Cupcakes and Christmas - R.J. Scott Page 0,42

called back a goodnight.

I never did get to finish my apology or let the building emotions have a way out.

Chapter Twelve

The more you weigh, the harder you are to kidnap. Stay safe, eat cake

Brody

“Tell us about your gingerbread house, Brody.”

Courtney leaned on my bench, and I glanced up at her before concentrating back on my gingerbread mixture.

“I’m making a Victorian toy shop, complete with lemon-iced toys, cinnamon trees, and a rainbow gingerbread awning.”

“That sounds like a lot to do in just three hours,” she said.

And that is why I want you to go away.

“I planned everything to the last minute. It’s under control.”

“What kind of toys will you have inside your toy shop?”

“It’s a secret.” I winked at her and the camera panned to my face. “I don’t want to give the others all my ideas.”

“Who said we’d want them!?” Ivan called over, and there was the cue for witty banter that we’d been told had been lacking in yesterday’s filming.

“You wish you had my secrets,” I called back, and Ivan tossed a ball of icing at me which I batted back at him with the spatula in my hand. He caught it and snorted a laugh. Courtney backed away slowly, holding her hands up to the camera and faking horror.

“I’m getting out of the way.” She laughed before heading over to Shauna, who was grinning hard even when the camera wasn’t on her. I went back to concentrating, thinking about my flavor profiles, pulling out templates, measuring everything carefully, and checking that the caramel I was using to hold my pieces together was just the right kind of sticky mess. I was using a hinge mechanism on the door so that it could be opened to reveal the toys inside, and as long as this was structurally sound the decoration was just the icing on the cake, so to speak.

In front of me, Justin was happy sunshine brightness, and it was difficult to concentrate, particularly when he did a half cartwheel, nearly taking out his own bakes, and then flirted outrageously with Courtney.

We’d connected last night, and I even felt like there had been the start of something genuine. I actually believed he meant what he said, but we didn’t have time to talk because the coward that I am, I ran to my room and locked myself inside. Adam’s words about taking chances weren’t going to sit well when I needed to block out Justin, and my unfortunate attraction to the man whose entire life was built around what people thought of him.

The hinge of my door didn’t immediately work, and I lost myself in fixing it to my liking, ignoring the call that we only had an hour left and then began decorating my toys with lemon-infused icing, colored brightly. I was aiming for a flavor combination at odds with the colors, a playful attempt to make the judges smile as they ate the side of my jack-in-a-box or bit the head off my rocking horse. I stepped back a little to check all sides with a critical eye, wondering what else it needed, and with ten minutes remaining if I had time to add anything big. I was happy. The buttercream snow, the paper-thin awning that was colored shortbread… perfect. To me, it invoked an old-fashioned Christmas, and I hoped the judges agreed.

“Oh no!” I heard Shauna exclaim, and I glanced over as she just stared crestfallen at the ground. Half of her house had slipped off the counter and onto the floor. I immediately went over to help her. She was crouched picking up the pieces, and she gripped my hand to stop me from assisting. “I want to go home,” she whispered, and I understood.

The judges loved my house, and Justin’s, although his use of something called KlecksoCream was commented on. They wish he’d used real cream for the snow, but he’d justified that what he’d used looked more snow-like. I thought I caught something in his expression, a wince as he spoke, but it might have just been the lighting. The judges had words to say about Ivan’s and Kristen’s and spent so much time gushing over Clare’s three story apartment block complete with a parking lot covered in snow, no kidding, that I was sure she’d won this round.

We were ordered to sit on the stools, and again I was next to Justin, who patted my knee as he sat down. “Loved yours,” he said for the camera.

“Loved yours,” I returned and