Page 75 of Perfectly Grumpy

Welcome to baking.

Me

Why do I feel like this is going to end in disaster?

Jaz

Don’t worry, make the cake look good and people will still eat it.

Tate

So basically, our best strategy is deception?

Sloan

Deception and butter. Lots of butter.

Tate

At what point does this become a health hazard?

Jaz

Just use your charm, Sheriff. That’s how Lauren gets you to do all this PR stuff, right?

Tate

You two are useless.

Jaz

Good luck, Sheriff. Don’t set anything on fire.

Sloan

Or do. It’d be great PR.

When we reach the kitchen, we find out we’re not only the last couple to arrive, but everyone has claimed the best aprons. I grab the last two left: matching pink floral, edged with ruffles.

Tate crosses his arms as he glares down at the ruffled apron like it’s a moral offense to humanity. “You’re making me wearthat?”

“It’ll be a good look on you,” I say, biting back a grin. “Although it painfully clashes with yourLord of the Ringssocks.” I nod toward the black socks peeking out with a gold ring pattern.

“I look like I should be hosting a tea party for stuffed animals.” He slides it over his head, tugging at the frilly hem with a deadpan expression. “Or a rejected contestant fromThe Great British Bake-Off.”

I snap a quick photo before he can stop me. “This is going on the team’s private chat.”

“You realize the second that photo hits the team chat, I’ll be forced to tell everyone about your little octopus impression in the ocean.”

My mouth falls open. “You wouldn’t dare.”

His lips curve up on one side. “Try me, Sunny.” Then he adjusts the apron with as much dignity as possible for a hockey player. “And just for the record, no more pictures of me in this visual assault of an apron. Or any apron, for that matter.”

Aunt Karen steps to the center of the group and, in her teacher’s voice, gives us the rules. “All ingredients are located on the center island. Everyone has to share, so don’tbe greedy. You have two hours to make the most scrumptious dessert possible, and may the best couple win.”

Chaos erupts as Bart and Abby launch themselves at the ingredients like they’re on some baking reality show. Flour, sugar, and baking powder disappear into their arms in seconds.

Tate watches them with a frown. “Rules state that’s for everyone to share,” he calls after them as they scurry to their corner of the kitchen.

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