Cupcakes and Christmas: A Bake Off inspired MM Christmas Romance

by R. J. Scott

  I was filled with positive energy and the directors interviewed the three of us separately. By the time we headed back to the Fairmont, I was exhausted, happy, and all I wanted to do was to lay on the bed and cuddle with Brody.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Oh Pilates?! I thought you said pie and lattes!

  Brody

  There’s a photo that I have seen everywhere. It’s of a stunning turquoise lake with mountains behind it and a glimpse of the Victoria Glacier, and the water is so clear that it reveals tumbled stones beneath. I never once imagined I’d actually see this wonderful place for real, but here I was, with Justin and Clare, right on the shores of Lake Louise, outside a huge hotel, where we were doing finalist sound bites. Clare was up first and had been hurried off to the perfect spot for filming, which gave Justin and me a short space to chat away from the camera. I’d take any free moment I could.

  “It’s so blue,” Justin declared. I knew things about this place, and he’d just given me an opening for me to blurt them all out.

  “The color is because of the rock flour carried in the glacial melt. The sun reflects off the glacial wash particles in the water refracting blue and green wavelengths of light.”

  He side-eyed me. “How do you even know that?”

  I waved the leaflet in my gloved hands right in front of his face. “It says so in here.”

  “You’re a cheat.” He elbowed me. “Anyway, I can go one better without a leaflet.”

  “Go on then,” I encouraged because I’d grown to love those moments when the shutters fell from Justin’s eyes, and he smiled with genuine enthusiasm and glee.

  “Did you know that Lake Louise is dammed by an early Holocene moraine formed by Victoria Glacier?”

  “I did not know that,” I admitted and was impressed that he didn’t appear to have a leaflet.

  “To be honest, it probably formed during the Eisenhower Junction glaciation.”

  “Wow.”

  “Exactly.” He snapped his fingers, which didn’t work quite as well when he was wearing gloves, but then he brushed at his shoulders instead and looked smug.

  “Did you study geology or something?”

  He raised an eyebrow and there was mischief in his expression. “Google is my friend.”

  I wanted to tease more of that soft smile, make him admit to what else he’d learned for today, but it was his turn for sound bites, and I was abruptly left alone with Clare. That would have been okay if she’d done her usual thing of ignoring me the same as she did everyone, but for some reason, she came to stand next to me where Justin had been, and weirdly she was very close.

  “So, what do you think about Justin’s chances then?” she asked in a low tone, which instantly put me on edge. She had to know we were friends at least, so why was she coming over and asking me that?

  “Uh—”

  “He’s nowhere near my level, all that mess yesterday with the macaroons. Yes, they tasted good, but let’s face it, he’s not my level. Or yours.” The last part she added quickly as if she’d only just remembered who she was talking to. “You know it should be us in the final, right?”

  “I think that anyone who reaches the final will deserve it.” I remained tactful even though I wanted to ask her what the hell was she implying.

  “Yes, but we’re the two best in the competition. It should be us.”

  Okay, her insistence of me agreeing with this damning statement was freaking me out. “As I said, the judges will—”

  “It would be awful if Justin messed up the next round because he simply can’t make the grade, don’t you think. I mean, I’d feel so sorry for him.”

  “We could all mess up.” I forced my hands in my pockets and took a casual step away from her, but she placed a hand on my arm.

  “I know the two of you are close,” she placated. “But if his bake tomorrow failed, you wouldn’t want him to look stupid, would you? Maybe you could encourage him to do something simple that wouldn’t put him through to the final, but that would leave his pride intact.”

  I took another step back. “Sorry?” I was horrified. “You want me to encourage Justin to self-sabotage?”

  “Well, it would be good for him,” she added and reached out to pat my arm. I moved right away before she even got to me.

  “You’re insane.”

  Her benign smile slipped, and her expression grew hard. Her gaze frosty. “You know I’m going to win this one way or another, I just thought you might want to save your lover from the absolute shame of exposing that he’s completely useless at this.” She sounded so freaking sly, and I stiffened in anger.

