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“That’s when I started helping in my family’s bakery,” Barbie replied through a weak grin.
“Those cookies alone would have persuaded me to offer you a job on the spot. You’re a talented baker, miss. And I know Mrs. Sweet would agree. Beautifully decorated sugar cookies were always her favorite. She’d spend hours piping intricate designs onto the cookies.”
That’s right! Mrs. Sweet was a sugar cookie decorating maven.
When she was a girl, Schuman’s bakery used to have tray after tray of ornately decorated cookies—cookies so gorgeous, it felt like a shame to eat them. And that was saying something, coming from someone like her, who’d happily tear into a box of baked goods like a raccoon hitting a fast-food restaurant dumpster.
Come to think of it, it had been a while since she’d seen the beautifully decorated cookies in the bakery.
Barbie’s expression brightened at Mr. Sweet’s kind words. Her lips tipped upward as she gifted the man with a grin, when Vance stormed over.
“We’re leaving, Barbie. Screw this challenge. They can do it without us,” he grumped, stuffing his phone into his pocket.
So much for his stupid catchphrasekeep fighting the good fight and vibe on. The guy wouldn’t know the first thing about fighting for anything that didn’t benefit him. He was and would always be a petty prick.
Barbie returned the handkerchief to Schuman. “You’re a sweet man, Mr. Sweet.” She giggled. “And Landon and Harper?”
“Yeah, Barbie?” Landon replied, patting the woman’s shoulder.
“You two make a great couple.” She nodded, then teetered off, clickity-clacking behind Vance.
“She’s a good kid. It’s a shame she’s with Vance. But you’d know what that’s like,” Mr. Sweet continued. “He was your beau for a while, if I remember correctly.”
She wasn’t expecting the baker to say that.
“I dated him when I was in college. How did you know that?”
“Your grandmother mentioned a Vance to me and Mrs. Sweet when she was in the shop years ago.”
“Did she?”
“She wasn’t fond of him.”
“Babs is a good judge of character.”
Mr. Sweet slid his gaze to Landon. “And what does Barbara Presley think of Landon?”
That was a great question, but she wasn’t about to cop to Babs not knowing a damn thing.
“Well…” she began, but applause broke out in the concert hall and saved her from answering.
“That’s your cue,” a production assistant whisper-shouted and waved them toward the stage.
Saved by the baking challenge.
Her husband took her hand and leaned toward her as they made their way toward the bright lights. “Don’t worry about your grandma. I slay with the grandmas. They’re crazy about me. They embroider my face on pillows.”
This man.
He was in rare form today.
A wide grin stretched across her face. Hand in hand, she and Landon emerged from the shadows and stepped into the spotlight.
“We heard there were some fireworks backstage,” Donna drawled with a twitch of a grin.
“Never a dull moment with theCelebrity Bake or Bust. Nevertheless, we’re excited to be here, right, Mrs. Presley-Paige?” Landon replied, the consummate performer. But he wasn’t yucking it up for the cameras. He looked down and met her gaze.
All she saw was…
