Cupcakes and Christmas: A Bake Off inspired MM Christmas Romance

by R. J. Scott

  I pressed my hands to my temples where a headache was forming and closed my eyes. I’d gone from being flustered about meeting my celebrity crush to right back down in Marc-land where only despair seemed to grow. My cell buzzed, and I answered it as soon as I saw my twin’s name.

  “I can feel you freaking out from here! Stop it!” He was in big-brother-ordering-me-about mode and I bristled.

  “Ads—”

  “You’re brilliant. You’ll win. Marc is an asshole. Other people get divorced. You’re not a failure. Everyone wants a piece of you. Did I get it all?”

  I had to laugh. My brother with that weird-ass twin-connection thing we had going on, had nailed most of what was stressing me. Good job he couldn’t see inside my head at the X-rated visions I had of Justin.

  “Shouldn’t you be in class?” He was an elementary school teacher and a damn good one. Although I was biased.

  “I am, but Liam and Tom, the terrible twosome, told me I was sad, which incidentally I was because of you moping and me feeling it. They decided to put on an impromptu stunt show they’d learned over the weekend.”

  “That’s cute.”

  “Cute? They’re six, and they shouldn’t be trying to throw each other over tables.”

  “Surely you can make them nap now,” I said, tongue in cheek.

  “They’re six years, not months, whatever. I’m in the bathroom, hiding on my break, so I called your stressy ass.”

  “I’m zen,” I lied.

  “Yeah right.”

  “I swear I’m better now that you called.” I could admit that to him, knowing it would put his mind to rest.

  “Did you sign the papers yet?”

  “I have them back at the Fairmont.” I patted my jacket pocket where the bulky envelope sat, not sure why I was carrying them around with me, or why I’d lied to my twin and best friend.

  “Whatever. Just get it done soon so you can start again. Speaking of which, did you see the sexy Justin yet?”

  I groaned inwardly. I knew I shouldn’t have mentioned my crush to the one person who wouldn’t forget.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t feel it when I saw him too,” I snapped.

  “Nah, I’ve learned to block when you get hot and heavy with a guy.”

  “Fuck you,” I said, without heat.

  “Fuck you too.” He laughed. “Do Justin, get it all out of your system, make your world happier. Love you, asshole.” He hung up before I could say it back.

  I pulled out the envelope with my name and address neatly typed on it, with the logo of the lawyer’s office in the corner. All I had to do was sign, and I would be done.

  So what was stopping me?

  Chapter Three

  Some of them need a good forking

  Justin

  When I’d finished my ticking the boxes chat with show management, I headed back out to the garden room and found Brody on a bench, clutching an envelope, his head tilted back, eyes closed, and his breathing even. He was asleep. I didn’t want to wake him, but they’d asked me to send him in next. He looked so peaceful and still as effortlessly sexy as he’d looked on the screen, and right now I was taking the time to stare. Then maybe lean down and press a kiss to his forehead. He might wake up and tilt his chin and his lips would part and I could kiss him properly.

  “Brody?” I called from around six feet, but he muttered something and didn’t open his eyes. I stepped closer, touching his shoulder, expecting him to jump out of his skin, but he didn’t. Instead, he slowly opened his eyes and smiled up at me sleepily. Whatever dream I’d woken him from had to have been a good one because if I woke up next to him after we’d made love, then this was the expression I imagined.

  Woooah, rein it in.

  “Hey,” he said, his tone soft then appearing to realize where he was, he scrambled to stand and shoved the envelope into his coat that was next to him. “Secret cupcake recipe?” I deadpanned.

  “I wish,” he mumbled and put the coat over his arm.

  “It’s your turn.” I stepped back as I said that, even though my palms had itched with the need to help Brody stand and then for him to accidentally fall into my waiting arms. I’d lusted after him for so long that having him here in the flesh was like a dream.

