Chapter 26 The Smash-Cake Queen
THE SMASH-CAKE QUEEN
MABEL
I’d have been more surprised if Jonas had shown up. Or even Dax.
But Ronnie? The man who wanted me to be on my way after ruining his event with my song-and-dance routine? He might have talked down to me then, but this is my turf, and I’m going to defend it.
Although it looks like Corbin already has that covered from the way he squares his shoulders and crosses his arms, lasering a dark stare Ronnie’s way when the celebrity chef steps inside Afternoon Delight. “What can I do for you?”
It’s a don’t fuck with my woman voice.
It’s hot as hell. Unfair.
The British celebrity chef is flanked by two women I judge to be in their early twenties.
A pretty redhead with a pert nose and a pretty brunette with a freckled nose.
Joni has already waved goodbye and left, and now it’s just Corbin and me behind the counter with Ronnie and his entourage in front of it.
Ronnie strides toward us, a smug look on his face as he sizes me up. “Look what you’ve done. This is just really brilliant.”
Is he mocking me?
“Thank you,” I say, keeping my guard up.
He waves a hand from the redhead to the brunette.
“Tiffany and Brittany told me I simply had to make an appearance,” he says, gesturing from one to the other with obvious affection for them.
Tiffany’s the redhead, and she hugs Ronnie’s right arm. Brittany clutches the other. They both lift phones and snap pictures of themselves with him.
Wow, okay, so that’s what we’re dealing with.
“And we were right, sweetie,” Tiffany says.
“We had to make sure he came here,” Brittany tells me.
Are they groupies? Girlfriends? It’s hard to tell. But it doesn’t really matter. He’s the cake king, and I need to be polite even if he wasn’t entirely polite to me.
“I’m so glad you stopped by,” I say.
Tiffany gives a cutesy little wave to me. “We heard about it on the socials.”
Brittany clutches Ronnie tighter and chimes in, “It was all over.”
“The place to be,” Tiffany adds.
“So that’s why I’m here. I never want to let my friends down,” Ronnie says with a wink as he looks at them. Okay, so they’re his friends. Whatever that means.
“Then you should get a smash cake,” Corbin says in the most deadpan voice in the history of the world.
Ronnie blinks, then his gaze swings to the display case and the tray full of smashed, extra pieces of all sorts of cake. “You were serious about that?” Ronnie asks me.
Well, I was ad-libbing at the time, but Corbin insisted we put it on the menu, and we’ve sold a couple smash cakes today—smashed up bits of various cakes, served in a cup.
Corbin steps closer to me. “Very serious. My partner and I have been planning the smash cake for some time,” he says, defending the fuck out of me once again. It’s so sexy, I don’t even know what to think.
Mostly, I feel a little hot and bothered as he doubles down on the smash-cake story.
Ronnie arches a brow, clearly not quite buying it. “Really?”
“It’s been quite a popular offering. It’s a wonderful expression of bakery and cake artistry,” Corbin says, selling it to the judge, the jury…hell, to the bailiffs outside the courtroom.
Tiffany peers through the case while twirling a strand of red hair, bracelets jangling along the ivory skin of her arms, the same shade as her friend’s. She drops Ronnie’s arm and urges Brittany over.
“I want to try this, babes,” Brittany says, pointing to one of the smashed numbers.
“It looks so good,” Tiffany seconds, and I just watch the two of them talk like it’s a tennis match.
But when I pull my gaze away, Ronnie’s staring right at Corbin, eyes narrowed. “So you’d been planning it?”
“It’s our centerpiece,” he says, holding his ground. “We sold out. We had to make more.”
That’s not true, but it hardly matters. “Everyone loves it,” I add.
“Mabel gave you the preview at the fair,” Corbin says with a you lost sigh. “Bummer you weren’t able to jump on it, man.”
Ronnie blows out a breath. “Win some, lose some.”
“But you can try one here. You can even get toppings, like crumbled cookies, sprinkles, or bits of brownie. It’s sin in a cup,” I say, joining the egg Ronnie on action.
“I suppose we really ought to try it,” he says to the women he’s with.
“Yay,” they say in unison.
“We’ll share it with you,” the redhead adds.
“One smash cake, coming right up,” Corbin says.
As he scoops some cake bits into a small compostable cup, excitement rushes through me.
