I know I’ve forgotten more about baking than I cared to admit.
“I’ve been having nightmares about this,” Brody confessed. I was the only one to hear over the laughing, but then he was looking at me expectantly.
“Says the man who won every single one of their blind bake challenges.” I leaned in a little because I couldn’t knock elbows given we were packed in like sardines.
He sent me a soft smile and a shrug then dipped his gaze. I fought the desire to bury my hands in his soft silky hair and kiss him until neither of us could breathe.
I had one last thing to say as we stared at each other. “You’ll rock this.”
Chapter Ten
I bake because shouting at people is frowned upon
Brody
It didn’t matter what Justin said, I was nowhere near rocking this challenge.
They say pride comes before a fall and the blind bake was a simple chocolate wreath cake. Not difficult. Easy. Kids could make it. Kids wearing blindfolds and with one arm in a pocket could make it.
However, it seems as if I couldn’t bake to save my life today. I’d nearly burned cupcakes in round one, and now I was staring into the abyss of mess where there should be perfect cake.
I don’t know what went wrong. Pressure maybe? Or I’d spent too much time staring at the back of Justin’s head? Or was it the way the judges hovered at my bench just as I was taking my cake from the oven? Either way, the cake ended up cracking, and it wouldn’t come out of the cake pan the way I wanted it to.
I could make chocolate cake in my sleep.
Maybe that was it, maybe I should be asleep right now.
Okay, you’re losing it. Get this back.
“Oh no, what happened!” Courtney exclaimed in my ear. I jumped a mile. She stepped back in horror, and the cake tumbled sideways off the cooling tray and half fell into the sink. I managed to grab it. My fingers poked right through the cake, and Courtney squealed about how it was all her fault and how funny it was.
There’s nothing funny about losing the chance of getting past week one, receiving much-needed publicity and winning the prize money for my chosen charity.
“Backing away slowly,” she said with an innocent smile, and even though I wanted to throw the cake in her face, I gave her a smile back. Do not lose it now.
I was left staring down at the crumbled cake that was cracked and in pieces. How the hell was I going to create a circle from this mess? I couldn’t cut it into a rectangle smoothly. The buttercream might hide the mess but when they cut through the cream, they would see that it was only apricot jam holding it together.
Think. Think.
Justin turned to look at me then the cake then back at me, and he grimaced in support. I could see his from here, universally risen, cut into a precise circle. Fuck.
“No one says Christmas has to be perfect,” he murmured as the cameras moved away. “Just saying.” Then he turned back to his creation, and I wanted to snap at him that yes, this did have to be perfect. Smooth icing, gracefully decorated with chocolate work, and… wait.
I re-read the brief, which was, as the name suggested, nothing more than a few words on a page.
Create a chocolate cake wreath, sandwiched with apricot jam, covered in buttercream, and with suitable decoration handmade in your choice of chocolate.
I already had the jam finished, and it was cooling. I’d chosen the ruby chocolate and white that I intended to color green, and it was already tempered into leaves or ivy and holly along with perfect glossy scarlet berries. Nowhere on the brief did it say it had to be one smooth cake. Justin was right. I glanced at the other guys. Everyone’s cake looked like Justin’s, smooth, perfect, so I was fucked if I was being judged against their interpretation of the words.
A freaking child could make this much of a mess and get away with it but me? I couldn’t. Despair and self-doubt began to grow inside and then something hit me.
What if the story is that a child made this? A dad sitting and helping their kid, none of them knowing what they are doing. I had an elaborate back story about Timmy, Tammy, Teresa, and their dad Tom trying to make a beautiful thing for their mom Tara. Hit by inspiration, I