The rest of the teams clapped wildly, and I figured the other teams were probably glad someone was going to give Darla a run for her money if it couldn’t be them. I let the breath out I’d been holding and smiled a real smile—the first one all day.
“Thank you for judging the competition today. I’m glad you enjoyed the cupcake. It just might make it into the bakery case soon,” I said when I shook hands with the judges as they came around to the tables. Once they’d congratulated everyone, Mr. Samson grabbed the microphone.
“Remember, the bake-off starts tomorrow at one o’clock sharp. You’ll have thirty minutes to prep your ingredients beforehand, but you cannot mix anything until the clock starts. Once it’s running, you’ll have ninety minutes to complete the cupcake, exactly as entered on your form, other than your secret ingredient, and present them to the judges. The judges then have one hour to make their final decision and crown the cupcake winner. Any questions?”
We all shook our heads since we’d been through this every year for at least six. While the teams who made it to the final round every year changed, the rules never did, and I had them memorized long ago. Tomorrow morning I’d be putting all my ingredients in individual containers at the bakery. The judges checked everyone’s supplies before the time started, so as long as I followed the no mixing rule, being prepared when I arrived wasn’t against the rules. Once the clock started, all I had to do was begin the mixing. If I didn’t have everything ready to grab and go when the timer started, the cupcakes wouldn’t be cool enough to frost in our allotted time, as many of the teams learned today.
We had the process down to less than ninety minutes because Brady and I were a great team. That was something I would have known sooner if I’d let him break through my tough exterior years ago instead of holding everyone at bay to protect my heart. I will say, with much reluctance, that my heart was as smitten with Brady as my body was. I just wasn’t entirely sure what to do about it. I didn’t want to tell him that and ruin whatever we had going when he didn’t feel the same. I could enjoy the fling for what it was, I suppose, but my birthday was crawling closer with every sunset and sunrise. So, while that red X was no longer visible on the calendar, I could still see it in my mind’s eye.
“Congratulations, Team Fluffy Cupcake,” Darla said when she passed our table on the way up the aisle. “I hope you bring your A-game tomorrow because I have the winning recipe this year. Don’t count me out of this competition just yet.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, Darla,” Brady said while I ignored her completely. It was smarter to do that than say something that would only serve to get me into hot water with her, or worse yet, disqualified from the competition.
“The sass with that one is strong,” Brady said as she strut away like the prima donna she is.
“I would like to forget she exists. At least until I have to see her again tomorrow.”
Brady grinned and untied his apron from around his waist, his trim hips making my mouth water. Since it was July and nearly eighty degrees, we decided to wear shorts with our bakery coats. I wasn’t in the mood to sweat to death, and to be honest, I loved nothing more than him in shorts. His were the color of sand and the texture of seersucker. I was a sucker for everything about him if I was honest with myself. I also had a thing for a nice pair of man calves. Does that make me weird? Probably. Moving on.
“I think we should have a little fun at the fair. What do you think? There won’t be any time tomorrow, and there’s a pronto pup out there with my name on it somewhere,” he was saying when I tore my gaze from his legs.
I tossed my apron in our bin and snapped the lid on it, glad our work was done. “I’m game. Let’s stash this in the van and head out. First, we better check on Amber.”
He grabbed the cart and followed me out of the convention center and toward the van. We locked everything in the back before heading for the food tent, where Amber was stationed with a wide variety of bread, buns, and cupcakes from the bakery, including our strawberry cupcakes à la Hostess. Tomorrow, the crowd would get their first taste of Berry Sinful after the competition was over. Win or lose, I knew the cupcakes were going to be favorites with the community during the summer months.
When we arrived, the tent was less crowded than the one that held all the hot food, which was okay. It was hard to drool over loaves of bread and piles of cupcakes when you couldn’t get near the booth to check out the selection. What I saw when I found our booth stopped me dead in my tracks. There were two loaves of bread and a tray of cupcakes left. Everything else was gone.
“Amber!” I exclaimed, jogging around the end of the table to hug her. “What the heck happened here?”
She was already laughing before she spoke. “I swear, Haylee, everyone wants a taste of your fluffy cupcakes!”
“Too bad,” Brady growled under his breath, “She’s all mine.”
I snorted, and Amber rolled her eyes, the shine of us getting together having worn off the second week we spentmaking googly eyes at each other, as she put it. While she was kidding, we did try to keep our relationship, to whatever extent that was, to a minimum at the bakery, just like we’d promised each other. It was easy right now. We were too busy to worry about anything other than getting our orders done. It would get harder if this lasted into winter when the tourists left, and we didn’t have as much to do every day.
“Someone tried the new chocolate cupcake, started telling everyone about it, and they were like a pack of rabid wolves in here. It was something else. I was afraid I was going to lose a finger.”
“But the question is, did people actually like them once they got one in their paw?” I asked, leaning my hip on the table.
“I’m telling you—it was like nirvana around here the way people’s eyes were rolling around in their heads when they took a bite. If we could package that feeling and sell it, we’d be rich.”
“Well, we can,” Brady said from the other side of the table. “It’s called cupcakes in a box. Voila.”
Amber and I both chuckled. He was right. I was thrilled to hear that they had gone over so well. “I’m honestly surprised. Usually, you have the people who love Hostess cupcakes and the people who can’t stand them. There’s very few who sit on the fence about them.”
Amber pointed at me. “I had many who bought them so they could complain about how fake they tasted blah, blah,” she said, waving her hand. “One bite, and they were moaning along with everyone else. The Able Baker Brady cakes gave people that feeling of being a kid again, but also they pleased their more grownup palate.”
“The Able Baker Brady cakes?” Brady asked with skepticism, and she nodded. “That’s what I started calling them. They were your idea, after all.”
I nodded and winked at him. “They were your idea and a damn good one. We need to make another batch to sell tomorrow then,” I said right away. “People can fill up on those until we break out the Berry Sinful samples.”
“We can whip them up fast in the morning,” Brady agreed. “We don’t have to be here until one, and we don’t have any special orders for the morning, which we did on purpose. The lack of bread here is a problem we have to address, though.”
Amber spun to face him. “They heard that Able Baker Brady’s bread was on display, and they all wanted to poke a loaf or two.” Brady and I burst out laughing at the same time, our shoulders shaking until Amber couldn’t hold it in either. “You two are sickos!”
Brady glanced at the two loaves left on the table. “It looks like all the kitschy flavors are gone.”
“Kitschy,” Amber said, laughing, “exactly what everyone was calling them, too.”