  He stood up without my help and stretched tall again, only this time it exposed skin above his waistband, showing a peek of the smoothest of bellies. He was lithe but muscled apart from that softness. His long dark bangs touching his eyebrow on one side, something that he was clearly used to as he had this habit of flicking them back with his hand. What I wouldn’t give for him to lay on the floor so I could rest my head on his stomach, and we could talk and then maybe kiss and—

  “Earth to Justin, you okay?”

  “Yeah, sorry, it was… ”

  “Shit, what did they ask you to do?” Now he was nervous and that was all my fault.

  I blinked back to normal. “No, nothing, just the normal stuff. Sorry, long drive. Go. They’re waiting for you.”

  He picked up a battered leather satchel then headed for the door I’d just emerged from. I bet that bag told a million stories. Maybe it was handed down from his granddad or even further back in his huge family network.

  Watching his season, I’d envied Brody and his ease with life, his big family, his back story, and long memories of distant relatives. I was jealous he was in college with his boyfriend. Hell, I even melted when I saw the freaking stray cat that wound itself around his neck in the home interviews. When he’d won, his family had surrounded him with love and affection and squabbled on camera about who was the best sibling before his boyfriend had gone down on one knee and proposed. Lucky for me, in season one there were no family or partners featured in the finale because I’d look pretty sad with just some guy off the street that I would have had to pay to stand at my side.

  Stop the freaking pity party—you’re rich, you have an audience, you’re set for life.

  The solid front doors flew open, letting in a gust of snow and wind, and I faced the newcomers with my best smile. I recognized Ivan Sanders, winner of season five, and Kristen Maven winner of season three. They both had Instagram, and Kristen was big on Pinterest, so we reposted some of each other’s content. I’d never met them, but their social profiles were a match to mine in a lot of respects. More crossover led to more likes which led to more endorsements, and all of that can be done online, but it’s always good to put a face to a name.

  “Hi! It’s Justin from season one, right?” Ivan asked loudly, and his voice was swallowed in the big space. I crossed to greet them, shaking hands with Ivan and getting a sideways bro hug from the big guy, and then a hug and a kiss on the cheek from Kristen.

  “It’s so good to meet you finally,” Kristen announced, and I couldn’t help wincing.

  “Sorry I couldn’t make the reunions.”

  “You didn’t miss much,” she confided. “Apart from me and Ivan y’know hooking up.” I didn’t know they had, but she forged ahead. “It’s so different to the soundstage back in L.A.,” Kristen exclaimed and took Ivan’s hand and dragged him over to stand under the chandelier. “Look at that!”

  I noticed they didn’t let go of each other. It was obvious they were a couple when Ivan scooped her up into a bear hug and swooped her around in a circle.

  Brody came out of the room, looking a little shell-shocked. Ivan saw Brody and went over to him and hugged Brody so hard that I thought he might break him.

  The shocked expression Brody walked out with soon gave way to a grin as Ivan clapped him on the back.

  “Brodes!” Kristen called, and they met in the middle with big hugs and kissed each other’s cheeks. Then they went quiet and chatted in a low tone. Kristen cradled his face and their expressions abruptly got serious. I wonder what they were talking about. Was it something to do with the show? Was it a continuing conversation from a reunion? Were they close friends? She’d called him Brodes, which I’d never heard used before, so I assume they we
re close enough for her to give him a pet name.

  If I had to give him a pet name it would be Sexy McSexy or something that I could whisper in his ear as he writhed under me in bed.

  He crossed over to me as Kristen joined Ivan and they went into their briefing together, which made sense given they were clearly in a relationship.

  “Were you waiting for me?” Brody asked. “I’m heading to the hotel. You want to go with?”

  Had I been waiting for him? I glanced up at him and his easy smile.

  “Yeah, sure.” I’d parked at the Fairmont and walked here with Erin as she rambled on about this promo or that opportunity or this threat. Apparently, Brody was designated a threat, but I’d stopped listening at that point. I’d planned to walk back, but I should have done that when he went in because I wasn’t really waiting for him as such.

  Liar.

