by R. J. Scott
“I’m sorry,” I murmured, and I was sorry because he looked destroyed. I really wish he’d been on social media so I could get a glimpse of who he was. All I knew was that he created the most amazing cakes for celebrities and that he’d gotten a six page spread in U.S. Baker, and now I knew he was getting a divorce which clearly wasn’t public knowledge.
“Me too,” he said. “I don’t know why I even told you because I sure as hell don’t want my appearance on the show to be dogged down in what happened.
“What happened? I mean you don’t have to say, I don’t even know why I asked.”
He shrugged and shook his head, that beautiful carefree smile not showing any chance of returning. “It’s okay, but can you keep that to yourself for a bit?”
“Of course, I’m sorry—”
“It’s okay,” he interrupted and I took that as him not wanting to talk about it. He started walking again, and I tried not to think about the fact he would be on the market again. The man was clearly devastated by the divorce, and I wondered if the split had been due to something he’d done? They say it takes two to make a marriage work, so I should stay away from jumping to any conclusions. By the time I’d worked my way through all of that we’d reached the parking area, and he stopped by the brand new BMW X1. “Wow, is this the car from your post? The one you drove up here in?”
“Yeah,” I said, sucked in by his wide grin. He looked so happy compared to a moment ago, and I loved it.
“I saw it on your channel.” He patted the hood. “Guess social media pays well.” I searched for a sign he was hating on me, but actually he was smiling again, and all I could think was that I was thankful to see that smile return.
I was desperate to press my fingers to that grin, even more so now that I knew he was free. I shouldn’t feel happy. It was wrong. I should have compassion, but my stupid brain was stuck on him being alone. Stupidly happy, like a kid filled with the expectation of Christmas. So happy it drowned out the terror of being on the show.
I cleared my throat as he patted the hood. “I don’t actually own the car, but the dealership endorses me, so they arranged for me to pick it up in Calgary to drive here in exchange for some posts along the way.”
Brody turned to me and then leaned against the car, striking a pose. “Take a selfie then and make sure you get the decal in. We can kill two birds with one stone. You get a post with the car, and I get to gloat to my petrol-head brother, who will be green to see me next to one of these beauties.”
I could do that. It would actually be a good thing. Another contestant, the car, the snow, the Fairmont Banff Springs Hotel behind, only I would have to be in the photo as well.
“How about a short video?”
He looked uncertain for a moment then pulled his shoulders back and nodded.
I stood next to him, and he leaned into me, in proper selfie-mode. I counted us in then pressed record.
“Hi, Mallys! Day one and guess who I found next to my car? Only Brody from season four. Say hi, Brody.”
Brody not only said hi, but he added an extra wave, and immediately the hearts began to climb the screen. I turned it back to me, making sure to get the decal of the car and the hotel sign in the shot.
“Signing off for now, back to find my room. Later, Mallys!”
I ended the short video and pocketed my cell.
Brody was grinning ear to ear, the earlier mention of his former husband forgotten. He rambled on about his older brother, Joe, and how jealous Joe would be, and that took us all the way into the foyer of the Fairmont. We stopped by the elevators.
“So, I guess I’ll see you at three for the Christmas sweater thing? We have to be in makeup then I think.” He pulled a sheet of paper from his coat pocket and fumbled with it in his gloves. “Yeah, makeup at three, initial filming at five.”
“Cool, what are you going as?”
“A snowman. You?”
“Reindeer.”
He looked up at my hair and then back down to meet my gaze. “Antlers?”
“Obviously.” I smiled back, and then we were done with things to talk about. I had it in my head to ask him if he wanted a coffee, but it was too late because he started talking.
He pointed at the stairs. “I’m taking the stairs up to 217. You?”
“502,” I said, and we split up then, him taking the stairs and me using the elevator up to the suites on the top floor with views over Banff and up to the mountains.
Even as I stood in the beautiful room with its views and its large two man tub, I just knew one thing.
I wished I was in room 218.
The room right next to Brody.
I couldn’t get Brody out of my head even as I showered, but it wasn’t in a sexual way, it was pure jealousy that I had to fight. I’d watched every episode of Brody’s season at least four times, some scenes even more. I’d marveled at his dexterity with all things baked and watched the way he would push back his bangs and smile with his eyes. I also recalled big Marc though, the husband, pulling Brody into a hug and whirling him around when it was announced he was the winner. Then the family descending.
Brody wasn’t like me. He had a life, a family, a reason to get out of bed every day, and what was I?
I was the man who would have ripped apart any attraction and used every part of it to make more money. So why would he believe me when I was telling the truth?
I towel-dried my hair mindlessly as I stared at myself in the half fogged mirror, my reflection appearing as it slowly cleared. A therapist would have a field day in my head. Hell, some of them had, but I’d come this far, and there was no way to turn back. No way to get off the train that had me so close to financial security.
My financial security would lead to emotional stability and that meant I could be a part of real life.
Then no one could hurt me.
