Sammy moved to help her, leaning close enough to whisper. “I can’t believe you would consider any offer from this creep.”
Irritation flared. Did he really think she would take Victor seriously? “Just—”
“What did you say?” Victor rounded on them.
Sammy squared up. “I said, you are a creep.”
Then just like in a bad movie, Victor shot his cuffs and adjusted his jacket. He cracked his neck once and put up his fists. “Come over here and say that to me.”
What was happening right now? “Sammy—”
“Victor, I’m not going to fight you.” Sammy shook his head and pushed the cake cart a few inches. “You’re not worth it.”
“Fine.” Victor held up his hands in a surrender and backed up a foot. “But don’t think that calling me names will do you any favors. I deserve an apology.”
“Come on, man. What’s your problem?” Sammy tried to push past Victor. Robin reached out her hand to touch his shoulder, his forearm, or anything just to calm him down. She could see Sammy’s back muscles bunching under his shirt. He was just out of reach.
Victor put his hands on Sammy’s chest. “You called me a creep, and you are embarrassing me in front of all these people. I demand an apology.”
“Not gonna happen,” Sammy said.
Everything became sharply etched in Robin’s mind as Sammy tried to shrug off Victor’s arms.
Victor moved tighter in, his face inches from Sammy’s.
Sammy shoved him back. “Get off me.”
The move lifted the smaller man up and off his feet. He twisted sideways as he fell, his own arm whacking his face.
“Noooooo!” Robin reached out a hand to catch him, but it was too late.
Victor stumbled, arms wheeling.
Then landed directly on her masterpiece.
Blobs of confection splatted everywhere. She wiped a gob of golden frosting from her cheek. Victor lay there, staring at the ceiling a moment. Around them, a murmur rose from the other contestants.
Half of the cake remained intact, but the other half lay shattered.
She looked at Sammy through blurred vision. Horror filled his eyes.
How could this have happened a second time? First the Adamses’ anniversary dessert, and now the one she’d been thinking of as her redemption cake. Maybe God didn’t want her baking cakes after all.
On the cake, the torn fondant on the castle’s east side winked at her.
“Ladies and gentlemen.” The announcer’s voice rang loud over the din around them. “Please move your creations to the front of the room.”
Victor picked himself up and out of her cake. He brushed off the front of his shirt, then used the back of his hand to wipe the back of his chef’s jacket. Frosting streaked up his spine and into his hair. His jaw bore an angry red mark all the way to his left ear from where he’d hit himself.
He tugged at the bottom of his jacket. “I am needed at the judging booth.” Raising his chin, he stalked off.
Sammy’s gaze turned pleading. “Robin, I—”
She cut Sammy off with a curt wave of her hand. “Don’t. I can’t do that right now.” She wasn’t angry. She just couldn’t handle his sympathy or apologies right now. She went back to their sink and snagged a rag. Wiping down the cart to get rid of most of the excess frosting became almost hypnotic. Every time Sammy reached to help her, she moved in his way.
She needed to do this on her own.
Because speaking to him would undo her. And if she couldn’t shine, at least she could hold on to her last shred of dignity.
