All’s Fair In Love and Cupcakes

by Betsy St. Amant

  Long as she stayed at the bathroom door.

  They stared at each other, and Lucas wondered if Kat felt the same pressure he did, that same unspoken obligation that whoever spoke first would carry.

  Since he was the one who pressed her up against the wall, it should probably be him.

  “So.” He kept his hand on the doorknob. “That was . . .” Well, maybe it wasn’t as easy as it looked.

  “Yeah.” Her grin turned halfway impish, and he tightened his grip on the knob. Heaven help him . . .

  “We should probably . . .” He sighed, looked at the ceiling, then at her. Now she was biting her lower lip, eyes wide, and his palm was so sweaty, it was sliding off the knob. “I need to, you know . . .” Leave. Call Darren. Take a cold shower. Pray. All of the above, at least twice each.

  “Come here?”

  It was a question, not a command. But he couldn’t obey it, not even though her eyes were as big as a pleading puppy’s. Even though his arms actually ached to hold her again. He shook his head, saying no from a source greater than himself. “Not a good idea, Kat.”

  “That’s easily fixed, then. I’ll come there.” She crept over to him, like one might approach a stray dog or a deer in the woods, and stood directly in front of him before raising up on her tip toes, lips inches from his. She smiled.

  “Hi.”

  Man, she was good.

  He wrapped her in another kiss, loving that dress, loving the feel of her in his arms, loving how suddenly, finally, nothing made sense except her. This was how it should be, was meant to be. They’d figure out the rest. What was the rest of it again, anyway? Because now it was just them. Him and Kat.

  Together.

  There was no rest anymore.

  His phone chimed from his pocket, and he took the moment to pull apart, catch his breath. Regroup. Return to the doorknob.

  “Hold that thought.” He grinned and pulled out his cell, figuring Darren and God were at it again with their uncanny timing. He braced himself for a sobering Scripture, which he desperately needed, but the black text peering at him from the screen did a lot more than sober. It wasn’t from Darren.

  It was from his realtor.

  He’d gotten the land.

  For once, Kat didn’t mind the seemingly endless delays that came with life in a television studio. Absently watching the cameramen yell at each other about various broken forms of technology while Sam got his face powdered just gave her more opportunity to prop her elbow on her baking station and daydream about Lucas and that kiss—okay, kisses—one more time.

  Because the past five hundred times hadn’t been nearly enough.

  A tingle worked its way through her stomach at the memories, and she couldn’t contain a smile. She could even halfway still feel Lucas’s strong arms around her waist, feel the pressure of his mouth against hers.

  Sigh.

  She still wasn’t entirely sure how they’d gone from their depressing, all-hope-is-lost conversation on the beach to making out in the doorway of her room, but somehow, they’d gotten there, and she for one was not complaining.

  Nothing had changed about their situation.

  But now, she had the hope that it could.

  Although the way Lucas left so quickly after getting that text left her a little unsettled. Kat frowned, threading her fingers through the tie of her Not Your Mama’s Cupcakes apron. He’d told her it was just business from back home, and she believed him, but what business, exactly? And why did it have to cut short such an amazing time together?

  Well, probably better that it had. She still couldn’t believe the gumption she’d possessed, the flirty attitude she’d shown—so unlike her. But Lucas brought that side of her to life, and once it had taken a full breath, she couldn’t bear to shove the poor creature back into the ground.

  Maybe Rachel had been right about the dress.

  “You nervous?”

  Kat jumped, knocking her elbow against her workstation with a painful thump. She straightened and forced a smile at Piper, unnerved by the girl’s choice of the word nervous, the exact same word Thad had used yesterday in the alley. Coincidence?

  How could it be anything else?

  She was in too good of a mood to assume the negative or let Piper psych her out even unintentionally. “Good luck today.”

  Piper’s eyebrows shot toward her hairline. “Seriously?”

