Frosting Her Christmas Cookies - Alina Jacobs Page 0,12

be harassing everyone in the room?” I asked crossly.

“Nope,” he said. “Today, the dating activity is you all decorating the window of my store.”

“You mean free work.”

“And a snack!” he said, stealing a piece of the chocolate. “But right now, I am free to flirt with whomever I choose.”

I shoved him out of the way with my shoulder—or tried to. His chest was solid muscle. He didn’t even budge.

I was already furious that I was here for another episode. Now I had to deal with Jonathan! It was too much. I gritted my teeth against his running commentary.

“Why are you putting pumpkin in those brownies? That’s not Christmas,” he remarked as I mixed up the pumpkin with brown sugar, cinnamon, and nutmeg. “That’s a Halloween ingredient.”

“I wish it were Halloween,” I said. “But we have three hundred thirty days left.”

And my Halloween dessert was my ticket out. No one was going to vote for a person who made pumpkin cream cheese bourbon brownies at a Christmas bake-off, even if they were gooey and amazing and delicious. I liked a rich brownie with big chunks of dark chocolate. To the cream cheese, I added a bit of lemon and sugar and egg to give it a richer taste. I folded it and the pumpkin-bourbon mixture carefully into the brownie batter to make pretty white-and-orange chocolate swirls.

“Happy Halloween,” I said under my breath as I put the pan in the oven for ten minutes and cleaned off my table while I waited for it to bake.

After taking the pan out of the oven, I stuck it in the blast freezer to cool and to stop the cooking process. It wasn’t a brownie if it was crumbly and overdone. After a few minutes, it was solid enough that I could cut it into perfect squares and set them on a plate for the producers to take photos and B-roll of them with the alcohol I had used. When they were done, I put a few squares on a plate with me to take outside. They were the middle pieces, of course; only heathens liked edges and corners.

Because I had made a simple dessert, I was done before the rest of the bachelorettes. After being cowed by my winning the first round of baking, they all seemed to be trying to up their game. Good. I refused to stay here another week.

The cameras followed me as I made my way to the showroom of the Hillrock West Distillery, where Jonathan was talking with one of his employees.

“Aw, did you come out early to spend more time with me?” he mocked when he saw me.

“Nope. I came out here to fix your disaster of a store.”

“No Halloween themes,” he warned, stealing a brownie. He took a bite, and his eyes lit up. “Holy shit. That’s fantastic!”

“That’s for the decoration!” I scolded, trying to swipe the brownie out of his hand.

But he held the dessert aloft. “Guess you’ll have to jump for it!” he teased.

“If there weren’t cameras on me, I’d throw these in your face,” I hissed at him.

“So you want me covered in chocolate. Good to know. I’ll keep that in mind for when Dana wants everyone to do a very intimate date with me.”

I froze. There was no way in Christmas hell I was participating in any intimate activities with Jonathan. I had to make sure I was out of the contest by then.

8

Jonathan

I was miffed that Morticia didn’t want to go on an intimate date with me. I mean, come on! It was me! Every woman in Manhattan wanted me—except Morticia, it seemed.

She was already inspecting her assigned window of the showroom adjacent to the bar at the base of the Hillrock West Distillery offices. She was sketching something intently. The other bachelorettes had finished their desserts and were streaming into the showroom and bar to stand at their assigned windows.

“You have the rest of the day to decorate,” Anastasia told them. “When it’s dark, time’s up, and we will be reviewing everyone’s dessert-and-window combo. Remember, part of being Mrs. Frost is being able to support Jonathan in his professional endeavors.”

“I think you mispronounced ‘unpaid labor,’” Morticia said loudly.

“I’m the payment,” I reminded her.

“Some payment,” she scoffed. “I can’t even sell you at a consignment shop.”

I ignored her and walked around to watch the rest of the contestants decorate. I needed to just leave Morticia alone. She wasn’t worth the hassle.

The rest of the girls were giving the challenge their best shot.