Cupcakes and Christmas - R.J. Scott Page 0,22

wasn’t difficult as long as the gingerbread snapped and the icing consistency was good. The last one I’d made had been some time ago. One of my first Instapost was a stop frame of me making a house, but it was also one of the first times that a team had stepped in to pretty it up. Apparently, the photos weren’t working for them, and since I was using a particular product that I was endorsing it had to be on point.

I didn’t need a team for tomorrow though, not even I could fuck up a gingerbread house.

Please don’t let me fuck up the house.

Dressed and ready to go downstairs I was nearly out the door, but at the last minute, actually with my hand on the handle, I stopped. “I’m tired,” I said to the empty room. “Also, I don’t really have anything clever to say to anyone. I should sleep. Maybe research a few taste profiles for the cupcakes.” One quick call to reception to pass on a message to the rest and to order room service, I sat at the desk and turned on my iPad.

With a plan finally in mind, and my burger and fries eaten, I checked the time. Just after nine p.m. and I was too wired to sleep. Maybe a walk would help but not inside because I craved some quiet time. Wrapped up in my coat, I headed down the back stairs and out into the courtyard, staying close to the edge and then heading along a winding path that hadn’t been cleared since the new snowfall and continued into the wooded area. The path had tall lamps every so often, enough so I could walk without wandering off into the dark, but other than that, there was a cozy quietness about this walk. That was when I noticed Brody.

“Hey!” I called, and Brody stopped so suddenly he pinwheeled on the snow and ended up on his ass on the ground. I scurried as fast as I could to catch up with him as he heaved himself up to stand, brushing off the snow that was all over him. “Shit, my bad.” I genuinely was sorry for not thinking everything through. Story of my life.

“It’s fine.” He grinned at me. Hell, he was always freaking smiling, did he ever stop?

I gripped his arm as he slid again, and he laughed out loud as he made a show of planting himself steady on solid ground.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“I thought I was the only—”

We spoke over each other. “You first,” I managed to say before he could get another word in.

“I thought I was the only idiot out for a walk in the snow.”

“No, I’m an idiot as well.” What? What did I just say?

He gestured to the path ahead. “You want to keep going? Together?”

“Lead on.”

We fell into step and headed off down the hill away from the mansion, following the twisty turning path that had been cleared at some point judging from the piles of snow either side but was already covered in a couple of inches of new snow. There had been a sign at the start of the path warning people that the way hadn’t been cleared, but I didn’t do well with warnings.

“Give me a warning and I do the opposite,” I blurted into the companionable silence.

“Huh?” He cautiously bypassed a snowman someone had built on the side that had toppled onto the path.

“The sign at the beginning saying the path wasn’t recommended for guests.”

“Oh, that sign.” He sounded distracted, and then he stopped. “No, I can’t do it. I can’t leave it.” I stopped walking and slid a little, and he reached out to steady me. “Wanna do something stupid?” he asked.

Part of me wanted to say yes, particularly if it meant he was propositioning me in the snow in the middle of the goddamn night.

“Help me fix a snowman?” he said and turned around. That wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, but it was better than going back to my room and worrying about the fact I was going to fuck up the first round of the competition. “Some kid will wake up tomorrow, and they’ll expect to see their snowman here, and they’ll end up crying.”

“It’s okay, you had me at snowman,” I lied and between us we righted the fallen figure. Mostly what had happened was that his head had slipped off, probably when the tree above let loose a lump of snow on