Page 60 of Sugar and Spice
She won’t.
Chrissy is still making a fuss, and I watch her with disgust. The two women continue to claim Anne tripped Chrissy on purpose, and they all but demand the clock be reset. In the producer’s usual way, Tammy ignores their arguments and shoos them back to their workstation, not-so-gently reminding them time is almost up.
The two snarl, but they hurry back, trying to salvage their final batch. I’m sure they would have loved Tammy to reset the timer—after all, the cookies they slid in the oven before the ordeal are probably done now, and that would have given them extra time for cooling and decorating.
Since we’re finished, I have the freedom to watch them several more minutes, and one thing becomes clear.
Someone might have intentionally caused the two women to collide, but it wasn’t Anne.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Well,it’s official. At some point, I had a horrible accident, and I slipped into a coma. That’s the only way to explain my life right now—I must be dreaming.
Instead of having a car pick us up at the lodge, which Mason said would be too conspicuous, Linus drives us to a deserted parking lot near town. A shiny black SUV waits, sitting silently in the snow.
“You’re sure this isn’t a drug deal,” I joke, because that’s the only way to deal with my nerves.
Mason flashes me an amused look. “Pretty sure.”
Riley’s barely said five sentences the whole time we’ve been in the truck, but that’s for the best. Every time she opens her mouth, she babbles. I think she’s more in shock than I am. If she didn’t know it would get us in all kinds of trouble, I’m pretty sure she’d be sneaking hundreds of pictures of Mason onto every social media platform imaginable.
The driver steps out of the unmarked SUV, right into the snow, and goes around the front of the car. We filter out of Linus’ truck, and I shoulder my duffel bag. Yvonne promised the things she acquired for me would be waiting in my hotel room, so my bag is light.
“You’re like Cinderella,” Riley whispers in my ear as she gives me a tight hug goodbye.
“Hardly.” I roll my eyes, but thisissort of a fairy tale. “Except for the wicked sister bit,” I tease. “That fits pretty well.”
She smacks my arm, but she’s grinning from ear to ear. Then she takes a deep, bolstering breath and turns to Mason. For the first time since she’s made his acquaintance, she gives him a stern look. “You will take excellent care of my sister, do you understand?”
Riley’s not messing around—she means it.
Mason smiles in that delicious, slow way of his. “You have my word.”
She gulps and nods once, looking a little wobbly. “Good.”
The driver opens the back-passenger door for me. I slide into a plush leather seat that cradles me as soon as I sit down.
In just a few moments, Mason joins me on the other side. I wave to Linus and Riley, and before I know it, we’re on I-70, making our way to Denver and the private jet. Five hours later, we land in New York.
I’m so nervous, I’m trembling. Mason’s manager, a slightly smarmy guy named Clark, flew with us, and he has rules in place for exiting the plane. Basically, because of the bake-off, we can’t be seen together. It wouldn’t necessarily hurt Mason any, but it would be a surefire way to get myself sent home.
Therefore, I’m going to exit with Mason’s assistant, Yvonne, and she’s going to take me to the hotel. Thankfully, even though she’s devastatingly beautiful, Yvonne seems nice, and she doesn’t give off the same creepy vibes as Mason’s manager.
She wears her hair up and out of her face, and her bangs are perfectly trimmed. She’s only in her late twenties, and if she didn’t seem so genuine, I’d be insanely jealous.
Ten minutes after we make our exit, Mason will make his—surrounded by a full security detail. There’s already clustersof girls waiting for him outside the airport—something Mason’s people fully expected and were prepared for.
Mason takes the seat beside me. “How are you doing?”
“Fine.”
“Liar.” He laughs. “You’re fidgeting so much, you look like you drank ten cups of coffee.”
The flight wasn’t exactly what I expected, to be honest. I imagined it to be just the two of us, but it makes sense that Mason haspeople—people who haven’t seen him in over a week. Apparently, with the way Clark hounded Mason the entire time, he was going through client withdrawals.
“I’ll come find you as soon as I get to the hotel,” Mason promises. “And if you’re up for it, I can talk the manager into letting us use the pool after hours.”
I lean closer to him. “You think you have that kind of pull, do you?”