  We wrapped up in our coats, and he pulled a ridiculously cute beanie down to cover his ears that had to be a gift from a niece or nephew given it was emblazoned with the message ‘I’m the best uncle’. I wanted to ask him about it. I felt like I wanted to peel back a layer from the man I knew only through a television screen, but as usual the words weren’t there for me. On social media, I would caption a shot of him with something like ‘cute beanie, way to be a sexy uncle’ but in real life that would sound nonsensical. When we headed outside, the cold wind slapped us with a promise of snow. The day was even colder than earlier, the sun weak behind gray clouds fat with snow, and we headed across the grass at a brisk pace, both of us letting out audible shivering noises to indicate just how cold it was.

  “Did they make you sign a non-disclosure?” he asked as he jumped a small pile of snow. “Why would they even think we’d go out and tell anyone about who won each round? That would be spoiling it for the viewers.”

  I made a non-committal hmmm noise because Erin would demand I share anything I could to get more likes. With her words in my ear, I’d balked at signing the damn form until the show’s legal team reminded me that it was their way or the highway. Apparently, they could just as easily make this a five person charity event if I wanted them to, and they didn’t hesitate to let me know.

  He carried on talking. “Although, I still can’t believe they tweeted the photo of the winner of Drag Race in an advert for the finale.”

  “They did? For real?” Drag Race? I loved that show, but as usual I was still catching up, and I was only on episode one of the new season. I couldn’t share my love for it. Apparently, the show wasn’t good for my profile, too in your face, too flamboyant, too everything that Erin’s team deemed awkward for my sponsors. I thought we had a lot of crossover, mostly because I loved it, and secondly, because it would be so cool to do a Drag Race inspired event on my Instagram, maybe a charity event like this?

  “Yeah, spoiled it for everyone.”

  “I’ve only seen the first episode.”

  He side-eyed me and then made a motion to zip his lips. “Stay off Twitter, and don’t get me drunk.”

  “Huh?” Seriously, what was it about Brody that had me unable to form full sentences?

  “Two glasses of wine and I’m liable to tell you who won.”

  “Okay, then I won’t get you drunk.” I laughed along with him, although the thought of a giggling Brody having to lean on me to stand up and whispering Drag Race secrets in my ear had my jeans getting tight. What I wouldn’t give for Brody to get up in my space like that.

  A particularly icy blast of wind bearing new snow caught us, but instead of grimacing, Brody held his face up to the sky and stuck out his tongue, catching a snowflake and then side-eyeing me again.

  “Stupid, I know, but the first snow, it’s like a thing I do.”

  A thing. Probably with his family or his friends. A thing I’d never done because snow isn’t always pretty in New York City. After a few days it turned to slush, was gray and wet, and when it froze it was treacherous. Still, I copied what he did. I loved that he laughed because his laugh was just this fucking awesome sound that stripped me of all my inhibitions. He gripped my arm and held me upright as I began to slip. I could kiss him. I could pretend to fall. I could—stop now!

  Chapter Four

  Never make plans with croissants. They’re so flaky.

  Justin

  “So, you signed all the forms then?” I blurted as we drew closer to the hotel, knowing that this was a nice safe thing to comment on. I wanted to talk to him about all kinds of things, but right now my social well of things that didn’t include hashtags and acronyms was low.

  “Yeah, so many forms. I’m excited about the show. You?”

  “Definitely, I’ve been looking forward to it since they approached me.” Woot, I made an entire sentence and finished on a question. Go me!

  “I loved the tiramisu muffins you posted on your channel last week, and in the spirit of the baking comrades, I’d love to steal the idea.” He waggled his eyebrows but was that him trying for evil stealer of ideas or for cute? Cute was definitely winning.

  “You can have it. I stole it first.” I was so ridiculously proud when he huffed a laugh.

  “It’s not exactly stealing though is it when you’re inspired by someone. But I have to say your Instagram is cool. I check out your stuff all the time and comment too.”

