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Chapter23
LANDON
His heart nearly stopped.
Could that be pop’s biggest douche nozzle, Vance Vibe?
He turned toward the syrupy slimeball of a sound blathering that ridiculous catchphrase.
At first, he didn’t see anything. Two men carrying a large screen walked by, blocking his line of sight.
But as the pair moved out of the way, he realized his ears hadn’t deceived him.
Like a curtain revealing the worst grand prize ever, the douche himself, Vance Vibe, strode toward them with a leggy blonde in a micro-mini skirt and a tube top by his side. And for the second time in a handful of seconds, his jaw hit the ground. He not only recognized Vance—thanks to Rowen’s internet search the day of Raz and Libby’s housewarming party, he identified the scantily clad woman carrying a Tupperware container while teetering on sky-high heels as she hurried to keep up with Vance.
“It’s Bang Bang Barbie and Vance Viberenski,” Harper supplied. Her voice was calmly eerie as the singer and the porn star headed their way.
He studied his wife, surprised at her low-key reaction, when a realization hit and his heart leaped into his throat.
There was only one reason Vance would be here.
“Vance and Bang Bang Barbie must be the otherCelebrity Bake or Bustteam,” Harper remarked as if she’d read his mind.
It was a baking battle of the pop stars.
Jesus, what the hell kind of twist was this?
Had Mitzi known?
He didn’t have time to consider how the teams had been chosen or who had masterminded this matchup. The shock that had hit his system at the sound of the pop poser’s voice swiftly made way for a roiling burst of anger.
He’d disliked Vance Vibe before Harper had shared how he’d wronged her. Now, he absolutely despised the man. Straight-up fury pulsed through his veins. If they didn’t need those penis cookies so badly, he’d hurl the container at the lyrical thief.
With his cell pressed to his ear, Vance slung his arm around Bang Bang Barbie. A grin slithered across his face as he blabbered into his phone while a young man in a Bake or Bust T-shirt trailed behind the couple.
“Mr. Vibe, I’m sorry to interrupt your call, but you’re not supposed to interact with the other contestants until you’re on stage. Sir, if you’d come with me, we could get you settled,” the production assistant pleaded, but Vance didn’t give the man a second look. And just as the Bake or Bust kid slinked away, the pop fraud set his gaze on Harper.
The nerve of this poser.
He saw red as the need to protect Harper from this jerk consumed him.
Forget fury. A homicidal rush threatened to take over.
He hadn’t resorted to violence since his days in foster care placements. If faced with the choice of fight-or-flight, he was ready to throw down and send Vance Vibe packing with a pair of black eyes. He glanced at the tub of cookies in his hands. It took every ounce of self-control to refrain from cramming a dozen baked penises down this grinning d-bag’s throat.
“What a douche nozzle,” Harper remarked like she’d read his mind again, but her voice calmed him. It brought him back to himself. He wouldn’t allow the man to get under his skin.
“That’s right, bonbon. Here comes the King of the Douche Nozzles.” In a possessive caveman move to protect what was his, he inched toward her. Shoulder to shoulder with her he schooled his features. Hopefully, the quiet cardigan would keep working, and Harper wouldn’t say anything bonkers to give away her condition.
“Well, look at this. Landon Paige, we meet again,” Vance cooed, lowering his phone while attempting to play it cool. But a thin line of perspiration glimmering on the man’s top lip gave away his unease. He held up his cell phone. “I was on the phone with Red Rocks Unplugged management. They offered me a spot.”
What the hell?
“It’s not a pop concert,” he replied, watching the man closely. “Why would they offer you a spot?”
Vance shrugged, an aloof twitch of his shoulder. “I’m switching things up and working on a few instrumental versions of my hits.”
His hits?
