Chapter 12 #2
“You bet, Rudolph,” I say and boop her nose, leaving a dot of red icing.
I kiss her again and again, then break away, stopping myself from getting distracted.
Unlike the time she massaged me into a confession.
Today, my victory is inevitable. I’ve watched enough cooking competition TV shows to know how this works.
Who will crack under pressure? Being a photographer, having a steady hand is my forte.
Her mouth kicks up at the corners. “I’ll set a timer.”
The competitive spirit Kez keeps bringing out of me is bubbling up again. “I sure hope your sugar cookie game is better than that crooked roof you made,” I tease and stick my tongue out. “Because you’re going down.”
“You don’t stand a chance.” She finds my ear. “And when I’m finished, I’ll ruin you all over again.”
“Love to see you try.” I wet my lips, unable to ignore the jolts of pleasure coursing through me. I slide my hand over her right backside pants pocket and give it a little squeeze. “Your ass is mine, Sugarplum.”
Our eyes lock. If we keep going, this competition won’t be the only thing taking off.
“Don’t worry. I’m winning.” Kez snatches the bag of green icing, almost squeezing too hard. “Which one of your boudoir buddies taught you how to trash talk?”
“Rory,” I say immediately and tap the timer’s start button.
Ten minutes pass. We decorate in focused silence. I peep at her station. The candy cane shaped cookies have tiny paw-prints that look more like moose tracks than Ember’s. Gold glitter is everywhere, and the cookie in the corner has an obnoxious amount of sprinkles.
“What’s that one supposed to be?” I ask, pointing to a cookie topped with a combination of all the toppings.
She squints toward her tray. “My life’s work.”
“More like a cry for more sprinkles.” Before I move, she’s dumping another handful on top.
“We need a judge.” I pick up my phone. “I know a person.”
Her brows squish together. “We can’t use one of your friends to judge. That’s cheating. She’ll obviously choose yours.”
“Because mine are better. Look at that line work.” My voice probably isn’t as innocent as I want it to be. “Not because she magically knows which cookies are mine.”
“Right.” She closes the distance and pops a stray broken cookie into her mouth, then does the same to me.
Giggles erupt from my throat when Kez attacks my neck with soft kisses. Phone out, I snap a single one-handed photo of both trays and text Rory the image before Kez and I are making out.
Five minutes later, my phone rings. Rory’s video calling.
Upon answering, I put the phone on speaker.
Rory’s face fills the screen. Her camera-ready grin beams, perfect beach weather behind her.
She’s lying on a beach chair, wearing a yellow swimsuit and oversized sunglasses, a coconut with a tiny umbrella in hand.
“No, ma’am. Bah, humbug.” Rory scolds me before saying hello.
“You can’t ask me to make a life-altering decision from one blurry picture.
You’re a photographer, Charlotte. I need close ups.
Angles. Where’s my cookie glamour shots?
There’s a lot at stake here. Which cookie crumbles, you know what I’m saying? ”
I snort a laugh, looking forward to a tipsy Rory judging our competition. Remembering Kez’s lips on my neck when I took the photo, I add, “Sorry, I was distracted.”
“How’s the Twelve Sexy Nights Mission—”
My eyes go wide and she halts her words when I frantically wave her to stop talking.
Kez’s head snaps in my direction. “What’s Twelve Sexy—”
Suddenly, the room shifts into chaos. Ember launches herself onto the island. Like a shark attacking its prey, she chomps the stick of butter sitting too close to the edge and bolts as if she’s been training for this butter heist her entire life.
“Ember! Drop it.” Kez chases Ember. There are shuffling noises. A skidding sound rips through the cabin, and Kez crashes into the trash bin. Food scraps fly all over the floor. Meanwhile, Ember’s happy, tongue out, thinking they’re playing cops and robbers. Kez is definitely losing.
The chaos ends in a flash. Ember finally drops whatever’s left in her mouth, and I pick up trash off the floor before Ember discovers another bank to rob.