  “What the hell—”

  “Also, it’s not like he needs the money, for God’s sake, see sense, man!” With that, she stalked away, head held high, and I was left on the shores of the peaceful turquoise lake feeling dirty. The rumors at the last reunion were that she’d cheated to win season six, some combination of paying off staff to actually switching out bakes, but no one had caught her on camera, and no witnesses stepped forward. Twitter loved a bad guy, and she’d somehow scraped a win based on talent but also on the sheer bad luck of her fellow contestants. An oven set too high, jelly that didn’t set, a missing custard. None of what happened was conclusive, and I was one of those people who liked to think the best of others, but by the time Justin came back to me with his sound bites done, I’d worked up a full head of righteous indignation.

  “Jeez, don’t tell me she propositioned you?” Justin teased, and I snapped back to see his smiling face. I was on the cusp of spilling out what she’d just proposed, but why should I put a voice to her insidious suggestions. What would that do for Justin’s self-esteem after he’d admitted he felt lucky to be in the last three. I made a show of shaking my head clear of her company and returned his smile.

  “She has no chance.” I tugged him closer and kissed him in full view of the cameras, the hotel, and several groups of milling tourists staring at the most perfect view in the world. It was a simple, frosty, sparkling kiss, and it was perfect. “She’s just a class A… ” I wanted to say bitch, but my momma had taught me always to respect people whatever evil streak they had in them. “Nasty person,” I finished.

  Justin slipped off a glove and rooted for his phone, pulling it out and getting us to pose for a selfie with the lake behind us. He typed the caption and passed the phone to me for approval, something he’d started doing in the last couple of days after he’d admitted he was feeling more respectful of my brand. I’m not sure I even had a brand on social media, but he told me I did, so I bowed to his experience. I read the caption out loud.

  “Lake Louise, possibly the most surreal place I’ve ever seen. It’s like something out of a movie and with Brody next to me it’s the best kind of day. Word is that in the middle of the lake there’s an iceberg, but we realized it’s just Clare. #WhereIsClare #TheresClare #IcyHeart.” I snorted a laugh and then bent at the waist when the single laugh became me losing the will to keep the laughter in. He joined me, and we laughed like a couple of idiots for so long that I missed my call to go over for my sound bites and had to be collected by an eye-rolling Rita, who had to tug me down the path.

  When I spoke about the competition and my hopes and dreams for the last chance to get to the final, I was still grinning like an idiot, not helped because Justin stood behind the camera crew making faces. Every time Rita turned to look at him, the particular face he was pulling would be replaced by a benign smile.

  He made my heart full. He made me laugh. I loved that. I loved his smile, and his heart, and his eyes, and just as we finished the interviews, I realized one very important thing that almost took me to my knees.

  I love so many parts of Justin.

  It wouldn’t take much for me to love all of him.

  Clare said nothing on the way back to the Fairmont Springs Banff Hotel and when the van dropped us off, she stormed off, followed at a slower pace by the crew, and then it was just us again, and we had the
rest of the day to ourselves. I’d like to say we were celebrities in this beautiful Christmas town, being that we were in a huge US baking show but firstly, this was Canada, and secondly, everyone was so chill about the filming that took place here at all times of the year. We bought gifts from The Rocky Mountain Soap Company, had a coffee in Whitebark Cafe, and spent two hours in The Spirit of Christmas shop. It was a vast space full of polished dark wood, filled with everything Christmas, from tiny fragile ornaments to huge train displays. My favorite thing was a full-size stuffed moose, which currently had toy monkeys sitting on its back. Justin took photos of everything. We didn’t stop talking, from Justin’s story about how the toy monkeys were naughty, particularly Errol, who needed spanking. Who would have thought that a long-winded and whispered scenario about spanking the monkey would mean we laughed uncontrollably for at least ten minutes?

