Page 59 of The Alpha and the Baker

It was distracting, to say the least. I tried my best to focus on the words on the page, but even when I narrowed my gaze to the scroll, I couldn’t help but feel a strong sense of satisfaction that there were nearly a dozen members of each pack all crowded around me and none of them were arguing.

No, they were all working together, looking over the contract with a furious intensity that made my heart swell with happiness.

I knew I’d laid it on pretty thick during the competition, but I needed to set the stage appropriately.

It was obvious to me that both Sal and Cas would much rather bury the hatchet than keep the needless tension going, but that it was such a matter-of-fact part of their life that subverting it seemed impossible.

So, I was just giving them the boost they needed.

And risking my entire life and identity for it. But whatever.

#WorthIt.

“Are we sure that’s all we wanna fix?” I asked after about a half-hour of all of us going over the contract several times.

“Oh! Have them add that we get to inspect their kitchenettes before they start baking, during, and right before presentation,” Keokuk said, leaning in between Penny and Polly. “I see them doing a lot o’ magic over there, and I don’t trust them one lick.”

“Good suggestion,” Cas said with a nod. “And also include that their ingredients all have to be from this realm and ones you would have access to as a human.”

“Oh yeah,” Sal agreed. “The last thing you want is them pulling in a cloud’s dream, or the tears of the last unicorn.”

That actually gave me pause, and I looked up from the paper. “Wait, they can do that?”

I was met by nearly a dozen simultaneous shrugs before Gammy McCallister answered with her signature half-shout. “They’re fairies. It’s what they do.”

Right. Good to know.

“Are we ready, then?”

“If you are,” Cas said, squeezing my shoulder, and I heard the subtext in his voice. If you can ever be ready for something like this.

And hoo boy, if I didn’t wholly agree. It was like I was standing at a cliff about to make a giant leap of faith, and I just had to hope there was something soft and pillowy waiting for me down below.

“I’m ready.” It was now or never.

“We have a few amendments we’d like to make to the contract,” I said as the fairy with the slicked-back hair approached me. “I don’t like how you interpreted some of my stipulations, and there is some double-speak in here that’s concerning.”

He looked disappointed, but the expression disappeared almost as quickly as it came. “Of course. By all means, what would you like us to amend?”

It wasn’t exactly fun or thrilling, but I went over every single point and watched as the text magically changed right in front of my eyes with a golden sparkle.

That took about another half hour, and by the time we were actually starting the most important event of my life, I’d already been awake for sixteen hours.

Not exactly my best, but there was a reason I’d chugged energy drinks throughout the day.

My liver and kidneys didn’t really like it, but they’d really dislike it if I ended up losing to the fairies and becoming one of their thralls.

Or whatever it is they did with those whose names and legacy they took.

After I read over the contract once again, there was nothing left to do but sign. I hesitated as the weight of the entire situation settled over me.

“Your pen,” the fairy said, making a motion with his hand. Out of nowhere, a long, golden quill appeared in his elegant fingers.

“Actually, I brought my own.”

Perhaps I was being overly paranoid, but one could really never be too careful with the fairies. Pulling my own writing utensil from my apron pocket, I rolled the paper all the way up to the end, then put a big, thick, X on the line labeled signature.

“I think you will find that will suffice,” I said, giving the fairy a beatific smile. He beamed back at me, but that smile dropped off his face like a hot potato once he saw the simple letter that I had written.

“Were you expecting something else?” I asked, batting my eyes at him.

“No,” he said far too quickly. “Not at all.”

“Now, about that inspection…”

As much as I really, really wanted to get on with things, I didn’t rush any of the shifters as they very thoroughly inspected every single inch of the fairies’ kitchenettes. When they were sure there was nothing amiss, it was well and truly time to begin.

Despite the nerves that shot through me, I reminded myself that everything was going exactly to plan.

“Cas,” I murmured as I made my way over to my kitchenette. “Would you mind grabbing that red box for me that I left in my van?”

“Huh? Oh sure.”

