Cupcakes and Christmas - R.J. Scott Page 0,19

was a small price to pay for everything I could achieve. Even if Marc had called me weak for not going to the gym. Weak? I hadn’t had the time to think about me when I worked every hour I was given.

I heard Justin laugh. God, he had an amazing laugh, all kinds of cute and sexy and—

Stop this shit. Focus.

Ivan took the baton from me, talked about his cat for some reason, then Clare did her spiel about technicality and how she was here to win, and we were done, the big intros finished.

“Okay, guys, that’s a wrap. Be back here at 8 a.m., first bake cupcakes, and we’re giving you a heads up way ahead of time so make this count. The theme is general Christmas and starts filming at ten. Any questions?”

No one said anything. We’d all been here before.

“Okay then,” Derek said and clapped his hands. “Venetia, Lewis, Courtney, a moment please for voice over clips.”

The six of us bakers stepped back and away, the jingle bells on Shauna’s sweater jangling in time to her steps, and then finally we were all in a back room which would become makeup central. We took off our Christmas sweaters, replacing them with our normal clothes. I used wipes to clear the gunk from my face, the touch of base and powder that we had to have, and then I was ready to leave. I pulled on my jacket and changed from shoes to boots. I’d walked here, and I was walking back.

“You heading to the Fairmont?” Justin asked from where he sat at the counter removing makeup.

“Yes. I’m walking. Thought I would clear my head, think about things.”

“Okay if I walk with you?”

My chest tightened. My libido did a dance. Hell, I would probably get a hard-on now.

“And me!” Ivan announced.

“I’ll do that,” Shauna added.

My cock settled back to sleep, like a hamster in a nest, foiled by the other contestants, all of whom wanted to walk over the grounds to the hotel as well. Why did no one drive anymore?

We set out, naturally falling into groups of two, but I was with Shauna, who was rambling on about jangling bells, and not with Justin, who was in deep conversation with Clare over something that must have been important the way she was clinging to his arm. She was doing that whole please don’t let me slip thing.

I was pissed I hadn’t thought of it first.

Chapter Seven

Pro tip – keep cake moist by eating it in one sitting

Justin

Clare gripped tight to my arm as we walked back to the hotel.

“So what ideas do you have for tomorrow?” I got the feeling that she wasn’t asking out of interest. I sensed a cold calculation in the question, and I wonder what she’d think if I told her I had no concepts in my head. So, as was usual in Justin-world, I winged it completely.

“I’m not entirely fixed on a final decision.” Fixed? Final? I didn’t have one idea, let alone several to choose from. The remit for the first round was to create twenty-four cupcakes, all exactly the same, embellished with the theme of general Christmas. I could bake cupcakes blindfolded, but whether I could make them crazy good like the other season’s winners was something else altogether. Typically for the beauty shoots I shared on social media, I had a chef or two at hand to fix whatever imperfections the camera would show, but here I was on my own. After cupcakes, it was the mystery challenge, set by the judges, both of whom were experts in the field, and it could be anything from making choux buns to creating the Eiffel Tower out of shortbread. We wouldn’t know until the very moment we pulled back the cream-colored sheet that would be covering the ingredients. Then of course there was the showpiece, the final bake to wow the judges, which could be the difference between staying and going.

“You’re so creative to have more than one,” Clare murmured, but to me, it sounded as if there was sarcasm in her tone. I genuinely wished that she wasn’t clinging to me like a limpet, in fact, I’d prefer it if Brody was the one holding my arm.

If he slipped I could catch him or let him fall into the snow and topple onto him, gently, and maybe we could sneak a kiss—or more.

“Not so much creative as still choosing the best direction,” I lied, but she wasn’t listening to me.