Page 14 of Sugar and Spice (Glitter and Sparkle #3)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

It’s Wednesday, our mid-week free day. I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling. Starting at seven o’clock last night, not long after the show aired, my phone started going crazy. A few minutes ago, I got my first text of the day. I assume they’ll just keep pouring in now.

Clasping the sheets, I roll toward the clock on the nightstand. Eight in the morning.

The train wreck of an interview went live last night with the episode. I have no idea how much they tampered with it because I refused to watch.

It must be bad though, judging from the texts.

My mother has tried to call me three times, but she’s the last person I want to talk to about it. I hadn’t planned to tell her I transferred home for Brandon. Ever.

Sadie and I barely exchanged two words after yesterday’s judging round. It’s just too uncomfortable.

I’m not sure if it’s a blessing or a curse that the judges seemed to like our cookies. With everything that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours, I’m not sure I want to stay.

A soft knock sounds at the door. I swivel my head, debating whether I’m going to ignore it. When it sounds again, I toss the covers aside with a sigh and walk across the cold, wooden floor. I look out the peephole and bite my bottom lip.

I almost tiptoe back to bed and pretend to be asleep. I contemplate it for a full ten seconds, and then I give in and open the door.

Brandon’s on the other side, arms crossed, with a cryptic expression on his face. His eyes rove over me, and he frowns as he sets his hands on my shoulders. “You look awful.”

“Good to see you too.”

“Can I come in?”

“No,” I say, but I step to the side, making room.

He gives me a wry smile, and I close the door behind him.

“What are you doing here?” I wrap my arms around myself, feeling exhausted and vulnerable.

He shoves his hands in his pockets and turns about the room as if taking it in. “I don’t know.”

“We talked about this?—”

“I’m here as a friend, Harper.” He turns to face me, his blue eyes piercing in their directness.

“You know very well, no matter what, I would be here for you after yesterday’s disaster.

” He steps toward me, keeping his hands safely tucked away.

“You know I would have gotten in the car and drove all the way from Montana last night if I hadn’t been here already. ”

Once I trust myself to talk, I ask him, “Have you seen it? Did you watch?”

He studies me for several seconds, and then he nods.

“How bad?”

Brandon raises his eyebrows, shrugging. “The interview was…it was a little intense. But all people can talk about is the moment you had with Mason in the kitchen. Once again, you’re all over YouTube.”

He says it flippantly, but there’s a twinge of hurt in his voice.

“Moment?”

Rolling his shoulders, he averts his eyes to the black television. “After Christy, Chrissy—whatever her name is—bumped into you and Mason kept you from falling. The camera caught it all, even zoomed in on your faces. Everyone’s making a big deal out of it.”

“Brandon—”

He holds up a hand. “Don’t…it’s fine. I’ve made such a mess of everything, I have no room to talk.”

I’m about to answer when there’s another knock at the door—this one insistent.

“Harper!” Paula hollers. “Tammy wants you in her office in thirty minutes.”

I crack the door open, careful to keep Brandon out of view. “It’s our day off.”

Paula gives me a sympathetic look. “Thirty minutes.”

Rolling my eyes, I close the door. “I’ve gotta?—”

“I heard.”

He’s already walking toward the door when there’s another knock. When did I get so popular?

“Harper?” Sadie’s soft voice calls.

Brandon freezes. We stare at each other, two deer caught in the headlights.

“Bathroom!” I mouth and jerk my head toward the door to the right.

He darts inside, keeping the light off. Once he’s out of sight, I open the door. Sadie stands in the hall. Her hair is disheveled, yesterday’s mascara is smudged down her cheeks, and she’s wrapped in a flannel robe that looks like it belongs to an eighty-year-old woman.

“Can I come in for a minute?” she asks.

“Sure,” I say, holding the door open and trying not to shoot a guilty glance into the bathroom.

Sadie toys with her robe’s belt, and she won’t meet my eyes. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you had feelings for Brandon. He said…” She sniffs like she’s going to cry. “He said that you didn’t. I knew going into all this you two had history…but…”

I nod, because what the heck do you say to that?

She looks up. “I really like him, Harper. I thought all night about it. I was going to step aside, let the two of you work things out. But I…I think he might care for me too. We’re in a good place, you know? And I feel awful about all this, but I?—”

Tears roll down her cheeks, and she scrubs them away with the back of her hand.

“I’m just really sorry we hurt you,” she finishes.

She still isn’t aware that I know her relationship with Brandon is a charade, but her words…those are coming from a raw place. She means them. She’s not talking about her and Brandon’s fake relationship. She’s talking about one she’s imagining for the future.

She really believes she has a shot.

And if I had stayed in Texas, where I apparently belonged, she probably would have. Good grief—after hearing that, maybe she does anyway. What could Brandon possibly be thinking, standing there in the dark bathroom, listening to Sadie pour her heart out?

“Me too,” I say, and I mean it. I am so truly, deeply sorry that I’ve caused her this turmoil.

“Are we…are we okay?” she asks, blinking at me.

After a moment, I nod.

“Okay.” She hugs herself and sniffles one more time. “I’m going to…”

She points to the door. After another few awkward seconds, she lets herself out.

Once the door clicks behind her, Brandon cautiously exits the bathroom. He rubs his chest, looking almost ashen. “We’re not even dating, and I feel like I’m cheating on her,” he whispers, not daring to speak any louder.

I nod, knowing exactly what he means.

We stand here, staring at the floor. The minutes are ticking away. I only have twenty left before I have to meet Tammy downstairs.

