All’s Fair In Love and Cupcakes

by Betsy St. Amant

  Yuck.

  She began tossing in socks instead as her mother continued.

  “I’m just saying that Lucas isn’t always the best judge of character.”

  Right. Because he wanted to be her friend more than Stella’s? Because Lucas might be the one male in the entire county within a ten-year-age radius of her pageant queen sister who hadn’t asked her out at some point in her life?

  “He’s a great judge of character.” He liked her cupcakes—and not just because he was her friend. He liked them enough to put her on national TV.

  But what if he was the baking equivalent of tone-deaf? Maybe her off-the-wall recipes really didn’t belong in Sweetie Pies or anywhere else in the world. Maybe she was better off with a vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry lifestyle.

  Maybe her mom was right.

  “I’m just saying that a random opportunity and Lucas’s approval don’t mean the world.”

  Underwear went in next. “But yours does?” Oops. She hadn’t completely meant for that to be out loud.

  She could almost hear her mother’s teeth grind, could almost picture the automatic responses rolling through her polished brain. Stella never argues like this. Stella never goes against my wishes. Stella never makes rash decisions that cause a preacher’s wife to look questionable.

  Well, Kat usually didn’t either. But this decision had all but been made for her, and sometimes, despite Claire Varland’s opinion, opportunities could be a good thing.

  Of course, she could also fall on her cupcake-padded rear end.

  Doubt made her unpack her socks.

  Her mom’s accent thickened into a full-out drawl, which meant she was past frustrated and borderline mad. “I’m just saying you should think carefully about the consequences.”

  She had.

  Which was why the socks were going back in.

  “Mom, I’m not moving to LA or anything crazy.” Yet. Though New York was certainly on the table—a detail she’d share with her mother only if it ever came to pass. She tried to keep her tone casual. “I’m just going to participate in a competition that happens to be aired on TV.”

  A long silence followed. And just when Kat thought she’d finally won . . .

  “Hollywood is no place for someone like you.”

  That burned. “But maybe for someone like Stella?” Hardly. As pure as Stella might be now, Hollywood would eat her up and spit her out like yesterday’s bacon. But Stella had never been wrong when they were children, and her mother would be more likely to misplace her favorite string of pearls than to break tradition now.

  Some battles weren’t worth fighting.

  “You know what? Don’t even answer that. This is my choice, Mom.” She was an adult, whether or not anyone treated her like it.

  “Of course it’s your choice.” Her mother’s voice turned to sugar, then crystallized. “Just be sure to make the right one.”

  In other words, her mom’s choice. “I’ve got to pack. Tell Daddy I’ll call him before I leave.” Kat mumbled what could pass for a good-bye and tossed her cell on her pillow. Maybe her father could talk her mother off the ledge. Or maybe not. He might wear the starched and pressed suit pants in the family, but he avoided confrontation like the plagues of Egypt he had preached on when Kat was ten. She still remembered the way Andrew Hoffman had set a frog loose during the climax of the sermon, how the boys had giggled and the girls had squealed and the blue-haired ladies had yanked up their feet.

  How her father had kept on preaching as if absolutely nothing was happening.

  He wasn’t going to be much help, but he’d at least pray for her while she was gone. Oh, her mother would pray too, but Kat hated to peek at the ulterior motives behind those prayers. Dear Lord, please let Kat fail miserably so she sees her place is right here in Bayou Bend forever. Dear Lord, please allow all of Kat’s cupcakes to burn the mouths of the judges so she isn’t lured away into the sin of Hollywood.

  Did she even stand a chance?

  She lobbed a pair of socks at the bedroom door just as her friend Rachel knocked on the frame.

  She ducked just in time to avoid the flying socks, which landed in the hallway. “You really should lock your front door.” Rachel straightened, her silky brown bob swinging along her jaw in that easy way Kat had always envied.

  “Why? This is Bayou Bend.” And wasn’t that the entire problem? Kat rearranged the leftover socks in the corners of her suitcase. “Mi casa, su casa, and such.” She’d rather that casa be in New York. Or Dallas. Or Chicago. Or anywhere that offered a taste of real life sprinkled with freedom.