  “Sure, why not. We’ve both made it this far. We’ve proven we’re here for a reason.” Kat shrugged, unsure whether to laugh or cry at the shocked expression on Piper’s face. Was the girl that desperate for assurance? Or was it all just a catty game to her? Either way . . . “You’re a good chef, Piper. Everything you’ve made has gotten great scores. And the decorations on those key lime cupcakes you made last round were adorable.”

  Successfully unarmed, Piper mumbled something under her breath and wandered back to her workstation.

  Kat shook her head. Good grief. If she’d known it could be that easy to get rid of her, she’d have tried doling out compliments three days ago.

  Her gaze darted to the judges’ table and then back to her mixing bowl. At least Thad hadn’t tried anything since yesterday, and he had been keeping to himself at the panel. So far, she’d managed to avoid eye contact, but was still debating on whether or not doing so made everything even weirder. Should she be her normal self since she hadn’t done anything wrong? Or cower away like she was guilty? There had to be an in-between somewhere.

  If they could just get on with the taping, it wouldn’t matter. She’d be too busy to worry about Thad, Piper, or even Lucas, for that matter.

  Lucas.

  She started to slip back into her daydream when the very star of it appeared at her side.

  “Hey, I’m back.” Lucas slid his cell into the back pocket of his jeans, which were dark denim and a slimmer fit than he usually wore, but who was noticing? “Sorry, had to take that call. Figured I might as well while we are still on a time-out.” He smiled at her, but a slight strain remained evident around the corners of his eyes.

  Kat smiled back, wishing she could erase the lingering frown lines. Maybe he was nervous about the final segment too? A lot was riding on the results. Maybe more so for them both after last night.

  But no, she refused to think of it that way. She much preferred thinking of it as finally having real options—one way or another.

  “Who was it?”

  He hesitated, and Kat rolled in her lower lip, plowing ahead before he could answer. Or rather, continue to not answer. “Is everything okay?”

  He nodded, but didn’t elaborate. He just pulled out his phone again and sent another text before putting it back in his pocket.

  Kat tried to shake off the hurt as she turned, brushing wisps of flour off her workstation as if she didn’t have a single thing on her mind. What was the deal? Why wouldn’t he tell her who was on the phone? They didn’t keep secrets from each other.

  She paused midswipe and frowned. Although, that misunderstanding between him and her sister had sort of been like a secret, or at least something he’d never told her about. And then there were his thoughts about sabotaging her cupcakes because of being ready to get home.

  But he’d confessed all that, so none of it was a secret anymore. Right?

  She pressed her fingers against her temples. This step—no, make that this crazy, terrifying leap—from best friends to significantly more was tricky, to say the least.

  And they hadn’t actually even labeled anything yet.

  But those kisses . . . how could it not mean that something had changed? It had for her. Had to have for him too. Surely Lucas was at least considering options, possibilities now. They couldn’t just share something like that, have that kind of connection at their fingertips and just throw it away.

  Because there would be no going back.

  The sobering realization sent a shiver racing down Kat’s back, erupting into chills along her forearms and shins. She shoved her hands
into her apron pockets, wishing for a blanket. A coat. Something to wrap up in and to warm her frigid train of thought.

  It was true, though. From here on, regardless of what happened with the contest, there was no going back. They had to go forward from this proverbial line in the sand, and if she knew Lucas, it would be all or nothing.

  The all would be difficult to navigate, at best.

  But the nothing . . .

  She couldn’t even begin to grasp the darkness that accompanied that thought.

  Lucas leaned over the workstation, his broad shoulder brushing hers, and she fought the urge to lean into his warmth. “What did Piper say?”

  Ha. “I think she was going to try to get in my head, but I complimented her, and she left. Quietly, even.”

  “Really. Wow. I’m impressed.” His smile, slow and wide, calmed the barrage of fears bombarding her heart, and she allowed herself to relax. She needed to concentrate on the round, not be constantly analyzing the details of last night or imagining—or fearing—the future.

  First things first. And first, she had a contest to get through.