  “I love Christmas.” I picked up the best Banff tree ornament I could find, a moose sitting on a bench, in painted wood, and added it to my basket of awesome, which is what I called the pile of souvenirs I was buying for family. It didn’t help that Justin kept adding items for me to give away, some cute, some ridiculous, and I must have had about a hundred dollars’ worth of the pretty in there.

  “Me too,” Justin admitted, but he didn’t sound right. I’m not sure what I was picking up in his tone, but I felt as if I was missing something obvious. I took a Santa from a shelf that said ho-ho-ho whenever it was moved and pretended not to have noticed a thing.

  “What are your plans this year?” I asked and tilted the Santa one more time.

  He picked up a glitter ball and hung it from his finger so it spun and caught the light, reflecting it back on his face. “I’ll probably do a live thing for fans, and maybe a bake that is anti-turkey for the people at home who don’t do the whole Christmas dinner event.”

  “Don’t you enjoy the dinner part?” I recalled last year, post breakup with asshole-Marc, and how sitting on a short chair amongst many a mismatched chair, with family squeezing in for space was my happy space. No one gave me a chance to wallow. The kids climbed over me and told me I was their favorite uncle. My mom spoiled me. My siblings went over the top with stupid gag gifts to us all, after each course. To me, that single moment was the best part of the day.

  “I do.” He spun the glitter ball, and I was dizzy watching it. “Just difficult to be bothered when it’s just me on my own. Not that it’s an issue, I love getting up on my own time frame, listening to music, watching Christmas movies, eating what I want, doing what I want.”

  “Cool,” I lied because that sounded so sad. “You know, this year, if you wanted to you could come and visit me and suffer through the chaos of my family’s Christmas.”

  “Yeah?” He replaced the ball and picked up another. This one a collection of fur, feathers, and diamanté. “I’m booked out this year really.”

  “Well if anything cancels and you’re stuck for something to do… ” Please be with me at Christmas. Please let this last past the show. Please fall for me as hard as I am falling for you.

  “Let’s pay, yeah? We still need to eat and check on Jeremy, and then… ” He leaned in for a quick kiss and then sashayed away, holding two of the furry decorations from his ears like earrings. He’d avoided any kind of commitment at all in the conversation, and the soft fuzzy lovey feelings I was harboring had a new emotion in the collection—fear. This was just a fling. I was opening my heart for no reason, and I was contemplating the next step when I should be thinking about the here and now. I’d spent my entire time with Marc seeing the future that was a mix of love and kids and making a family home where maybe one day we could host an event such as a Christmas dinner. I’d been so blinded by the future that I hadn’t spent enough time in the present and look where that got me.

  Still, his enthusiasm and laughter were so infectious, that by the time we lugged everything back to the hotel, I’d forgotten the warning signs, or at least chose to ignore them. We deposited the gifts in my room then headed straight for dinner on the top floor with its spectacular views, all the while holding hands like teenagers and stealing kisses behind the other guests in the queue. I don’t know if it was the kisses or the laughing, but they seated us in a corner in high-backed chairs, and it felt as if we were the only people in the entire place.

  He reached for my hand and laced our fingers. We ate the shrimp starter, one-handed, chatting about the show, Clare, and today. Never once did we revisit Christmas and what it meant to either of us or why, but that was a good thing because the filmy veil over that part of the day was enough for us not to see the crack.

  After starters, steak with all the trimmings was when we finally let go of each other’s hands, and then we both slumped into our chairs.

  “I’m stuffed,” he grumbled and tipped his head back in the chair and closed his eyes. “You know this might have been the best day of my entire life.”

  “Even better than the hot springs?” I teased, but he opened his eyes and leaned forward, taking my hand again.

  “I had to share you at the springs, today I had you all to myself.” He was so earnest, his azure eyes clear, his hand tightened on mine. “I liked that. For the first time ever I wanted that.”

  “Oh.”

  He huffed a laugh and shook his head. “Yep, it’s intense, I know.”

