Chapter Eleven Rab
I was fairly certain my first interview had been a disaster.
And I suspected the producers knew that I was doing Bewitching Bake Off against my will.
“That Vaughn lad,” I said to Knox. He’d joined me in my trailer, allowed on set since he was provost of the town. “I don’t like him.”
“You barely met him,” Knox said, kicking his feet out in front of him and crossing his legs at his ankles.
“He was nosy.”
“That’s his job, mate. The viewers want to get to know you.”
“Why?” I asked, genuinely bewildered. “Aren’t they watching to see recipes and shite like that?”
“Och. Mate.” Knox slapped a hand to his forehead. “Please tell me you watched at least one episode of this show like I asked.”
I’d meant to but had been distracted by quietly obsessing over my run-in with Lyra at the Mabon festival.
Every time I tried to read or watch a show, my thoughts drifted off, and our almost kiss haunted me.
What would have happened if we’d kissed?
And why for a moment had I thought I’d seen longing in her eyes?
Because you’re deluded, lad, and that’s the way of it.
“I was busy,” I mumbled, and Knox sighed.
“The reason reality television is successful is that the viewers also get invested in the contestants and their real-life stories. You have to be relatable.”
I glowered at him. “I’m relatable.”
“Are you?” Knox gave me a disbelieving look.
“I am. I’m an accountant. What’s more relatable than that? Everyone’s heard of my job. Many people have worked with one before. There’s literally nothing interesting about my life.”
“And that doesn’t bother you at all?” Knox quirked an eyebrow at me.
“Why should it bother me? I like predictability. I don’t like to be surprised by things. I’m a man of routine. It’s what makes me a great accountant,” I pointed out, leaning forward to pick up my cup of coffee.
“And an incredibly boring reality show contestant.”
“Fine by me.” I shrugged, unbothered. “I didn’t even want to be on this damn show.”
“You could put a little bit of effort in,” Knox grumbled.
“It’s your fault. You picked me, remember?”
“I expected you to at least try.”
“I answered the questions, didn’t I?”
“With, like, two words.”
I shrugged. “Why was he asking all that stuff about my love life? You didn’t sign me up for a dating show, did you?”
“No, Rab. Bewitching Bake Off is not secretly moonlighting as a hidden dating show. At the very least you could pretend like you’re not being tortured.”
“This is torture. They put makeup on me!” I pointed to my face, where a belligerent woman had dusted powder across my nose before I’d pushed the brush away.
“It’s just to stop the shine under the big lights.
” Knox leaned forward. “Just promise me you’ll be nice to your partner.
Whomever they are, it’s likely they’ll be super excited to be on this show.
It might be nothing for you, but it could be a dream for someone else.
It wouldn’t be fair to ruin that with your grumpy attitude. ”
My shoulders slumped. Damn it, but he had a point. My job literally focused on how to help small business owners achieve their dreams. It was one of my favorite parts of my job when I was able to help move a business into the black. The last thing I ever wanted to do was shit on someone’s dream.
“Och, that’s a fair point.” I met Knox’s eyes. “I’ll do better. It’s just a bit of baking. I know how to work in a kitchen, even if it’s not my favorite. I promise to be an excellent sous chef.”
Knox groaned. “You don’t need a sous chef in baking.”
“Fine, assistant. Whatever. I’ll assist with a smile on my face. What could possibly go wrong?”
My words came back to me as I stood in the hallway two hours later, just off set.
Everyone had hyped this moment up, and though I didn’t really think it was a big deal, and this was just some baking competition, I’d promised Knox I would put my best foot forward.
Even so, I didn’t feel all that nervous.
If anything, I was just a bit bored. It seemed like a lot of the behind the scenes in filming reality shows involved sitting around and waiting.
At least something was about to happen now.
We were going to be the last team to be announced.
Then we would get some time to have a quick chat, get to know each other, and then our very first challenge would start.
From this point forward, I was told things would move fairly quickly, as they planned to have everything filmed and done in about ten days or so.
I don’t know why that length of time surprised me, as for some reason I’d expected it to carry on much longer.
But I could do anything for ten days. Even if it was paste a smile on my face and hold a whisk for my teammate.
Knox was just pleased that the filming would go fairly quickly.
He was in a particularly tricky spot. Not only did we have to lie to the tourists about what was getting filmed in Briarhaven since the show was broadcast only for magickals, but we also still had to explain away the constant darkness that shrouded the city.
At the moment, Knox was sticking close to the truth and telling tourists that a show was, indeed, being filmed at the bakery.
But he was lying and telling people it was just a documentary on the historical methods of using ancient grains in baked goods.
He deliberately made it sound as dry as dirt, in order to discourage anyone’s interest in learning more about the film trucks that had set up camp outside Mystic Munchies.
“And last but not least, we have our final team. Both contestants are originally from Briarhaven, and from what we’ve just learned… share a history. Come on out, team number four!”
I jerked as I realized that Vaughn was talking about me and then paused.
What did he mean, “share a history”? Before I could do anything else, the aggressive makeup lady gave my shoulder a shove, and I straightened and stepped out into the bakery, blinking as my eyes adjusted to the bright lights beaming in my face.
Lyra stepped out of the other door.
For the second time in my life, it felt like my heart stopped.
Her mouth dropped open, and she brought a hand to her lips.