“You need to get ready,” he says, rubbing both his hands over his face. “I’ll…”

Without finishing that thought, he lets himself out the door.

I turn the corner to Tammy’s office, hurrying because I’m one minute late, and find Mason strolling through the hall, holding two disposable coffee cups.

He eyes my hastily pulled together outfit and grins, offering me one of the cups. “Morning.”

I stare at it. “Is that for me?”

Mason gives the cup a teeny jiggle. “No, I was hoping you could hold it for me until I was done with my first.”

Shaking my head and laughing for the first time today, I accept the cup. We stand just outside Tammy’s door, and I take the first sip and sigh. “It’s been the worst morning.”

He glances at the door. “Hold on tight, because I doubt it’s going to get better.”

“You were summoned as well?” I ask.

“Yep.”

I take another fortifying sip of sweet, sweet caffeine, and then I knock. Tammy’s assistant opens the door. I don’t know the woman’s name, but she always looks slightly harried. Of course she does—she works for Tammy.

“Have a seat,” Tammy says instead of a greeting. She shuffles a stack of papers, not even bothering to look up at us. All the producers are here—Tammy, Paula, and a guy named Raoul. This is the first time I’ve seen him that he hasn’t been on the phone.

Like a gentleman, Mason pulls out my chair and then sits in the one to my right.

“Views were at an all-time high last night,” Tammy jumps right in without a preamble. “And our engagement rates were through the roof. We’ve never had this many viewers call in to vote.”

She looks up, almost as if she expects us to say something. Mason’s next to me, lounging in the chair like he owns it, taking in the scene with sharp eyes.

“Okay…?” I say when it becomes clear Mason isn’t going to speak.

“I’m going to be blunt, Harper,” Tammy says, setting her hands on the table.

“Mason is here because the show was in trouble, and we made a deal with his agent. The publicity is good for his solo career, and it gives the bake-off a much-needed boost. We were losing viewers. Now we have more than triple what we had last year at this episode.”

I nod. Mason’s good for the show—no kidding.

“Your possible romance has lit a fire in America that we never anticipated. ‘Bake-off Romance’ was the number one trending search yesterday on Twitter, Facebook, and YouTube.”

I blink at her and glance at Mason. He doesn’t seem surprised, so apparently, someone already broke the news to him.

“People like the two of you—and they really like you together . We’re going to play this up, but we have to be careful how we go about it. Some of the contestants are already making noise about the two of you?—”

“But Mason’s not even a judge!” I interrupt.

“So you must keep things subtle,” she continues. “On camera, we want our viewers to see glances that last a few moments too long, maybe a few whispered conversations. Sweet exchanges during interviews?—”

“Speaking of interviews,” I practically growl.

Before I can finish my thought, Tammy goes on, completely ignoring me, “But I want limited interaction between the two of you when the camera isn’t rolling. The less the other teams see you together, the better.”

I clench my hand on my coffee cup. “You want us to fake a romance so your ratings will go up?”

Tammy raises a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “Are you faking it, Harper?”

I feel my cheeks flush, and I look down. My life is in an unstable place right now.

“However, please understand, to ensure the integrity of the competition, we will not guarantee your spot,” Tammy finishes. Judging from her tone, I believe we’re reaching the end of this lovely meeting. “And our judges will not be made aware of this conversation.”

I almost laugh when she says “integrity.” I’ve always known reality shows are manipulated, but a cookie competition? It seems wrong.

Tammy stands, showing she’s finished with us. None of the others spoke even once. They sat there like statuesque guards, ensuring we behaved.

“Where did you come up with the interview questions?” I demand as I rise.

“Christy overheard you speaking with Mason,” Tammy says absently, more concerned with a missing piece of paper than me. “And she thought she should bring it to our attention. Perfect timing too—the viewers love a knight in shining armor coming to the aid of a damsel in distress.”

Christy. It doesn’t surprise me. Who else, besides maybe her wicked partner, would lurk nearby, eavesdropping on a private conversation.

Tammy finds the paper and looks up, smiling. “And the fact that you and Sadie are so forgiving—well, the viewers are simply eating it up.”

I feel like they’ve violated some of my personal rights, but I don’t know what I can do about it. Besides, the damage is done.

“Enjoy your day off,” Paula says from her seat, speaking for the first time. She offers us a weak smile as we turn to leave.

Frowning, I head to the door.

Mason shuts it behind us, looking grim. “I’m sorry, Harper. I had no idea?—”

“It’s not your fault.” I rub my temples. A headache looms, and I can tell it’s going to be a bad one.

After I say goodbye, I head to my room. On the way, I pass Chrissy and Christy.

They look immaculate, with their blown-out hair, carefully applied makeup, and designer clothing.

Christy wrinkles her nose at my outfit. “Harper, darling. You look like you didn’t get a wink of sleep.”

“Poor thing,” Chrissy coos. “Did we just see you coming from Tammy’s office? With how horrible you look, I can only imagine the worst. I hope everything is all right.”

Because murder is generally frowned upon, I give them a smile as fake as their own. “No, everything’s great. I’m so excited about Thursday’s competition.”

Their smiles falter. Chrissy finds her tongue first. “That’s wonderful! I’ve heard we can use the kitchens in our off time.” She leans close as if she’s going to tell me a secret. “You might want to take some time today to work on your piping. Your last cookies looked a little wobbly.”

“That’s true.” Then I can’t resist. “But I suppose you could say I’ve always preferred a more natural style. If you go overboard, the cookies become fake and unappetizing, and then no one likes them.”

With that, I give them my best perky smile and walk away.