by Alina Jacobs
“He sounds insufferable,” I said as I carefully removed seeds from the pile of bright-red pomegranates.
“He had a terrible childhood with a cold mother,” Amber continued. “He needs a good woman to take care of him.”
“And you're going to be the one to help him,” I said, trying not to gag.
“Of course. Once he realizes we're meant for each other, he'll whisk me off to his castle,” she said dreamily.
“He has a castle?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“He will once I tell him to buy me one,” Amber insisted as a cherry pit flew out of the metal device and hit me in the face.
“Oops,” Amber said. She’d clearly meant to do that.
The first tart would be a vanilla-bean custard on a pomegranate crust, with a brûléed sugar crust on top. The caramelized sugar would be as golden as the Christmas ornaments that sparkled around the room. To make the crust, I lightly folded in the bright-red pomegranate seeds, speckling the dough pink and red.
The second was a chocolate tart crust with a pomegranate filling and a thin layer of chocolate ganache on top. This tart would be less sweet but very rich. The third type would be a chocolate tart on a vanilla butter crust, with a layer of pomegranate reduction with candied pomegranate seeds to decorate it and provide a little tartness.
I was straining my pomegranate juice as Penny and Morticia skirted around the cameras to come talk to me.
“Morticia says you make baking subscription boxes,” Penny said excitedly.
“Yes. I need to send another batch out tonight actually.” I gestured to my tarts. “Since I'm already in the mood, I may make tarts, along with cookies.”
“Can we do a special on your Taste My Muffin baking boxes?” Penny asked. I'd heard Morticia talk about the bubbly redhead but never met her. And what I'd heard had made me slightly jealous. Penny seemed like she had her shit together—fun creative job, rich, handsome boyfriend, clothes that were free of batter and flour.
“Sure!” I replied.
“I've seen your Instagram. It's so much fun!”
“You mean raunchy,” Morticia said.
“Guys like a little excitement,” Penny said, lightly nudging me with her hip. “Hey, I'm not judging! I have my Queen of Tarts baking brand. My videos attracted all sorts of random guys!”
“I'm surprised Garrett hasn't made you give it up,” Morticia said.
“I think he's pretending that if he ignores it, it will go away. Not that I have time to do videos for my channel anyway. Though I did want to be on this season of The Great Christmas Bake-Off,” she said wistfully.
“Seems like you got the better end of the deal,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound jealous.
“To be honest,” Penny said, “I'm actually not that great a baker. You're doing very fancy stuff here.”
“It's just a tart.”
“Hardly! I don't think I could ever make my chocolate mousse so creamy!” Penny said, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “So, can you do the subscription baking boxes tonight? I need content to feed the digital beast.”
“Sure!” I said. Then I chewed on my lip. “So are we really living in Owen’s penthouse?”
“Oh my God! Morticia told me what happened. I'm so sorry about that. Belle, his sister, told us we could use his condo since it's bigger and there will be better camera angles. I guess he never got the memo.”
I thought about Owen shirtless in the bedroom, his intense blue eyes, his chiseled, muscular body.
“He's grouchy and set in his ways. Don't mind him,” Penny assured me.
“But where is he staying if we're in his house?” I asked in concern.
“He has another condo,” Penny assured me. “It's much smaller, but he'll live.”
8
Owen
It was nonstop baking when I went back down to the studio for the final judging later that afternoon. Holly was the first contestant to present. Based on my conversation with her earlier, I was expecting a simple chocolate tart. That was not what was set before me.
“In the spirit of Christmas and making people shimmy—” she did that motion that made her tits jiggle again “—I've prepared Christmas tarts three ways,” she said as I carefully cut each of the perfect round little tarts in half. The red one looked like it would be less sweet. The pomegranate glaze was sticky and slightly tart, and the vanilla custard stuck to my tongue. I swallowed. I needed a glass of water, or better yet, some whisky.
“It's fine,” I said, pushing the plate away.
