Page 9 of Sugar and Spice (Glitter and Sparkle #3)

I yawn again, and this time Sadie catches me. “What time did you get back to your room?”

Rolling my head, trying to stretch my neck and wake up, I grimace. “Two-thirty.”

“In the morning?” she hisses, taken aback.

“Obviously.”

Her eyes narrow with speculation. “What were you doing all that time?”

My stomach rolls at the thought. Both Mason and I ended up eating far more than we should have, and I’m suffering today. We had way too much sugar, way too late at night, and I’ve been battling a headache all day.

I don’t envy Mason. The last thing I would want to do this afternoon is taste twelve different types of cookies.

“Scott!” Tammy calls across the room before I can answer Sadie. She’s wearing a headset and mic, and she looks like a woman on a mission. “You must change your shirt—no stripes. ”

It’s one of the rules. Apparently tight stripes will create what’s known as a moiré effect. On screen, it will look like the lines are moving. The dress code was clearly marked in our packets, and Tammy doesn’t look pleased.

Scott blinks at Tammy, confused, and then his wife Misty gives him a shove. “Hurry!” she says. “We go on soon!”

Tammy turns to the group, looking exasperated. “We’ve had a last-minute change. Mason has moved from judge to host, and Jonathan York flew in this morning to take his space. This doesn’t affect you in the slightest, but I wanted you to be made aware of it before we go on camera.”

One by one, people look my way, shooting me suspicious glances. Christy…Chrissy—one of the plastic blonds—raises her hand.

Tammy gives her a look that would send Sadie scurrying for cover and bites out, “Yes, Chrissy?”

Ah, it’s Chrissy.

“What happened to Frank?” the woman asks, referring to the previous host.

“It doesn’t concern you. All you need to know is that we have a different host and new judge.”

Chrissy flinches and nods.

Finished with her, Tammy turns to the door. When she sees Scott lingering, she demands, “Please tell me you didn’t wear that during the interviews.”

The guilty look on Scott’s face says it all.

She snaps at him to hurry up and then growls into her headset, “Who interviewed Scott, and how did they fail to notice he’s in stripes?” She pauses and then answers, “No, we have to completely refilm…”

Thankfully, she strides into the kitchen as she finishes her conversation. Waiting for the filming to begin is nerve-racking enough without her hovering over us, ready to pounce.

“She’s terrifying,” Sadie whispers, and I must agree. Tammy’s intense.

But the room might be worse. Everyone stares at me, speculating.

“All right, everyone!” an overly bright woman with blond hair says as she steps into the dining hall where we’re all waiting.

Paula’s another producer, not as senior as Tammy.

It’s like they’re playing good cop/bad cop because she’s all sunshine and smiles.

“Just like in elementary school, we’re going to form a single-file line.

When I call your name, please stand in front of me. ”

Jessica and Anne, the pretty cousins from Tennessee, go in first. They’re followed by Charlie and Susan. Two more pairs go, and then Paula calls for Sadie and me.

When Misty and Scott are called, Misty panics. “Tammy told him to change his shirt. He’s not back?—”

Scott runs into the room, rolling up the sleeves of a light-blue button-up shirt that looks miserable to bake in. Misty sags with relief, and then they take their places.

Soon we’re all in a row, and Paula continues with her instructions. “Here’s how this is going to work. You will walk into the kitchen,” she says and then points to her mouth, “and you’re all going to smile . We are happy to be here! This is exciting! You’re in HBN’s Christmas Cookie Bake-Off!”

Her excitement is nauseating.

“Jessica, there is a red X on the floor. Once you reach it, please stop—do not look at the X. Look at the judges. And smile .”

We nod, and Cole rolls his eyes at his brother. When he sees I caught him, he grins and raises his eyebrows, challenging me to tattle on him.

I laugh under my breath and turn back to Paula.

“Are we ready?” she chirps.

Without waiting to see if we are, she turns on her heel and leads us toward the door leading into the kitchen. Before she enters, she stands to the side and motions us forward, using her hands like an over-eager stewardess.

I take a deep breath right before I walk into the kitchen.

I paste a smile on my face that I believe looks genuine and focus on not tripping.

Ahead of us, Jessica stops and turns toward the judges.

We all follow suit, and I find myself staring at Mason.

Alexandra, Peter, and Jonathan are with him, but I can’t keep my eyes off the man whose room I was in until the wee hours of the morning.