  “Good thing.” Her friend handed over a fountain drink from the gas station and slurped from her own extra-large one. “Cherry coke.”

  She accepted it with a thank-you. “Where are the munchkins?”

  “School and Mother’s Day Out. Mama’s free.” Rachel grinned and toasted Kat with her drink. “Need help packing?”

  At least Rachel supported her decision to go—and Lucas. So who cared what her mother thought? Maybe her mom had it backward. Maybe it was her opinion that didn’t matter at all.

  Then why the rock of dread permanently lodged in Kat’s stomach?

  Rachel shot a pointed look at her mostly empty suitcase and then the socks in the hallway. “I’m thinking the answer to my question is a hearty yes.”

  Kat shrugged. “Good luck getting any further. I have nothing to wear to LA.”

  “You have that apron for the show, though, right? What are you going to wear with it?” Rachel set her drink down on the dresser, then began pawing through the contents of Kat’s closets. “Why so many T-shirts?”

  “Asked the stay-at-home mom? Really?” Kat grinned. “I bake all day. I’m the walking flour lady. I don’t have much reason to buy dress clothes.”

  Rachel considered a pair of gray slacks, then kept rummaging. “Some of the girls on that show wear ball gowns, you know. Or overalls.”

  “And some people jump off bridges. Your point?”

  Rachel snorted. “Want to borrow my black dress?”

  “The one you wear on anniversaries? No thanks. I’ve had a few too many cupcakes for that one.” Kat patted her hips.

  “You’re only a size bigger than me. It’ll be cute.”

  “Maybe.” Kat hesitated, trying to picture herself in that little black dress, strolling LA after taping, sitting across from Lucas at a candlelit table. Her stomach fluttered, and this time the feeling wasn’t born of doubt or insecurity or worry.

  It was born of something much, much worse.

  Rachel shut the closet door with a click. “I’ve solved your clothing dilemma.”

  “Stay home?” It could solve a lot, actually. She could get her mother off her back. Avoid the glaring opportunity to fail publicly. Miss out on embarrassing herself in front of Lucas. They’d never been out of town together before, not like this. Of course they would have separate rooms, but they would know only each other there. Except for when they slept, every airplane ride, every meal, every minute in and out of the studio would be spent together.

  Two years ago, that notion would never have been enough of a point to cross her mind. Or if it had crossed her mind, it would be only in regard to the happy realization that Lucas could maneuver extra peanuts from the flight attendant for her and help carry her shopping bags around LA.

  Now her palms were as sweaty as a preteen’s, and she was more concerned about what Lucas would think of her in Rachel’s dress than what she would wear on national television.

  “No, silly.” Rachel grabbed her drink, and tossed Kat her purse hanging on the bedroom doorknob. “Get your keys. We’re going shopping.”

  Kat hooked her purse on her arm and cast one last glance at her suitcase. “You sure about this?”

  “It’s time to branch out, girl.” Rachel jangled her keys. “You deserve this.”

  “The show or the new clothes?” Or Lucas. Now, where did that thought come from? She pressed her fingers agai
nst her forehead.

  “Both.” Rachel grinned. “And you know what? I retract my offer of loaning you my dress. It’s time you found your own perfect fit.”

  Like that could be found in the depths of a clearance rack. Kat followed Rachel outside, careful to lock her front door behind her. Maybe it was time for some changes.

  Too bad Lucas didn’t think so too.

  Lucas drummed his fingers on the display case at Sweetie Pies, yanking his hand back as Kat repolished his finger smudges on the glass with a rag. They left in two days. Two days, and he’d be on an airplane with Kat, headed into what could possibly be the best or worst trip of their friendship.

  Could end their friendship.

  Or could turn it into something even better.

  Not that there was any pressure.

  He watched as she continued cleaning, his mind racing through his checklist of all he’d accomplished and still had to accomplish before leaving work and his team for a week. How exactly had he gotten roped into this, again?

  Oh yeah. His Big Gesture . . . and Kat’s blue eyes.

