“I’m willing to beg.” Sammy leaned forward in his chair. “I don’t want any special favors—the rest of the teams could have the same second chance if they want.”
“Look at his eyes. It must be true love.” Bless this judge’s wife and her romantic heart.
The judge sighed. He ran a hand over his brow. “Fine. Let me make some calls. This isn’t something that I have full control over.” He stepped away from the table.
Sammy drummed his fingers on the tabletop. He willed himself to sit still.
“Have you known the girl long?” the judge’s wife asked.
“I’ve known her since high school.” He remembered that girl he’d known and the woman she’d grown into. His chest expanded. She was always on his mind.
“Michael and I were high-school sweethearts too,” she said.
Sammy started to correct her, because they weren’t really sweethearts, were they? Truth was, he didn’t know what they were. He only knew that he loved her. The truth sat in his mind a moment.
“I love her,” he blurted.
“Of course you do, dear,” she said. “How can you not love those curls and that talent?”
He nodded. But it wasn’t just Robin’s looks and her flair for cakes that he loved. It went far deeper than that. He loved the way she saw the best in people. He’d seen it in her when she’d worked with Ben and later with the other youth. He loved that she showed resilience in the face of problems. She knew what she wanted, and he admired that.
Wow. He loved Robin Fox.
The judge came back. “It’s unanimous. You have your extension. One of our people will contact the other teams. You can repair or replace your cake with what you have on hand, but you only have until six a.m. They need to turn over the baking stations for the junior competition. The judges will be coming in at a quarter past six to be ready for the eight a.m. announcement.”
“Thank you! We’ll be ready.” Sammy shook the judge’s hand and turned toward the door.
Behind him, the wife sighed. “Ah, young love.”
Too impatient for the elevator, he took the stairs two at a time down to Robin’s floor and jogged to her room.
He knocked on the door. No answer. She had to be in there, though, right? He banged on it again. “Robin,” he called through the closed door. “I know you’re avoiding me right now, but just listen.” He heard a shuffle on the other side. “I talked to the judge. They’re going to give you another chance.”
The door flew open. “What? What are you talking about?” Robin stood there in a T-shirt and—were those fuzzy, polka-dot pj’s?
He relayed the information about running into the judge and his wife at the restaurant. “We just have to have something ready by six.”
Robin’s laugh caught him off guard. “Oh, is that all? Just whip up a cake?” She looked at the ceiling then back at him. “With what kitchen? With what ingredients?”
Oh. Right.
“We can use our old kitchen set-up in the ballroom. As for the rest, we’ll figure something out. Come on.” He held out his hand to her. “Let me at least try. Listen, Robin, I’m sorry for overreacting earlier. It’s just that I care for you. In fact, I realized tonight that I love you, and I want to help you. Ever since my accident I have been looking for something, and I’m realizing that you’ve changed my life. I want to be with you.”
“Okay. Wow. Really, you had me at ‘Let me try,’ but I’ll take the rest too.” A spark of excitement lit her eyes. She joined her hand in his. “All right. Let’s do this.”
He pulled her into the hallway. “Attagirl.”
“Um, Sammy?” He turned to her. “I should probably get dressed first.”
A few minutes later they rode the elevator down to the first floor. Taking a left when the doors opened, they made the short hike to the ballroom where the contest was. Robin had slipped into a pair of jeans and a sweater, a backpack slung over her shoulder. She tied her hair into a high ponytail on top of her head.
The doors were locked, because of course there wouldn’t be anyone there at—he looked at his watch—ten thirty at night.Think fast, Johnson.“Wait here. I’ll get the front desk to let us in.”
“Do you really—” Robin said behind him, but he didn’t wait for her to finish that sentence. They hadn’t come all the way to New York City just to have a little thing like a locked door stop them.
He ran into the hotel manager coming down the hall. “Ma’am,” he called out. “Can you come and open this door for us?”
“I just received word from the competition people to let you in.” The manager held up a ring of keys and followed Sammy back to the ballroom.