Chapter Five
My baking is fabulous, even the smoke alarm is cheering me on
Brody
Safely in my room I stripped off my coat, gloves, scarf, beanie, and boots then slumped into the chair in the corner. I’d made it very clear to Justin that I was getting divorced. I’d even thrown in the fact that I didn’t have a partner right now, although maybe I should add it to our next conversation and make it clearer.
He was just as sexy in person as he was online. Gorgeous with all that blond spiky hair and those startling blue eyes. I could fall into those eyes and never come out again. The times I stared at his photos, lost in thought, and wondered if maybe he was in a position like mine, on his own, ready to move on from something huge and wanting to kiss. Maybe end up in bed. Or both. Talking about what happened with Marc was enough to make my chest tighten, but I was here to forget about Marc, or as Adam said in his usual bossy-twin way that I should come to terms with my life.
Coming to terms with my life might sound dramatic, but I was free now. I would sign the papers, I had to. I didn’t want Marc back, so why was I even hesitating? I pulled them out and laid them one by one on the counter.
Two days ago, they’d arrived at my apartment that’s over the shop. He’d signed his part, and why wouldn’t he. I’d agreed to everything he asked, and it had left me poorer for it. He was something I could draw a line under. Finding out he was cheating on me wasn’t the hardest part, which went a long way to speaking about our relationship. He’d tried to talk to me, even suggested we give things another go if I would only be more amenable to an open relationship.
Fuck that noise.
It was the fact that my husband had put 3B at risk and hurt the relationship I had with my dad. My dad had been the one to explain just how much money had gone missing from his dealership. I hadn’t believed him and went on the defensive immediately. Of course, my husband couldn’t be the one stealing from family. He wouldn’t put my dad’s company in jeopardy. I had to trust him. I had to believe Marc, and in doing so my dad was left out in the cold. I’d refused to talk to Dad for weeks, and in that time my life had b
een miserable. We were a close family, and I was choosing Marc over them. I’d ended up ashamed that I’d let Marc into my life and let him destroy everything. Dad and I were okay now, but there was an indelible mark left by what I’d done.
Then of course, I found him in bed with our supplier. Our bed. How freaking cliché was that? It was as though he wanted me to know what he was doing, and then I realized how much damage I’d done. With the papers in front of me, I sent a quick text to Mom. I love you both xxx. Her reply was instant. We love you too. Good luck in the competition. xxxx
I needed to check in with my sister. Lacey was my right hand woman at 3B and was also running the small coffee shop attached to our kitchen, so I called her next.
“Hey,” I began but didn’t get another word in as she second guessed every question I had.
“The Settler wedding cakes are done, all three of them. Tony is out delivering, and we had two more orders for your ivory cupcake wedding layout, January and July. I can handle that. Three emails overnight asking for interviews now that you’re back on the show. I declined two, they aren’t going to help our profile, but the third one is a follow up from U.S. Baker magazine. They want to negotiate a ‘day in the life of a star baker’ and follow you around here.”
“I’m not sure that—”
“When they said it was dependent on where you reached in this competition, I suggested that we revisit after Christmas as you are very busy with media availability. So yes, I lied, but they don’t know that and fuck them with their provisos regarding the show.”
“Okay, I—”
“Oven four wasn’t baking evenly, but I called on the oven guys to come straight over. I flirted so hard I got us a twenty-five percent discount, and they fixed the issue. Although one of them played for your team, and I did tell them you would be back in two weeks, so they suggested a follow up.”
“I don’t need—”
“Don’t shout at me, I can hear your brain sorting through words from here. Oh, and we have one of the Ks desperate for you to design a submarine and octopus birthday cake, but I said we were all booked until 2025, particularly when she said she had some ideas which incidentally she forwarded onto me just in case you had availability. They are hilariously bad, so I’ll send them on to you. I think that’s it.”
I hadn’t managed to get a word in edgewise but to be honest she didn’t really need to tell me a single thing. I considered her my business partner. In fact, after this competition I was going to make it official and give her half the company. She didn’t bake, so we had a small team that would be covering in my absence, but she managed the company with ruthless efficiency. I already had papers drawn up to make it official, but I wanted to talk it over with her first and had mentally added it to my to-do list for when I got home.
“Thanks,” I began.
“So, did you hook up with the incredibly sexy, totally gay, luscious Justin?”
Oh my God, what was it with my family? I’d only mentioned to Adam this attraction I had to Justin, but it seemed to have reached Lacey. Next I’ll get a call from Joe, and that will be a sibling full hand.
“I’ve been here a day.”
“And you haven’t hooked up yet?”
“I’m not easy—”
“Get some, for goodness sake, then you won’t have memories of Shit Bag dragging you down.”
“Okay, okay, and can you stop calling my former husband, Shit Bag, I nearly called him that in the last meeting with the lawyers.”
“After what he did to you? He’ll always be Shit Bag to me. Stop changing the subject, did you proposition Justin already.”
“No!”
“Ask him for a coffee?”
“No—”
“Do you have enough condoms?”
“I don’t—”
“Well you should get some because Justin is single with a capital S. You’re single, and you have two weeks to get him to see how good in bed you are.”