  The urge to pray overwhelmed her. Lord, you know how badly I want to win. But you know how much Lucas means to me. If you could just somehow find a way to fix this . . . She knew nothing was impossible for God to figure out, but this whole situation she and Lucas found themselves in seemed like it had to rank pretty close. Your will, God.

  But I really do want to win.

  “All right, bakers, we’re finally ready.” Sam clapped his hands for attention, even as one of the red-shirt-clad assistants dabbed his forehead with a makeup sponge one last time. He waved her away, and she stuck her tongue out before rushing off the set.

  “Sorry for the delay, teams. There’s a lot going on today.” He grinned from Piper and Amanda to Kat and Lucas, head turning back and forth as if viewing a Ping-Pong tournament. “We have some surprises in store for this final round.”

  Oh, joy. Kat steeled herself, knowing from experience this past week that a surprise and that particular grin on Sam’s face could be good, bad, or incredibly ugly.

  Maybe a little bit of all three.

  “The final round challenge for today has nothing to do with decorations—those will be decided according to the theme of each team, as you’ll discover momentarily.” Sam offered a cat-ate-the-canary grin. “For this round, bakers, your challenge is to incorporate a secret ingredient into one of your cupcakes. The more unusual or outright weird the ingredient, the more points you’ll score with the judges.”

  Uh-oh. A weird secret ingredient? She’d used unusual elements in her cupcakes before but nothing she would describe as weird—even if Aunt Maggie did. What could she throw together that would qualify but not be too big a risk? Her mind raced with the possibilities. Rosemary? Lavender vanilla? Cayenne pepper?

  “Finally, as you all know, we’ve chosen a love theme this episode to celebrate our fifth anniversary here at Cupcake Combat.” Sam gestured to the heart-shaped banner that had been suspended from the ceiling near the judges’ table for this final segment. “We thought we’d share the love by asking each of our remaining teams to bake cupcakes for a charity event. Regardless of which team wins, each charity will receive the five hundred cupcakes baked here this afternoon to help promote their cause.”

  Five hundred cupcakes? Kat grasped the edge of her workstation. On a typical episode, the final challenge consisted of baking one hundred cupcakes. That was plenty. But five hundred? How were they supposed to—

  Sam continued. “Of course we realize that goal isn’t possible all by yourselves.”

  Well, duh.

  “So, we brought in some extra special hometown helpers for you both.” He stepped to the side and gestured to the backstage doors. “Helpers, if you please!”

  Kat sucked in a surprised gasp as Lucas’s entire football team paraded past the judges’ table, wearing their team jerseys with jeans and school-logo ball caps turned backward on their heads, football helmets tucked under their arms. What in the world—

  Lucas let out a little yelp of joy as the guys rushed to their workstation, crowding around the counter, slapping their coach a high five.

  “We rode a plane, Coach!”

  “Yeah, and Michael got locked in the bathroom!”

  “They gave us free peanuts, but Ben tried to pay for his.”

  “Some guy in a suit threw up in seat 5A! It was awesome.”

  The guys’ voices mingled together as one as they all jockeyed to outdo each other with news.

  “One at a time, gang.” Lucas laughed as the din only rose.

  Then Tyler barreled right through the crowd and bear-hugged Lucas, sending him staggering backward. “So glad to be here, Coach.” The boy held on tight, then stepped back, sheepish, as if forgetting where he was. “Hi, Ms. Varland.” He grinned at Kat, and she returned the awkward fist bump he offered.

  Several of the guys followed suit, as though unsure if hugging your coach’s female friend was okay on TV, while a few of the others, red-cheeked, ducked their heads, studied their shoes, and mumbled brief hellos.

  This was the help and the will she had prayed for? God, is this part of your plan or just a little bonus? She couldn’t entirely decide if it was good or bad. “I’m so surprised, guys. This is amazing.” And it was. Shocking too—especially for Lucas, who needed this boost. So maybe it was amazing in a good way. Maybe now he would relax, and see that everything had been just fine in his absence. Maybe he’d see that, sometimes, it was a good thing to not be in control.

  She nibbled on her bottom lip. She could stand to learn that same lesson.

