Frosting Her Christmas Cookies - Alina Jacobs Page 0,11
I was going to expense to Gunnar and Dana. I had ignored their calls and text messages stating that I needed to be in the apartment with the other baking bachelorettes. I would surely be leaving today, and I didn’t see the point. Especially since my cousin was there.
Keeley was three workstations over from me, wearing a sexy gingerbread girl costume that exposed her midriff and pushed her boobs up to her chin. She had always been boy crazy, not to mention just plain ol’ crazy. The months Lilith and I had been forced to live with our aunt and uncle after our mom split had been the worst of my life. High school had been torture enough without having to come home to the same person who had tormented us in the hallways.
I almost wished she and Jonathan would end up together. Almost. Jonathan was a prick, but I couldn’t in good conscience wish Keeley on anyone—not even that Jonathan.
He was leaning casually against the butcher block judges’ table, one arm gripping the edge behind him, his body twisted like a perfect David statue.
Except I bet his dick is like five times as big.
Stop thinking about his package!
Jonathan’s blue eyes met mine from across the room, and I lowered my head, letting my bangs fall into my eyes.
Five minutes, then you’re out of here.
I already had an Uber ordered. Lilith was outside with Salem. As soon as I returned to Harrogate, I would make a big pot of tea and bake an eggnog pound cake.
Wait, Christmas baking? No freaking way!
“Welcome to day two of The Great Christmas Bake-Off!” Anastasia announced. “I know we’re all anxious to move on to the next challenge and take another step closer to Jonathan finding his true Christmas love. Based on the judges’ rankings, there was a clear favorite and a clear weak dessert. Morticia and Heather, could you please step up? Heather, the judges said that your baked Alaska was essentially inedible.”
“But I made it with love!” Heather started sobbing.
If I were a normal reality contestant, I would have pretended to comfort her. Instead, I crossed my arms. I had seen that baked Alaska. It was tragic.
“You can’t serve people raw eggs,” I chided her.
“Gosh, you’re such a bitch!” she cried. “Jonathan, I love you! We’re meant to be together.”
“Keeley, would you please step forward,” Anastasia said over the sobs.
My cousin pranced into line.
“Keeley,” Anastasia said, “you were voted the fan favorite.”
“Of course I was,” she preened. “Jonathan and I are going to have a picture-perfect Christmas wedding.”
I smirked to myself as the billionaire’s eyes widened slightly in horror.
“You were the fan favorite,” Anastasia repeated, “tied with Morticia, that is.”
“What? There has to be some mistake,” my cousin insisted. “No one likes her.”
“I assure you that we have Quantum Cyber providing top-notch security on our online voting system,” Anastasia informed her. “Morticia, since you also were the judges’ top pick for yesterday’s baking competition, this means you have won the first episode. Congratulations! You may return to your stations.”
No. No, no, no.
I’m not supposed to be here!
“Heather, you are, unfortunately, going home. Please pack up your baking tools.”
“No!” she wailed, collapsing in a heap on the floor and throwing a literal tantrum. “She’s supposed to be going home. I’m supposed to marry Jonathan!”
I was still in shock as I gathered my ingredients for the next bake-off contest.
I wanted to corner Belle and demand to go home, but there were cameras on me. As much as I wanted to make a scene, Lilith was right. I didn’t want the Getty internship committee to see a crazy video of me online and decide they didn’t want me anywhere near their museum.
Jonathan was waiting at my station when I returned with my basket of ingredients.
“Guess you like Christmas and me more than you care to admit,” he prodded, looking me up and down.
His gaze was intense. I suddenly wished I still had my reindeer costume on. I was wearing a form-fitting mock corset top with long sleeves over black skinny jeans. I was fully covered except for my face and hands, but standing in front of him, I felt like I wasn’t wearing anything at all.
“Apparently there is an inverse correlation between your skills as a baker and how much filler you have injected into your lips,” I said as I started shaving a large brick of glossy dark chocolate.
Jonathan laughed, the sound reverberating deep in his chest. It made my teeth vibrate.