Kez holds up the remaining tooth-marked stick of butter, concern painting her face. She looks like her world just ended. “I’m calling Paige,” she mutters, already dialing. “I believe Ember will be fine, but I need to make sure.”
Kez paces the living room with the empty butter box in her hand and Paige on speaker. “Yes, unsalted,” she says. “It’s half gone. She didn’t eat the wrapper. I checked.”
“Who’s that?” Rory asks me. “Who’s yelling about butter in the background?”
I turn the camera slightly and pick up the last piece of trash from the floor. “That’s Kez.”
Rory’s face disappears momentarily when a server with a coconut bra hands her another drink. “No, the other voice. The hot annoyed one.”
“That’s her friend Paige,” I tell her and deliver the short version of all the commotion she just heard. “She used to be a veterinarian. Ember stole a butter stick, so Kez is calling to make sure she’ll be okay.”
Minutes later, Kez returns, a seemingly healthy Ember in one hand, her cellphone in the other. Her shoulders drop in relief. “Ember will be okay. I’ll keep a close eye on her tonight and tomorrow to be sure.”
We all take a much needed breath. I reach over and rub Kez’s back to comfort her. By the way she melts into my touch, I can tell she appreciates my support.
“While I got you,” Kez says to Paige, calmer now. “Do you have time to help judge a cookie decoration competition?”
“A what?” Paige asks.
“Charlotte’s trying to cheat by only having one of her friends judge. Time to even the odds.” She winks at me. After another careful inspection, Kez gently lowers Ember to the floor, then taps her screen to start a video call Paige never consented to.
Now, there’s two phones standing upright, each angled at the cookies. The holiday cookie competition is officially about to begin.
I quickly explain the rules, and five minutes into the judging, I can already tell this is headed nowhere fast. Rory’s ranting about structural integrity. Paige’s face screams she couldn’t care less and is trying to rush off the phone.
Rory narrows her eyes. “Wait. Why does your voice sound familiar?”
Paige tilts her head. “You too. Have we…?”
“Paige?” Rory blurts. “The Paige. This is rich.”
“Rory?” Paige says. “The same woman who ghosted me?”
Kez and I lock eyes. Uh oh.
Kez’s gaze ping-pongs between the two screens arguing at each other. “What’s happening right now?”
“They went on a date,” I whisper, my hands covering my mouth. “I’m pretty sure this is the same woman from the wallet incident.”
Kez looks as if she finally connected the dots. “Damn.”
Rory huffs in exasperation. “You left me stranded with a two hundred-dollar bill.”
“I told you I’d pay you back, and I apologized ten times already. Like I said, I forgot my wallet,” Paige says plainly. “Apparently, I dodged a bullet. You can’t even judge cookies without needing a caliper, let alone choose a normal restaurant for a first date.”
Rory gasps. “You know what? We’re doing another date when I return stateside. I know you won’t dish this amount of ‘masc sass’ to my face.”
“Oh, so you do want a second date?” Paige huffs a laugh. “Ghosting sure is a funny way of showing it.”
“I was processing!” Rory growls back.
Their voices double in volume, overlapping; neither of them is listening to a word the other says. The insults are so ridiculous, Kez and I chuckle.
Kez, standing beside me, leans closer and lowers her voice. “Should we interrupt them?”
I watch for a moment. Rory’s gesturing to the air, sipping a beverage inside the pineapple she’s holding while Paige rants about the restaurant’s Caesar salad dressing.
“No,” I finally decide. “We should let them finish this.” Whatever this is.
We quietly tilt the phones so they’re facing each other more directly. They barely notice.
Kez glances at me, a smile tugging at her mouth. “You want to go make out and watch a movie?”
Butterflies flutter in my belly at the way she looks at me.
There’s so much love in her eyes. She truly sees all of me.
Plus, we make great looking cookies. I intertwine our fingers and tug her gently toward the living room.
“So, who won the competition?” I ask as we exit the kitchen, passing Ember fast asleep in her bed, a red fuzzy sock between her paws.
Kez laughs. “We did.”