“Oh my God, Lacey!”
“Not that I know, but hey, if you’re anything like me—”
“Stop. Now.” I couldn’t hear about my little sister’s sex life, not today, not ever. As far as I and her other two older brothers were concerned, she was a virgin, and she would be one until her wedding day, and maybe even way after that.
She laughed at me because she just loved riling up her siblings, probably something to do with being the only girl in the family.
“Mom and Dad send their love. You should call them.”
“I just texted Mom.”
“Texted? You should call her, talk to Dad as well because you know they’re both fretting about you.”
“I will.” I would bet anything Mom would want details on Justin because sure as eggs were eggs the secret crush I’d told Adam about had reached her as well. Nothing was sacred in this family.
“Hey, I gotta go, the hot oven dude is at the front desk.”
“I thought you told him two weeks—”
“Not him, the other hot dude, the one who said he was going to show me—”
“I don’t want to know!”
“Baby,” she sniggered and ended the call, and then the bedroom was abruptly far too quiet. I filled the time. Made a coffee, ate the cookies in plastic wrap, made some notes on my showpiece for round one of the competition, ordered up a sandwich, then took a shower. Finally, after I’d managed to waste a lot of time trying not to feel excited about seeing Justin again, I grabbed my bag and carefully put my snowman sweater inside. The leather of the bag was so smooth to the touch, worn from constant use, first by my great-grandad and then by my granddad before being passed on to me. The satchel had gone to college with me and was one of the things I took when I ended up outside the apartment I shared with Marc. The scent of it reminded me of home. I couldn’t believe that as a twenty-five-year-old man, I was out of my comfort zone and feeling weirdly homesick.
Bundling up against the cold, I headed back to the annex for our first lot of filming, falling into step with Ivan and Kristen but not spotting Justin anywhere.
Makeup was done. Justin hurried in right on the deadline of three o’clock, and all six contestants in Christmas sweaters headed out to the large hall where the introductions were being filmed.
And then it began.
Chapter Six
A balanced diet is having a cupcake in each hand
Brody
“Each week’s competition will consist of three parts.” Courtney Jacobs shook her right hand enough so that the studio lights caught the large diamond on her ring finger. Stunning and petite, the former weather girl and reality TV star was the show host. She’d done all six seasons, and she knew exactly how to play the crowd, and what to say when. She had this way about her that made the little slips about squirting cream or soggy bottoms sound so innocent.
She’d been counted in by the director then made a grand entrance down the main staircase for our recording, wearing a short train on her long dark blue gown. There wasn’t much she could tell the six of us because we’d done it all before, but this was for the filming. This was the part they would show at the start of episode one, and so, in the middle of October, there was a Christmas tree in the foyer and garlands twisted up and around the banisters and hot lights that made me sweat in my Christmas sweater.
I cast a quick look at the other contestants. The guy herding us around had placed all six of us in series winner order, which meant I was between Kristen, season three winner, who was dressed top to toe in green, and Ivan, the winner of season five, who chose to wear black pants and a Santa sweater. At least his outfit was coordinated. I glanced down at the carrot poking out of my snowman pullover which listed pathetically unless I pushed out my pecs. Sixth was Clare and since she’d just come off from winning the latest season, I’d never spoken to her at a reunion. Her final bake had been the most amazing English country garden created out of chocolate and cake. She’d beaten, by a small margin, Eddie-Lou from Florida with his reimagin
ing of a Disneyland-type garden of the future in choux pastry and spun sugar. Today, Clare’s fairy outfit was in direct contrast to her slightly dour expression. In fact, she’d done nothing but frown and moan about everything, slightly over the diva line with added attitude. She caught my glance and sent me a glare, which instantly made me look away. I peeked back after a little while but now she was glaring at Shauna Summers, who was the season two winner. It seemed that she was just as pissed at life as she had been in series six.
They began gathering video. Courtney as our ‘hostess with the mostest’ announced that she hoped all the viewers had a wonderful Christmas, and that we were in the beautiful Christmassy town of Banff enjoying a beautiful snowy Christmas.
Since the series was being filmed in October, the real reason we were in Banff was because we needed somewhere to film snowy scenes, and L.A. wasn’t going to cut it, but she didn’t say that.
Don’t spoil the dream.
“This five episode charity show featuring the six winners of the show to date will be on your screens once a week leading up to the big day. The final episode where we crown our best of the best will be shown on Christmas Eve.”
She sent the camera a warm smile, added a small pout, and they yelled cut. Something about how she’d spoken made it sound as if she was filming ahead. I didn’t like to point out that we were filming ahead and that is wasn’t live, so to kill the time as they reset, I glanced left to see winners of seasons one and two. Shauna looked as uncomfortable in her Christmas sweater as I did, and clearly wasn’t feeling the elf she was supposed to be. She was another one that never made it to reunions, so I didn’t know her socially, but I thought she might even be trying not to cry. Her eyes were bright, and her lip was caught between her teeth. I wanted to hug her close, but that wouldn’t be playing the game for television. We were rivals, and we needed to stay focused.
