CHAPTER SEVEN
“Honey, did you remember the blue bins with the sheet pans?” asked Sara.
“Babe, we’ve not forgotten anything and even if we did, we’re literally an hour to the city. We’ll be fine. Now stop panicking or I’m going to have to take you out back and spank you,” he said pulling her into his arms.
“Later. I’ll save some of the chocolate sauce for you,” she grinned. She tried to pull away and Wilson pulled her back, laying a passionate, deep kiss on her. His big hands slowly moved over her ass and she moaned against him.
“Don’t tease me with shit like that. We will be late.” She smiled at him, touching his rough cheek.
“I love you so much,” she grinned. “I don’t know how I go so lucky to have you as my husband, father to my children, but I thank God every day.” He stared down into those gorgeous eyes that he looked down at every night of their life together.
“Don’t ever mistake this,” he said softly, touching her jawline.
“I’m the one who’s lucky as fuck to have you, Paige, and Julia.
They gave us two amazing strong sons-in-law, and grandchildren.
Do me a favor, babe? Just stay close to one of us while we’re there.
We’ll be checking for any cameras that shouldn’t be there and we’ll make sure no one comes into your kitchen areas. ”
“I know you will,” she smiled. “It’s why I’m not worried.”
It took the team nearly four hours to get everything set up exactly as they wanted it. Ingredients were grouped by recipe, then by order of addition to the recipe, and clearly marked with the Crescent City Bakery emblem.
The team had rented the entire top floor of the Monteleone Hotel, one of the oldest and most prestigious in the city. They ate dinner together, trying to release some stress by not talking about the food. Except the food was so good, they couldn’t help but talk about it.
Fortunately, the chef invited them back to see his kitchens and the women obediently followed.
“I never realized how stressful this could be,” said Tango. “Any word from the security team?”
“No additional cameras, but there were some recording devices beneath certain tables. Not ours,” said Luke.
“That seems odd,” frowned RJ. “Why would someone want to record anything? The recipes have to be submitted in full to the judges.”
“I don’t know but we’ll definitely be watching,” said Wilson.
The doors to the competition opened at 0900 and the entire team was standing there, ready and waiting. The women wore Crescent City Bakery t-shirts and they all looked positively beautiful.
“Why am I so nervous about this?” asked Sara.
“Because you’re a perfectionist,” smiled Wilson. “How are the others doing?”
“Janie and Celia are working on the cakes right now. Taylor is handling the cookies. Dylan and Casey are handling everything else.”
“Everything else? What’s left?” laughed Wilson.
“Brownies, pies, turnovers, ice creams. Everything!” she exclaimed in excitement.
“Babe, calm down. You’re all the best chefs, the best bakers in the world. You’ve got this.”
“Wilson, you don’t understand. These people, all these chefs and bakers are the best in the world. The best of France, Switzerland, Germany. Over there, the best in New York, Los Angeles, Miami. That area, all South America. They’re all the best bakers in the world.
“This competition could elevate the bakery and café to something so big we may not be able to contain it.” Wilson frowned at that. He wondered if the others were aware that this might bring more attention to them than they wanted.
“I see your wheels spinning. If it does, we’re going to move the café and bakery to a different location. At least the public one. We’ll keep our little place just for us and our visitors at the hospital.” He smiled down at her, kissing her.
“I can always count on you knowing exactly what I’m thinking.”
“Sara!” yelled Dylan.
“Gotta go babe. Wish us luck,” she said kissing once more.
Wilson stared at his beautiful wife as she raced to the table where Dylan was working. He smiled at them, shaking his head at their excitement and seriousness. As he started to move away to take his seat in the stands again, he heard a scream and something crashing to the floor.
Turning, he saw what the commotion was all about. A man lay in his own cake, face down, blood draining from his body.
“Well, fuck me.” Wilson immediately spoke into his comms device, calling the additional security team members closer to the site.
“Boys? We’ve got a problem. One baker down, in a pool of blood.”
“Headed that way,” said Tailor. “I guess food tasting is out of the question.”