“Fine?” Holly said. “Well, I suppose that's the best I get from the Christmas-hating grinch.”
No one talked to me like that. Who did Holly think she was?
“I love the presentation on these,” Anu gushed. As a pastry chef herself, I was sure she had more relevant comments to make than anything I could come up with.
“I love how instead of doing several radically different tart flavors, they were all variations on a theme,” Anu continued. “It's subtle but clever.”
“Yes, it shows a lot of thought,” Nick added. “Also, if I'm not mistaken, you’re a bit of a familiar face?”
Did they date or something? Also, why do I even care?
“Yes, I worked at one of your restaurants last year on the pasta line,” Holly replied.
Wait, she did? That seemed like a waste of talent. Even if I didn't care for the dessert she had made, I could see she knew what she was doing.
“I hope you had a good experience!” Nick said with a laugh. “If you ever come back to one of my restaurants, I'll have to put you on the dessert station. As you can see, I ate all of mine!”
“As did I,” Anu said, smiling. “I'm about to eat part of Owen's too.”
“I think we'd all like a bite of Owen!” Holly said, looking at me from under her lashes. She and Anu laughed, as did Anastasia.
The next contestant was Amber. She watched me as though she might actually take a bite out of me.
“And what did you bake for us?” Anu asked.
“This is a cherry spice cake trifle. I made my own boozy cherries and layered them with a caramel nutmeg custard, holiday ginger-and-orange spice cake, whipped cream, and candied walnuts.”
I looked down at the tall crystal glass.
“It's very rustic,” Nick said after a moment.
“I know the secret to a man's heart,” Amber declared. “He wants simple, honest food.”
I wasn't sure how to eat the dessert. As much as I didn't care for Penny's tart, I'd rather eat that than the trifle. Somehow it was both too sweet and too flavorful.
Nick dumped his glass out on the table and dissected it, tasting each piece. “There's a lot going on, and none of it is very good.”
“Owen, thoughts?” Anu asked as she took a small bite.
“I think Holly's dessert was better.”
Amber's face screwed up when I said that.
Fiona was next. She had made a more restrained miniature orange cheesecake with candied cranberries and other winter fruits.
“If you want to make a rustic yet refined dessert, this is the way to do it,” Anu said. “Nicely done.”
The rest of the contestants hadn’t done anything all that interesting. There was a smattering of cakes and pies, but for the most part, we were served ice cream after ice cream. I didn’t care for desserts, and I really hated ice cream. Why ruin something cold with all that sugar and milk?
“A lot of restaurants, many of mine included,” Nick explained to me after Anastasia had herded the contestants to the greenroom, “have cut desserts from the menu and don't employ a pastry chef, let alone a whole crew. They'll have, say, one of the line cooks make ice cream because it's cheap and easy. So now not just on TV shows like this but everywhere really, all these kids know how to do is make ice cream.”
“Some of it was imaginative,” Anu said diplomatically.
“What about that parfait that Amber made?” Nick asked.
“I don't
know anything about desserts, but why is she even here?” I said. Anu made a face at the mention of the parfait. “Let’s boot her.”
Gunnar came over, fiddling with his headset. “Just a note: Amber is our drama for this season, so you guys can't boot her for several more episodes at least. Cool?” He flashed a thumbs-up. “You're doing great! You're already trending on Instagram, Owen. All the celebrity blogs are talking about your being a judge.”
“Great.”
“You ready to announce?” Gunnar asked.
“We've made our decision. Owen, are you okay?”
“I'm fine with whatever you all want. You are the experienced chefs.”
“And you're here as eye candy!” Anu giggled.
The contestants filed out, lining up in front of us. Holly was directly in front of me. She kept fidgeting with her dress, smoothing it down, running her fingers along the collar. Was she flirting with me?
“Would Holly and Jin-Yoo please step forward?” Anu said. “Jin-Yoo, while the ice cream was tasty, it just wasn't as complex or imaginative as the other desserts. You had several hours to cook. We expect a bit more from contestants. Holly, your dessert was classic tart, yet had a subtle refinement and intelligence about it. Congratulations, you've won this round. Jin-Yoo, best of luck.”