I froze. I couldn’t say anything. Blood pounded in my ears. The world slowed, and though I knew Vaughn was saying something, all I could do was stare at Lyra, looking mouthwateringly sexy in a brilliant red dress.
“Rab?” Vaughn’s voice penetrated the fog that surrounded me, and I turned, blinking at him like he was speaking a foreign language. “Are you all right, lad?”
“Aye,” I said, clearing my throat when my voice rasped. I was most decidedly not “all right” as I tried to swallow past my suddenly dry throat. Sadness washed over me, as I realized I’d have to say goodbye to the nice life that I’d built for myself when I went to jail for killing Knox.
“Lyra?” Vaughn asked. Stepping forward, he hooked an arm through hers and looked adoringly down at her.
I stiffened. Why was he touching her in such a familiar way?
I certainly hoped she hadn’t fallen for the producer.
He gave me creepy vibes. “Are you ready to reconnect with your new teammate, Rab?”
“Um, yes, of course,” Lyra said, pasting a smile on her bonnie face. Only someone who knew her well would see the lines of tension that banded her eyes.
“Imagine our surprise when we learned that our last team has a romantic history?” Vaughn drawled, clearly delighted with the development.
All I could do was stare at the blinking red light on the camera and imagine the viewers at home eating this development up.
My pain was not for public consumption, and I truly had no idea how to respond to this situation.
“Who knows… maybe this will be the second time that Rab delivers the best Christmas ever for Lyra.”
My gaze swung to Lyra’s.
“She said that?” I shocked myself by asking. Vaughn, clearly pleased that I’d come back to life, seized on the moment.
“Och, she did, mate. Raved about what a brilliant job you did decorating the barn and making a sweet moment for her and her sisters.”
“I don’t know if ‘raved’ is the word I’d use,” Lyra grumbled as Vaughn drew her forward to stand next to me.
“That was your best Christmas memory?” I ignored Vaughn, my eyes drilling into Lyra’s.
When Vaughn had asked me about mine, I’d remembered that moment with Lyra but had refused to speak on it.
On her. Instead, I’d talked about Christmas from when I was just a wee lad, and my grandpa was still alive and had used his magick to make me float across the room like Superman.
“It’s just what came out.” Lyra shrugged, looking away.
“Well, you two, perhaps you can re-create some Christmas magic when we start the competition. I’m sure working together won’t cause things to heat up in the kitchen…
” Vaughn elbowed me and winked, and I turned my head slowly to glare at him.
Vaughn cleared his throat. “Right, so, Rabbie, I’m told your family owned a restaurant.
How would you say those skills might help you out today? ”
“They owned a chippy. Not a bakery. The only thing I learned is that I’m good at taking orders.”
“Sounds like a perfect partner to me,” Vaughn quipped. Lyra’s cheeks flushed, and she looked away.
I wanted to simultaneously hug Lyra and punch Vaughn, so I did neither, instead turning to stare sullenly into the camera.
“And Lyra? You said you’re a massive fan of the show and that you cook all the time. How do you feel things will go working alongside Rab?”
“So long as he actually does what he says he’ll do, I’m sure it will be fine,” Lyra said, steadfastly looking anywhere but at me.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I burst out. When had I ever failed her? If anything, she was the one who had lied to me.
“Oh boy, things are already starting to heat up in the kitchen, aren’t they? Let’s save that fire for the first challenge, shall we? It’s time to meet the other teams and get assigned to your stations. Stay tuned, everyone, as Bewitching Bake Off returns with the first challenge of the season.”
I waited until someone called, “Cut!” and then turned to Lyra.
“What—”
“Nope,” Vaughn said, stepping between us. “Save it for the cameras. This is reality TV gold.”
“I’ll not have my private life tromped out for public pleasure,” I said, whirling on Vaughn.
“Then you shouldn’t have signed up for a reality show,” Vaughn said, flipping pages on his clipboard as the scary makeup lady drew close, brushes in hand.
“But—”
Someone called for Vaughn’s attention, while another woman, also carrying a clipboard, came over and ushered me back toward the hallway. “Come on, then, let’s get you to your station. The first challenge is going to be filmed soon.”
“Wait—”
“There’s no time, sir.” The woman nudged my shoulder, and I cast a glance at Lyra, who was studiously ignoring me. How the hell was I supposed to film a challenge segment with her if we couldn’t even talk to each other?
Caught, I stumbled through the hallway, a thousand thoughts whirling in my brain. Yet somehow the one that rose to the top was that Lyra had told the show that the Christmas we spent in the barn together was her most favorite Christmas of all time. Why would she tell them that?
Unless she knew.
Maybe this was all her doing.
Fury filled me as I realized that I was probably just a pawn in her game. A publicity grab was what this was. Lyra probably wanted to grow her brand, and what better way than digging up old drama for reality television? Knox was her sister’s boyfriend, so he’d probably been in on the whole thing.
Instinctively, I knew that last thought was likely untrue.
Knox had always been a good friend to me, and I had no reason to think he would put me through something like that simply to grow Lyra’s YouTube channel.
But I was mad. I’d been mad ever since Lyra had returned to town.
And sometimes, when I was mad, logic didn’t always dictate the direction of my thoughts.
So if Lyra wanted a show, well, she was going to get one.