aspect might score you a little extra, but in this contest, taste is king.”
“We’ve so got this in the bag,” Burke mumbled.
“Contestant number one brings us the Boozy Banana Cream pie, ladies and gentlemen.”
Oohs and ahhs broke out over the crowd. The judges perked up as the volunteers—a group of high schoolers—brought a piece for each. Traditionally, the judges would take just one bite, make a few notes on their scorecard, and move on to the next pie. Occasionally they ate two bites, and rarely—very rarely—they’d take a third.
“Contestant number two has made her special purple sweet potato pie,” Tom announced when the judges were done. The helpers replaced the plates with the new ones and headed backstage once more.
Burke shook his head. “This is going to take a while.”
Justine nodded, eyeing him as he lifted her hand, brought it to his lips, and pressed a soft kiss to it. He dropped his chin slightly, nuzzled his nose softly against her cheek, and kissed her there as well.
Heat swirled low in her tummy as he glided his lips along her hairline, teasing her with his heated breath, and planted another kiss on her forehead.
Justine bit her lip and sighed. She didn’t want his attentions to end. Ever. Which gave her even more reason to want to win this. And to have Burke win it too. After all, he’d promised to attend the lighting of the tree if they did.
“Contestant eight brings us the French Kiss Pie,” Tom announced.
A small squeal sounded from Brittany’s spot a few seats down. That sounded like a name she would use, and it seemed she wanted people to know it was hers too. Justine paid close attention to the judges’ reaction. It seemed this pie had simply a crust with chocolate covered strawberries on top.
A dart of irritated heat shot through her as several of the judges took a second bite. Two even took a third.
“Crap,” she said under her breath.
“She’s not going to win,” Burke said, showing that he knew where Justine’s thoughts were.
And as the judges tasted pies with one extravagant name after the next, Justine’s worry grew. How would theirs measure up to pies like the butterscotch praline cream or the Drunkin Punkin Pie, a name that earned a half-smile from one judge? There was no telling who made the cherry ganache pie or the whisky walnut pie, but one thing was very sure, the velvety vegan pie—that one came from Willow Stein.
“You didn’t tell me we were last,” Burke said quietly.
“Well, folks, we’re approaching the end now. I hope you judges have saved room for contestant number fourteen who brings us a pie named…oh, apple. Apple pie.”
There were no oohs for this one. No ahhs. One person in the audience clapped.
Burke shot her a disturbed look. Justine felt her face flush red as she tried to ignore eye contact. She already knew what he was thinking. She was thinking the very same thing. Why hadn’t she thought to call it something clever or cute like the others?
Justine kept her eyes pasted on the judges as they lifted forkfuls of the pie to their lips. Burke’s hold on her hand tightened as he did the same. A pleased smile toyed with her lips as six of the seven judges went in for a second bite.
Burke gulped.
Four of the judges took a third bite. At once the group set down their forks, lifted their pencils and attended the scorecards.
“Let’s give our judges a moment to get their scores worked out,” Tom said. “In the meantime, enjoy a song by Piney Falls Tiny Chorus Group. They’ve prepared a special number for you.”
Mrs. Whipple led the small group onto the stage. Once the music started, Burke leaned in.
“Apple pie? You could have called it Apple The Great. Or Kick-butt Apple A la mode.”
“A la mode means with ice cream on top.”
Burke shook his head. “You know what I mean.”
“Well, at least they didn’t say it was strawberry rhubarb. I barely remembered to have them change it at all.”
He shifted in his seat and set his eyes on the judges. “You know what? It’s better that you didn’t. We don’t need all that fluff. They’re going off taste first and foremost? Ours is going to win it.”
Justine grinned.
“Dang, those guys are cute,” he mumbled. “Look how the little guy on the right is so…into it.”
She chuckled. “Yeah, that’s the Jensen’s boy. He’s so cute.”
“And that little gal in the center with the curly hair. That looks