  He cleared his throat. “You got our plane tickets?”

  She kept wiping down the counters, and he wondered briefly why Amy hadn’t done that before she left for the day. “I’ve got the tickets.”

  “And all the show information?”

  “And the show information.”

  “Did you buy the trip insurance?”

  “No.”

  He frowned. “Why not?” Everyone always bought trip insurance. He did, anyway. Kat didn’t travel much, though, except for those few mission trips she took in high school. This might be a bigger deal to her than he’d originally realized.

  Now there was really no pressure.

  “Because one, the show is paying for the flight, and because two, if we miss this trip for some reason, there is no other trip. It’s not like I go to LA to be on TV every year.” Kat snorted as she tossed the rag aside and reached in the case to pull out the tray of leftover strawberry cupcakes. “It’s now or never.”

  Was it? He considered that a minute, hating the innuendo she probably didn’t even realize she offered. Maybe it was now or never for the show. But what about for them?

  No. Enough of that. He’d been coaching himself the past few days on bracing against his personal feelings for Kat. That wasn’t what this trip was about, and if he didn’t get a handle on it soon, he’d wind up following her around LA with googly-eyes and a trail of drool that would make Hansel and Gretel feel incompetent.

  He picked a safer question. “Have you packed?”

  The tray of cupcakes clattered against the top of the counter, and Kat shot him a look that could have deep-fried a turkey. “Don’t ask.”

  So much for safe. He tried again. “Where’s Aunt Maggie today?”

  “Sick.” Kat looked over her shoulder, as if the older woman could somehow still materialize in her office. “Which makes me feel bad for leaving.”

  “She’ll rally before two more days, I bet. Doesn’t she usually?” He plucked a strawberry cupcake from the tray. “And she has Amy to help while you’re gone.”

  Kat quirked her eyebrow.

  Yeah, true. That didn’t really console. He licked the top of the icing. “She’ll be fine. So will Sweetie Pies. This is about you.” For once. He didn’t say that part, though, because he figured Kat didn’t need a lot of extra reminders about the obvious.

  She pulled out the tray of chocolates, eyeing him in her peripheral. “Don’t forget to take the wrapper off this time.”

  Man, he really needed to figure out how to do that eyebrow trick at her. “That was one time.”

  “You ate paper, and you expect me to just let it go?”

  He opened his mouth to argue, but the door chimed behind him. He turned around, straightening from the counter as Aunt Maggie shuffled in, a blue sweater pulled tight around her chest.

  “Aunt Maggie! You should be in bed!” Kat rushed around the counter and went to her side, as if she expected the woman to fall down on the floor. She didn’t look that frail to Lucas, though he didn’t see her as regularly as Kat did. Still, what was with the overreaction?

  Unless Kat was trying to find a reason to stay in town after all.

  He narrowed his eyes.

  “I left my Bible here, and I decided I might as well grab the latest statements to work on the bills while I’m laid up for a few days.” She coughed into her elbow, and Kat steered her toward one of the pulled-out chairs. “Katherine, really. I can walk.”

  “I shouldn’t go.” She nibbled on her lower lip, the debate evident in her eyes as she hovered over her aunt. “You need me here.”

  “No, you should go, dear. Besides, I have Amy.”

  A pulsing silence hung in the room. Lucas could have sworn he heard crickets.

  “Anyway, I’m fine.” Maggie coughed again, then rubbed the base of her throat with her hand. “You’ll be back in a week, and then everything will be just like usual.”

  Kat’s expression dropped toward the floor, a flash of pain flickering in her eyes before she pasted on a smile that, to anyone else, would have seemed perfectly ordinary. But she was hurt.

  And rightly so. Even her aunt didn’t think she had a chance of winning—the same aunt who ate Kat’s cupcakes on a regular basis. If Kat won—when she won—nothing would be the same. That was the whole point. She wouldn’t have to keep working at Sweetie Pies. She could use whatever prize money she was awarded to open her own shop or start an online business. She’d be free. How could Maggie assume she didn’t even stand a chance?

  Lucas suddenly felt torn between wanting to get the woman a cough drop and pull her chair out from under her.