  After she won.

  “We have with us today a championship winning team of high school football players from Bayou Bend, Louisiana. They’re eager to help Coach Lucas Brannen and their favorite cupcake baker, Kat Varland.” Sam introduced the bevy of players briefly and wished them good luck.

  Lucas caught her eye over the top of Tyler’s head as Sam finished his welcome, his chocolate-brown eyes bright, face beaming. He tapped the brim of Tyler’s ball cap good-naturedly, knocking it off center. He mouthed I can’t believe this to her, all smiles.

  She couldn’t either. She smiled back. But why the pit in her stomach? Not because the boys weren’t capable of following instructions and helping them bake the five hundred cupcakes—though there was that, maybe, a little. She’d have to be on her toes with them, make sure they stayed on task.

  No, it was beyond that.

  It was because they’d lit Lucas up in a way she couldn’t.

  Her hopes that those kisses would change anything—everything—extinguished a bit more. How could he leave behind his life, or even consider it, after having it all flaunted fresh in front of him?

  She couldn’t compete. Not with her sister. And not with an entire team of guys who looked up to Lucas, who offered hero worship and dependency and fed on his strengths. How selfish would she be, asking him to come to New York with her when these guys needed him more than she did?

  She’d proven she could stand on her own. She just didn’t want to. But Tyler, and this team . . . this was Lucas’s element.

  He’d shrivel up and blow away in New York City.

  “And now, to assist with our other team, we have a group of ballerinas from the Icing Queens’ hometown.” Sam applauded as a herd of pink-tutu-clad girls danced en pointe from the back door to Piper’s workstation, hair rounded up in buns, glitter showering off their leotards. “Let’s welcome these dancers from the Pink Slipper Academy, where Amanda teaches part-time and Piper volunteers.”

  Kat struggled to join the applause, struggled to keep the tears that burned her eyes from slipping down her cheeks. No opportunity for makeup reapplication. It was showtime. She had to figure out this secret ingredient, whip up five hundred to-die-for cupcakes, and do it all with the assistance of a dozen teen boys.

  She didn’t have a choice. She had to do this, for herself. For her famil
y. For Lucas. He didn’t sign her up to watch her fail.

  And she hadn’t put both of them through all of the torture of this past week for nothing. She might not be a sports buff, but she’d heard enough of Lucas’s pep talks to his team to know one thing: she had to go down swinging, regardless of the outcome of the show—or it wasn’t even worth playing.

  twenty-four

  Only in LA could jump-ups and bear crawls turn into measuring and sifting.

  Lucas wished he could stop and just soak in the moment, maybe snap a few pictures to tease his guys with later—Coach Kent would get a kick out of seeing Tyler with flour smeared across his team T-shirt, and Ben wearing both an apron and a helmet—but there was no time. All hands on deck were occupied, stirring, mixing, cutting.

  Three of his players, including Tyler, had created an assembly line. After Kat measured out the ingredients precisely—two of which he swore had been cinnamon mixed with chili powder—they dumped them in the bowls, operated the mixer, and filled muffin tins with paper liners. Then, after Kat tasted and approved the batter, three other guys, including Ben, poured the cupcakes into the liners and manned depositing the cupcakes into the oven and taking them out again.

  Lucas was in charge of decorations, alongside a few other boys and Kat, who flitted back and forth, checking all the progress like an adorable, cake-battered drill sergeant. Sugar crunched on the floor under her shoes as she paced, barked, and praised. He was glad she remembered to dole out a few compliments in between the instructions and occasional panicked correction.

  He was proud of her. Of all of them, really. This was teamwork.

  And such a great surprise. Seeing those guys parade in like that . . . Lucas couldn’t believe they’d shocked him and Kat so completely. The studio had provided airfare for the one-night stay for all the team members and threw in an allowance for several of the parents to tag along as chaperones on the plane and outside of the studio. Wise, since the entire team were minors. The parents got to sightsee while the kids were taping the show. Win-win.

  He’d never done anything so cool in his high school days.