracted to a fellow contestant. Pretending to have an attraction was one thing, but there was something about Brody that made me feel weird.
Wrong.
Different.
Only last year I’d done an entire fashion show where flirting with the designer was the whole damn point. It didn’t hurt anyone and the number of contracts I got from that one event was ridiculous. What was wrong with a little bit of flirting?
Because Brody isn’t some shallow person who thinks that queerbaiting an audience is a good thing. He suggested we go for coffee and have a date. What is that all about? What kind of man asks me on a freaking coffee date?
The judges left my bench, and I stared down at the thank goodness perfect cupcakes. I might not be as good as the other five here but a guy didn’t win a baking competition without being able to bake a cupcake.
Now all I needed to do was think about what the hell I was going to do next. I could see Clare’s from here. She was already making some complicated sugar work that would suspend the cupcake. Who the hell did that in a ninety minute bake? There was no way in hell I had time to suspend anything. I heard Brody being interviewed. Apparently, his cupcakes were inspired by family Christmas and his dad’s favorite cherries, and all kinds of Christmas warmth.
Family Christmas was me on a sofa in my own place, doing some videos, maybe a filmed bake full of pretend Christmas cheer, and then watching The Grinch and identifying with the green anti-hero.
Pull it back. Rein in it. Think.
Buttercream. I was making buttercream. Well, that was one decision made. But the theme? Christmas music was a thing, and I could say my inspiration was for when I decorated trees. I liked certain songs. My favorite is a Greg Lake classic, and the video had camels in it. I peered at the cream and then my cakes. Camels weren’t going to work on a cupcake. In fact, I wasn’t sure camels would work for anything to do with baking.
What about other songs I like.
The cream was ready for coloring. Flavors.
Home. Presents under the tree. Music. Rose. Inspiration slammed into me and I dashed to the supplies area, pulled out what I needed, and then assembled my cupcakes, finishing with only seconds to spare.
Through all of it, even if I tried not to think about Brody, I was totally aware of him behind me. I was still embarrassed about suggesting he’d be up for a ruse to get me more likes. So, I ignored him and even when he and Ivan bantered across the benches about kirsch, I didn’t join in. I even had a comment on the tip of my tongue about cherries, but it was one of those things I would say then look coy. Right now, I wasn’t in the mood for pretending to be modest or having to look Brody in the face. I managed to get in a mention of cream plus stared into my oven with my ass in the air plus two rounds of “Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer.” That would have to do.