  “Cute,” I finished what I was going to say, and he wrinkled his nose.

  “You think I’m cute?” he deadpanned.

  “I didn’t say you were cute, I meant what you said was cute,” I teased in return, and he squeezed my hand.

  “Ass. So what do you have planned for tomorrow for the wedding theme?” He waggled his eyebrows theatrically. “Because you’re the wedding king, and I need to steal your ideas.”

  I ignored the pull inside at being labeled the wedding king when I was now officially divorced, so I leaned in to him and lowered my voice. “I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”

  He clutched his chest in mock horror. “I thought I knew you.”

  “Actually, I’m incorporating chocolate work, which I’m dreading.”

  “You’ll easily win,” he reassured me. “I’m sticking to a theme of ice for the cupcakes and the wedding cake showpiece.”

  “That’s a clever take on seasonal. Mine is more flowery, so I hope I pull it off because it gets so hot in the room, and the chocolate work is detailed.”

  We talked for so long about everything and nothing, and I made him laugh with stories about growing up in my madhouse family, and he told me about all the stupid that was involved in marketing products. We wandered through the Fairmont, staring in the small shops that sold items I would never spend money on, and then we were finally at the elevators.

  “Jeremy?” His finger hovered over the button for his floor. He looked at me and crooked a grin. What I wanted to say was that I’d rather we used some of the stuff we picked up today, preferably in his suite, but I guess he was right. We needed to check on Jeremy then we should really head to bed after. Separately. Tomorrow was important.

  “Yeah.”

  The path was empty again, the darkness all consuming, broken only by the lamps, and it was a space for secrets and kisses and more joy than I thought possible. For a moment, I wonder if I’d been drugged because I wasn’t sure I’d felt this happy being with a guy before. This wasn’t like my time with Marc. This was shiny and bright and hopeful.

  With Jeremy fixed, we headed back in to the warmth of the indoors and then to the elevator, and again I was offered a choice, only this time Justin tugged me close and kissed me. We both knew what we’d been working up to all day, and the thought of going to my own room now was hell.

  “You wanna?” he asked with his crooked grin that made everything right.

  All the laughter from today and the sheer joy of being together made me step into his arms.

  “Hell yeah.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  You can’t buy happiness,
but you can buy cake, and that’s kind of the same thing

  Justin

  “I guess you should know I haven’t been with anyone seriously since Marc.” Brody stated this as soon as the door to my room shut and closed us off from the world. He sounded embarrassed and cautious, but I decided that walking him backward while kissing the life out of him was a significantly good way to show him how sexy that was. I couldn’t believe how possessive I felt and honored that he was interested in me. We met at the bed, sprawling onto the cover, and I had to break the kisses and stare down at the man who was sex personified, at the one person who had managed to push through the wall I’d erected around myself. Soft lamplight highlighted his skin, shadows on the planes of his body that I wanted to explore.

  “For real?” I asked, not because I didn’t believe him but because I was the luckiest man alive.

  “Seeing him with another man broke me, I think. It’s been a year since I’ve had someone inside me.”

  Brody was risking everything by telling me this, and I bet he half expected me to roll off and call it a night, but I was taking my own risks tonight in showing Brody what he meant to me, and I refused to let him think it mattered.

  “I wish I knew the right words to tell you—”

  He cut off my words with a kiss, grabbing me and somehow hoisting me up the bed. We hadn’t even taken off our coats, two huge teddy bears rolling around, and the absurdity of it all hit me at the same time as he let out a frustrated groan and shoved me away to yank off his coat, scarf, hat, gloves, and I was right behind him, neither of us stopping until we were naked. We then met in the middle and crashed down on the mattress winded. Never let it be said that this was graceful sexiness, this was need and lust, and I was riding the wave as if I never wanted it to stop. There was clumsily bad coordination, legs twisting, hands not knowing where to go, bumping and laughing but there was none of the awkwardness that comes along with being with someone new.