  The worst part was, he didn’t think it was malicious or intentional. In fact, it seemed as if Maggie, just like Kat’s mom, was completely oblivious to the way she came across—as if what she said was so truthful and obvious that there was zero shame or consequence in saying it. Kat’s father, Pastor Tom, might have been a father figure to Lucas as a teenager, but they weren’t so close that Lucas couldn’t decipher the truth. Maybe Pastor Tom wasn’t as bad vocally as the others in Kat’s family, but his passivity might be an even cheaper shot.

  Lucas had always known Kat carried insecurity issues over her career and her dreams, but this encounter with Maggie opened his eyes to exactly how bad it had gotten—and why. No wonder she was so torn about going and trying to talk herself out of it every other hour. How could she believe in herself when everyone who should love her the most seemed determined to convince her otherwise?

  Well, he believed in her. He might not be a famous bakery owner or cupcake expert, but he was a man with a healthy appetite who knew a good thing when it was put on a plate in front of him. And Kat’s ability went beyond good. She deserved the chance to prove them all wrong, and he was grateful now that he’d get the chance to stand by her side while she did it.

  “Did you hear me?” Maggie rose unsteadily from her chair. “Will you check my desk for that Bible?”

  “Right. Of course.” Kat’s voice held a hint of monotone that he was sure Maggie didn’t catch. Like a champ, she grabbed her aunt’s Bible and a binder of what he assumed held financial information and tucked them both into the older woman’s purse. “Call me if you need anything.”

  “I’ll make some soup, take it easy, and be back soon. Don’t you worry.” Maggie patted Kat’s cheek. “Have fun on your trip. You deserve it.”

  That was nice, but a little late now. The damage had long been done. Kat held her wobbly smile until Maggie left, then headed back around the counter. Lucas debated between bringing it up and letting it go. What did she need most?

  From the way she banged trays around as she finished her closing duties, he decided to let it go. Help her focus on the positive, just like he persuaded his guys after a bad play. “Just think, Kat. You’ll get a whole week of absolutely nothing vanilla, chocolate, or strawberry.” A whole week of no ne
gativity, away from those who were supposed to be helping her fly.

  That earned a smile, though still tainted with disappointment. “There might be some chocolate. As in, German. Or dark.”

  “That works.”

  She wiped the corner of her eye, and he changed his mind. He couldn’t let it go. He reached across the counter and brushed his fingers against her arm. “You know you’re going to win, right? And give your aunt some stiff competition when you get back?”

  Her smile turned sincere, and the knot in his stomach eased a bit. There. He’d done it. Mission accomplished.

  “Maybe.” She frowned a little. “Though I don’t see how Sweetie Pies will be competition with Bloom.”

  “Bloom? You’ve already named your shop?”

  She closed up the bakery boxes of leftover cupcakes. “What do you mean? Bloom is in New York City. The grand prize.”

  Panic seeped in a slow bleed, his vision blurring around the edges as his thoughts raced to catch up. “I thought the grand prize was cash. To start your own place.” No. No. How could he have missed that? Winners got money. It was the rule of television. Or any contest, really. She had to be mistaken. Hadn’t they seen enough episodes together for him to have caught this significant detail?

  “It has been in episodes past. But you didn’t read the fine print, apparently.” She stacked the boxes on top of each other. “It said for this show, the grand prize is an internship at Bloom. That’s better than cash, trust me. After someone works there a year, they can do anything they want. Their résumé is golden in the baking industry.”

  A year.

  The knot returned and doubled into a noose. New York City. That might be even farther away from Louisiana than LA.

  And he’d just all but sent Kat and his heart there on a jet plane.

  six

  Puffy white clouds interrupted the brilliant blue sky—a sky the same color as Kat’s eyes. Lucas slapped Tyler a high five as the boy ran past, breathless, from the football field. Last practice before LA, before his assistant coaches took over.

  He drew a breath tight with stress. It was only for a week. No biggie. He could use the vacation, though that much time alone with Kat right now wouldn’t be relaxing. Especially not if she actually won.