  “I haven’t seen you on there.” Shit. Why did I say that? I sound like a crazy stalker.

  “Oh, you wouldn’t because we have the company accounts that my sister looks after, but my private account is just that, and it’s in a different name.”

  I wish I’d known he followed me, then I could have done something. But what? What could I have done? Messaged him? The account he used wasn’t in his name, he’d just said that, so how could I have found it to message Brody himself? His company Instagram didn’t connect with me, and my social media strategy was a delicate balance, and who I followed was a carefully planned game. Following Bakes by Brody might be seen as me endorsing a particular celebrity or brand that he was working with. I had to look out for number one, reinforced by Erin, whom I paid to keep a strict eye on my brand. With her team behind me, I was going to pull in more money than I would need to hit that final target. The one I’d set where I would never have to worry about money again. After all this, I decided to change the subject back to baking.

  “I loved the galaxy cake you did in the final of your season.” I probably sounded lame, although it was true. The cake had been genius, right on trend, and I was a fan of taking baking off in other directions.

  He wrinkled his nose, and I wanted to kiss him.

  Take a step back.

  “Thank you, I was super proud of that one.”

  “I tried to make it, but the colors weren’t right, and it didn’t hang upside down quite the way I wanted it to.”

  “It was hard to get it to hang. The secret is in the hidden discs.”

  “Yeah, it wasn’t just that, I had the discs okay, it was the bake itself. The texture lacked something, and I ended up throwing it in the garbage before it fell off the hook. The last thing I need is for my pathetic copy to end up on a celebrity Nailed-It issue right next to your perfection.”

  I could hear the self-derision that dripped from my every syllable and waited for him to run in the opposite direction. I personally thought that Brody was a creative genius, and right from day one everyone said he would win season four. Even though season four ended up being the hardest season of them all, he’d sailed through nearly every round, aside from bread week in the blind challenge where he’d not used enough yeast. Even that mistake he’d carried off so easily, laughing at his stupidity, and making it through on taste alone and his other two bakes. If that had been me, I’d have thrown the non-risen shit out of the window and hoped it didn’t kill a passing tourist taking photos on a studio tour.

  Why am I even here? I have no chance. I’m going to look stupid. I should change the subject before I blurted out that posting the cake was in the hope that he’d notice an
d maybe contact me.

  “We all have days like that.” He certainly didn’t run as I expected him to. “I saw you mentioned the cake on your Instagram again last week. Thank you, Justin, it meant a lot that you did that. I got a couple of people approaching me for birthdays, with that and the promo from the Lomax cake, I’m booked through to fall next year.”

  “That Lomax design was stunning.” Betty Lomax was a singer and actress and she’d married Stinn-G the multimillionaire rapper. Images of the cake had blown up on social media. Formed from cascading sponges, it was covered in intricate and delicate sugar lace, the same design that’d covered the bride’s dress. Brody was a baker in capital letters. He didn’t need set managers tidying up his messes as I did. He probably did everything himself.

  “Thank you, it was a favorite of mine. But I loved the galaxy birthday cake as well.”

  We walked a little farther in silence, and then I thought of the perfect conversation starter.

  “Is your husband staying here with you?” Whatever I felt for the guy, whatever this crazy pull to be near him was, I wasn’t going to act on it with a married man. “His proposal was pretty special, being on the show and all.”

  “You mean the proposal that overshadowed the one successful thing I’d done on my own?” Bitterness and sarcasm dripped from his words.

  “Uhmm… ”

  “Shit,” he said and stopped walking as he kicked at the snow that’d formed a ridge. “Sorry, ignore me. No, he’s not here, and I’m in the hotel on my own. We’re actually getting a divorce. Getting? We’re minutes away from it being final. I have the papers to sign. But I haven’t done it yet because doing that would be me admitting that I hadn’t worked hard enough on my marriage, but I will sign them.” There was a lot of emotion in his voice as he blurted all that out, and I regretted asking. He was pale as if he’d exposed the worst truth of his life.