This moment is a vindication. This is a glow-up. This is a redemption story.
I’m living in a rom-com, and today has been the it-all-works-out scene montage, culminating with me telling my one-time nemesis to eat my smash cake.
As Corbin chats with Ronnie, Tiffany and Brittany stare at me conspiratorially.
“Can we totally take your picture?” Tiffany asks.
And look at that. I’m a social media darling already.
“Sure,” I say, then scurry out from behind the counter, dusting my hands on my apron.
They usher me between them. I flash back briefly to that moment with the woman at the gym, thinking how different this is.
They want pictures with me—the smash-cake queen, not the loser woman from the meme.
I say cheese as they hold out their phones and take pic after pic.
Tiffany pets my arm, like I’m a doll. “We just love you so much. We’re Romance Beach fans,” she adds offhandedly.
I go cold. Shit. My smile evaporates. Of course, their adoration is connected to that…incident.
Brittany must sense the shift because she grabs my arm.
“No, babes, it’s totally okay. We love you.
We’re so on your side. We think Dax is such a dick.
We were talking about it at pickleball, and we love both you and your pickleball outfit,” she says, plucking at the sleeve of my dress, while Tiffany pets the skirt.
“I mean, look, you play pickleball, we play pickleball,” Tiffany adds with a smile that seems real.
It’s not like we just became best friends or anything, but I feel a little better. “That’s great. We all love pickleball. Yay.”
“We love pretty ribbons too,” Tiffany puts in, twirling another strand of red hair. “You’re basically, like, our queen. You were dumped, but look what you did.”
I wince but try to hide it.
Brittany gives me a supportive smile. “Like, it sucked so much. But then look at you. You turned it around.”
I die a little inside. Is that how they see the whole situation?
Obviously, it is.
Brittany gives me a side-hug, her shiny brown hair soft against my shoulder. “You opened a whole bakery to try to be less sad,” she says. “That’s amazing. Isn’t it amazing, Ronnie?”
The Brit snaps his focus to the love fest, offering me a patronizing smile.
“It’s so wonderful to think about how you took that terrible, awful day at the romance fair and turned it into something better.
You were dumped on TV, and then you opened a bakery thanks to my cake contest and unwavering support,” he says, somehow taking credit.
But also…what? That doesn’t add up. I couldn’t have been dumped the day Dax talked about me on TV because the show was recorded in advance.
Before I can point out this flaw in the timeline, Corbin comes around the counter and wraps a strong, toned arm around my waist, beaming at me with something like adoration.
“I don’t know why she’d feel that way. We’re very happily together, and we have been since before the fair so you must have your timeline wrong.
We’ve been working on this bakery for a while.
We were even talking about it in the trailer that day.
” He squeezes my shoulder harder, holding me like a boyfriend would, urging me to play along. “Weren’t we, sweetheart?”
Sweetheart.
That day.
His eyes.
All the hearts and flutters.
This man is utterly convincing.
I’m so sold. “You did. You really saved the day, then. You’ve been doing that ever since,” I say, flashing a doe-eyed grin at him.
“I’d do anything for you,” he says, lifting a hand to dotingly stroke my jaw.
Impulsively, I inch closer.
A second later, maybe less, I gasp when Corbin drops his mouth to mine and kisses me in front of them. He’s sweet and tender, gently cupping my jawline in front of my nemesis and his two young friends. Declaring me his with a kiss that makes my stomach flip and my pulse skitter.
When he lets go, I’m swimming in endorphins. Corbin has the most sheepish look on his face. “So hard to resist,” he says to me, but maybe it’s for them.
I’m still woozy from that knee-weakening kiss when he turns back to Ronnie.
“My girlfriend and I have been planning this bakery for some time. In fact,” he says, laughing a little, “I couldn’t really stop from kissing her in your trailer too, Ronnie.
I hope you don’t mind. That’s why it took us a little while to get back out there.
But you understand, don’t you? Man to man? ”
Ronnie chuckles and says, “Right you are.”
Well, two can play at this fake-dating one-upmanship. I grab the ties of Corbin’s apron, and I tug him close to me again, taking another kiss.
A hot, prelude-type of kiss. One that has me wanting them all to go away so he can Dirty Dog me.
When we break it, Tiffany and Brittany clap and cheer, then spin to face each other.