There are seven cameras dispersed throughout the kitchen, and he smiles for them like the pro he is.

It’s a knee-weakening smile. The kind that hits you in the gut and steals your breath.

His eyes flicker over all of us, but they spark when they catch mine.

It makes me want to glance around to see if anyone else noticed that the room temperature just went up twenty degrees.

But they all appear to be oblivious.

“Cut!” Tammy claps, disgruntled. “Jessica! You looked at the X when you entered. You must not look down.”

Jessica’s cheeks turn pink. In her thick southern accent, she asks, “But how else am I supposed to know where the X is?”

Tammy rolls her eyes. “Look around. Do you see where you’re standing right now?”

Looking as if she’s not sure if it’s a trick question, Jessica slowly nods. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Then stop there. Again!”

We end up walking in five times. It’s insane. The second time, Eugene sneezed. The third, Catherine stumbled. The fourth, Jessica looked at that darn X again.

The fifth time is the charm, however, because Tammy allows us to get on with it.

No wonder we started at nine in the morning.

If we stop and start this many times, it will take all day to film the show.

Not to mention how long it will take the crew to do the edits and then put it up tonight so the viewers can vote.

Mason formally introduces us to the judges on camera, though we technically met all of them, except for Jonathan, for the first time last night.

As he finishes up the welcome and reminds us what’s at stake, I scan the ingredients piled on the table.

Twelve holiday baskets hold jars of molasses and all kinds of spices.

Mason steps forward, his eyes bright. He talks a bit more, making nice with the cameras, and then he motions toward the stand of baskets.

“You have two hours to create three different cookies that showcase the holiday flavors of molasses and ginger. Remember, the viewers will be judging you on your presentation, so make them festive.”

“And cut!” Tammy hollers. She yanks her headset’s mic down, getting it out of her face. “Perfect, Mason. Good job.”

Oh sure, he doesn’t have to do it again.

Tammy strides in front of us. “When we begin again, you will scramble to your baskets and then hurry to your workstation. We won’t be filming this a second time. If you trip and fall on your face, it will be on the show.”

“Do the baskets contain different ingredients?” Anne, Jessica’s cousin, asks.

“Not this time,” Tammy assures us, and then she steps aside. “But we want to keep it interesting, so hurry like the prize money depends on it.”

A cameraman moves right by my side, the lens practically in my face. I give him a sideways look.

“Just ignore me,” he says with an Australian accent.

“Yeah, okay.” I laugh and shake my head.

With several cameras trained on him, Mason tells us to collect our ingredients.

We make a mad dash to the table. As if we really are racing for something good, Chrissy shoulders past Sadie, just about knocking my partner on her rump.

Before Sadie falls, Cole grabs her arm, steadying her.

She gives him a grateful smile and glares at Chrissy.

I grab a basket, and we hurry back to our station.

“What’s in here?” Sadie asks, peering inside.

“Molasses, spices—nothing unusual.” I’m relieved to see several cookie cutters as well. At least we won’t have to fight the other teams for the ones on the shelf.

Sadie and I are prepared. We have several dozen recipes in our arsenal, and we knew we’d eventually find ourselves making ginger cookies.

“The sandwich cookies?” Sadie asks, facing me as she’s walking backward, heading toward the ingredient carts.

“Yep.” Wasting no time, I’m already measuring sugar into the mixing bowl. “And the gingerbread cutouts and the spicy gingersnaps.”

“On it.” Her blond ponytail swings as she whips around, off at a quick walk.

We’re not even five minutes in when Charlie calls for a medic. He must have nicked himself with a knife. Lindsay only shakes her head, not the slightest bit fazed that her partner is already bleeding.

There’s a little bickering between teams, but I do my best to block it out. Sadie returns and immediately hands me the butter so I can cream it with our sugar blend.

The ovens have already been pre-heated to 350 degrees, but we need 375 degrees for our ginger sandwich cookies.

Before I can remind Sadie, she’s already resetting the temperature.

After sharing a kitchen with her as much as we have in the last week, we’ve learned we work well together, despite the obvious reasons we shouldn’t.

Sadie is focused and quiet while she works, and I appreciate that. She moves through steps methodically, unlike some of the competitors who are running about their stations like chickens, and we are able to each focus on our own tasks.

I glance up from my dough and find she’s already started on the ganache for the sandwich cookies. She flashes me a hesitant smile and returns to her project.

We just might have a chance to win this thing.