I checked my phone as I handed back the microphone after the cameras finished their close-up of Jin-Yoo's teary face as Anastasia hugged her.
I had ten messages, and they were all from my brother Jack.
9
Holly
I was riding high on my first big win. Maybe I could do this! Maybe I could turn my life around. I didn't want much. Just a kitchen big enough to make a wedding cake and a freestanding tub. Ideally, the tub wouldn't be in the kitchen, but I could make it work if I had to.
I did feel a little bit bad that we had kicked Owen out of his own home, though it was a very nice penthouse.
“Such a pretty kitchen!” I purred, hugging the white marble countertops as Penny and Zane set up to shoot. “Seriously, I bet Owen doesn’t even cook in here. Speaking of which, I’m starving.”
“There's leftovers in the fridge from Thanksgiving,” Morticia said with a slight smirk.
“OMG! Thanksgiving leftovers!” I dumped the turkey, corn-bread stuffing, and sweet potatoes on a plate and heated them up in the microwave while I sketched out what I was going to bake.
“I have to send out boxes for my new subscribers from November,” I said. “I was thinking tarts, chocolate chip-mas cookies, and gingerbread cookie bars. I have a hundred and twenty boxes to mail out.”
“That many?”
“Yes, and that was just from Thanksgiving week!” I told Morticia. “Ever since the drum up for The Great Christmas Bake-Off started, I've had more people wanting to order a Taste My Muffin subscription box!”
“Seems like a lot,” Morticia said as I blew on the turkey and stuffing. She took out a fork and snuck a bite.
I smiled at her.
“No,” Morticia said, eyes narrowing.
“Please?” I wheedled.
“I'm not helping you bake.”
“But you're a good baker!” I cajoled. “You helped me in college.” We had both gone to the same university, but I was in culinary school while she was in art school. I had dormed in a pod with Morticia and her identical twin, Lilith.
“Just help me! You know the gingerbread cookies take forever.”
Morticia heaved a sigh. “Fine.” She tied up her long hair. “But I get the last of the leftovers.”
“We're ready to start filming whenever you are,” Zane said, motioning to his camera.
I narrated as I mixed up the ingredients for the chocolate chip-mas cookies. I used chocolate chunks, of course, but to give it that Christmas pizzazz, I added in green and red sprinkles and white-chocolate chips.
“The trick to the perfect chocolate chip cookie is to take the pan out of the oven every three minutes and slam it,” I said.
Morticia raised an eyebrow at the camera. “Heh. Slam it. Can you tell she has sex on the brain?”
“I do not!” I sputtered. “Don't sully chocolate chip cookies with that kind of talk.”
“She wants a certain someone to sully her.” Morticia smirked.
“Ignore her, please,” I said, waving a hand in front of Morticia’s face. “Now,” I told the camera, “I'm going to use an ice cream scoop to make even balls.”
“Balls.” Morticia snickered.
Owen’s balls looked nice in those boxer briefs.
I refused to give in to the naughty portion of my brain. I was not getting coal for Christmas.
“Remember to check the oven temperature, because you can never be too careful,” I said, checking the thermometer. “It looks good, so I'm going to slide in three pans, since this is a big oven.”
“Three at a time, Holly? Good gracious,” Morticia remarked as she creamed butter and sugar for the gingerbread cookie bars.
I just need one big… Shut up brain. Think of cookies and frosting.
Owen Frost… yum.
No, not that kind of frosting.
The timer beeped.
“Time to bang!” I chirped then mentally face-palmed.
Morticia was grinning. “Bang… frosting?”
I slammed each cookie tray on the counter once then put them back in the oven.
“Getting a little hot in here,” Morticia said.