“Perfect. And don’t make a big deal of it.”

He shot me a curious look, but like the smart man he was, he didn’t say anything as he jogged off to my van.

As for me, I calmly began to put together the batter.

Already I could see the fairies doing incredibly complex things.

One looked like they were making a choux batter, one was making a sugar sculpture with magic and a heated pipe like she was blowing molten glass, and yet another had several bowls floating above his head while three different measuring cups poured different ingredients in.

It was very clear that even with all of my experience, I was punching well outside my weight class.

That was fine. None of that mattered. They could use all the magic, all the finery, and impossible ingredients I’d never heard of, and they still wouldn’t win.

Because in the end, baking was about the heart.

Or at least that was what I told myself.

“Here it is,” Cas said quietly as he trotted up to me, handing me the small red box.

“Thanks, babe,” I said, kissing his cheek lightly. I didn’t think I’d ever kissed a partner as much as I kissed my shifter boyfriend, but damn if it didn’t make me feel better about pretty much everything.

“Knock ’em dead,” he said with such a mix of worry and respect in his voice that it made my throat squeeze a little. I didn’t know what I had done to earn so much of his trust, but I was immensely grateful for it.

In response, I gave him the biggest, toothiest grin I could muster. “Oh, I plan to.”

Despite the absolute furor and magical displays going on around me, I managed to shut it out and focus solely on my entry.

It wasn’t anything extravagant—no multi-layered cake or another croquembouche.

No, it was just a red velvet cupcake with cream cheese frosting.

Rich, moist, and simple, but with a depth of flavor that just couldn’t be beat.

Occasionally, I surfaced out of my haze of concentration long enough to feel many eyes on me, but I just held myself to ignore them.

Pretty much every shifter was either staring at me or glaring at the fairies, but that was fine.

They could do what they wanted. For now, my only worry was whatever was contained within my kitchenette.

If my entire future was depending on my baking skills, then I was going to make damn sure I gave it a hundred-and-ten percent.

I fell into a pattern that was as soothing to me as being rocked to sleep. Mix the batter. Preheat the oven. Grease the pan. Bake the batter. There were more steps than that, but they were so second-nature that often I didn’t realize I was doing them until they were already done.

It was nice to know that even in what was possibly the most stressful and important test of my life, baking was still my safe place.

While I was in the kitchen, I could think of my mother.

I could think of my victories, and I could think of my losses.

But no matter what I thought, everything that happened in my mind was my own.

The fairies had absolutely no power there.

And I was going to keep it that way.

When I did finally look up once my cupcakes were safely in the oven and I was dutifully mixing the icing, I saw that the fairies were keeping very true to their legends.

The pseudo glassblowing fairy had created a sculpture taller than me that looked like it was made out of pure diamonds, with delicate drops of what looked like dew that I knew had to be something delicious.

Another had somehow already pulled out three round cakes they were about to stack on top of each other with scrumptious filling and a truly decadent decoration.

On and on it went. A crème br?lée the size of my head with a cornucopia of candied fruits on it, and that the ramekin made out of woven chocolate.

A fondue fountain taller than my arm was long that spurted out iridescent jets of water that rained down onto several artfully stacked platters, each with their own mirrored pies atop them. The list went on and on.

Yet still, I made my frosting. And when my cupcakes were done in the oven, I took them out to cool, and sat to watch the fairies do their thing.

It really was miraculous, all that they could do.

I’d read a lot about them, and yet I’d had no idea just how far their kitchen magic could go.

Man, if I had half of their abilities, I was sure that my bakery would already be a multi-million dollar company.

Except I wasn’t a fairy. I was just a human. An immigrant. An orphan.

Albeit a human, immigrant, orphan who had found her family after being alone for so long.

And I wasn’t about to lose them.

Naturally, I was one of the first to bring my dessert to the cleared competitor’s table. It was strange to put it right in the first position after spending all that time being eighth in line, but it was a welcome change. It worked best for me to go first, so first I would be.