“I totally know what we should do,” Tiffany says to Brittany.
The brunette grabs the redhead’s hands, and they nod as if they can read each other’s minds. Maybe they can.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Brittany asks her friend.
“I’m totally thinking the same thing you’re thinking,” Tiffany confirms.
They turn to me, and Brittany declares brightly, “We should all do a pickleball date.”
“We’re both in a league, and we’re the doubles champions,” Tiffany adds. “It would be so fun to play with our queen.”
Doubles champions? No fucking way.
I’m about to say thanks, but no thanks, when Corbin plants a kiss on my cheek. “My girlfriend and I would love to join you.”
Are you kidding me? He just signed me up for a fake date with a couple of pickleball champions?
I’m so screwed.
Once they’re gone and the door is locked, I advance toward Corbin. He stands proudly in front of the display case, looking pleased with his fake-dating pronouncement.
I’m more conflicted, half turned on and half annoyed. I point at him. “What were you thinking?”
He holds his hands out wide, his brow furrowed. “You’re mad at me?”
“What gave it away?”
He drags his hands through his hair. “Why are you pissed? You went along with that fake-dating thing.”
“Ronnie’s kind of powerful,” I fire back. “He’s a celebrity chef, and he came to our bakery. I want him to say nice things, if he says anything at all.”
“Right. And my point is, you played along when I said you were my girlfriend. It didn’t seem like you had a problem with that.”
I blow out a harsh breath. “That’s not what I’m mad at. I’ll be thrilled if they talk about our bakery. Going along with it made sense.” I poke the bib of his ALL THIS AND I CAN BAKE apron. “I’m pissed you signed me up to play pickleball with two pickleball champions. Why did you do that?”
He grits his teeth, blows out a breath. “Same reason I said we were together.”
“And what’s that reason?” Seriously, I’m dying to know.
He heaves a frustrated sigh. Huffs out through his nostrils.
“When they started that whole ridiculous bit that you were sad, it set me off. I needed them to know that this bakery isn’t about Romance Beach.
This bakery isn’t about the wildly inaccurate things your ex said on TV.
This bakery isn’t about you being upset.
They’re wrong, and they needed to know it, and I showed them the only way that I could at that moment. ”
Oh. I’m definitely more turned on than annoyed now. “What is this bakery about?”
He steps closer to me, inches away, so close I can catch the last remaining notes of his lake-and-campfire scent. “It’s about your dream. It’s about my dream. We started it,” he says, like he’s making a speech. No, a declaration. “And fuck anyone else who tries to tell our story.”
The frustration I felt earlier? It’s gone. The frustration over having to play pickleball champions? Who even cares?
“What’s our story?” I ask, anger now stripped from my tone. Only curiosity is left.
He swallows roughly. “It’s you challenging me to do something that I’ve wanted to do for years.
Something I’ve been fucking afraid of doing.
Something I’ve been putting off, thinking that I needed to wait.
It’s you making me realize that there’s no time like the present.
” He pauses, takes a soldiering breath. “It’s you finally getting to chase your dreams. And it’s us taking a chance together.
So when they said all that, I felt fucking protective of you, okay? ”
This vibration in my chest. This fluttering in my heart. This storm swirling around me. I lick my lips. “Then you’re going to have to teach me how to play a serious game of pickleball. One where we can win. Because that’s what I want for the fake date with Ronnie and his girlfriends.”
“With so much fucking pleasure,” Corbin says with a flirty, dirty grin.
Heat shimmers between us. Vulnerability does too. It’s crackling, pulsing in the air, though neither of us moves.
His eyes are fiery. His fists are clenched. His jaw is tight. He’s a man restrained but breaking apart.
I’ve never been that good at resisting him. I’ve gotten quite adept at winding him up though. That’s why I say the next thing. “Why do you feel protective of me, Corbin?”
He glances at the locked front door. He looks toward the back door that leads to the kitchen, away from the window, away from anyone walking by.
Then, in a low, ragged voice, he says, “Because sometimes I forget you’re not mine.”
I shudder everywhere. “I’m not,” I say, “but sometimes I wish I were.”
“Sometimes I don't know what to do about it. About the way I can’t stop wanting you.”
I grab his apron for the second time in an hour. “Show me. Show me how good you’d fuck me if I were yours.”