While the cookies cooled, I made the gingerbread cookie bars and Morticia made the tarts. I was all tarted out, so I was glad she was doing it. It was dark when we finished. Morticia and I laid out the red-and-white boxes while Zane took B-roll of the piles of finished baked goods.
“How do you make sure they don't break up in transit?” Penny asked as Morticia helped me carefully pack the baked treats into the boxes.
“These are special boxes.”
“I designed them,” Morticia interjected. The boxes had little inserts that fit the various pans I used for making cakes, loaves, cupcakes, or bars. We carefully packed the boxes, nestling the baked goods in tissue paper decorated with candy canes, snowflakes, and the Taste My Muffin logo. As a final touch, I added a letterpressed note describing what each item was. I took a few pictures to post to Instagram.
“These are ready to go!” I said as Morticia helped me load the boxes onto the cart.
We took the boxes downstairs. I had arranged for a courier pickup, and a big truck waited by the front door to the lobby.
“Something in here sure smells good!” the courier said hopefully. I handed him a package of gingerbread cookie bars.
“For the road.”
He smiled. “Merry Christmas!”
After sending off my baking boxes to their new homes, I took a few pictures out on the street then recorded a video for my Instagram story.
“As you can see, it is starting to snow,” I said into the camera, shaking snowflakes out of my hair. “Though some of all this white stuff on me is powdered sugar. I've been baking, as usual!”
I watched my phone upload the video. The comments came in as soon as it was posted.
“I love Christmas!” I sang, twirling around in the snowflakes. I was so absorbed that I didn't realize anyone was watching me until a man grabbed me!
10
Owen
“My second-favorite brother!” Jack announced when I walked into Frost Tower. Yes, my little brother had named a whole tower after himself. The lobby was decorated for Christmas, and Jack stood in the middle of it smirking, surrounded by a frankly excessive Christmas scene.
“Like my sign?” Jack said, pointing to a neon sign displaying the Frost Tower and Grey Dove Bistro logos.
“It's fitting considering that this tower was a failure until Chloe came along and saved both your ass and your tower,” I replied.
“It's a very nice ass,” Chloe said, skipping out of the Grey Dove Bistro, the restaurant she owned. Chloe and Jack had met during last year's filming of Th
e Great Christmas Bake-Off. I wondered if he had asked me to come over so he could rub the whole bake-off situation in my face.
Someone, save me from the bake-off. Not only did I have to eat sweets, but my Thanksgiving leftovers were still being held hostage in my occupied penthouse.
“Recovered from Thanksgiving?” Jack asked with a grin as we waited for the elevator.
“We should ask the Svenssons to make more food next year,” I said.
“Or you could get off your lazy butt and drive to Harrogate bright and early to help cook,” Jack said as the elevator dinged.
“There were like fifty turkeys. I'm amazed that they all disappeared!” Chloe said.
“Well, I can eat a deep-fried turkey all by myself.”
“Yeah, I saw,” Jack said with a smirk. He and Chloe looked at each other and laughed. It was nice to see him happy with Chloe. I definitely was not bugged at all that my younger brother had met the perfect woman and fallen in love before me. Nope. Not at all.
“So we have some news!” Jack said when we were in his penthouse.
“You and Chloe?”
Chloe nodded excitedly.
“Sit down. You might want a drink.”
Jack poured me two fingers of the whisky that I'd been craving all day to wash away the taste of the desserts. Chloe was bouncing up and down on the couch with excitement.
“You are going to be a great-uncle!” Jack exclaimed.
“Ta-da!” Chloe said.
“What, you guys are pregnant?” I said in shock. “Wait, that's not right. That would make me an uncle, not a great-uncle.”
“He's so confused!” Chloe laughed.
“I'm only a great-uncle if my nephew has a child,” I said, frowning. “Who has a secret child? Wait, it better not be Jonathan!”
“Actually, it's Milo,” Jack said.
He whistled, and his huge silver-and-grey husky padded into the room, tongue lolling. He came right to me, butting his shaggy head against my pants. I was immediately covered in fur.
