Page 20 of Holly Jolly Cake Fight
He started to shut her down, but Belle cackled out, “They wouldn’t eat Harper’s mess, either!”
Harper went beet red. Belle had a point — these judges had not appreciated Harper’s healthy vegan cookies — but jeez, now wasn’t the time for it.
Breathing exercises were no longer helping Harper. The aggressive inhales had her nose flaring like a bull, and she was exhaling so hard Laurin worried she would faint. He put his plate down so his hands would be free to restrain Harper if she attacked Belle, but Zara dragged Harper out of the pavilion before it escalated any further.
“What does it even matter?” Greg moaned, either unaware of the ladies’ drama or refusing to let the spotlight stray for even a second. “At least Harper’s were edible.”
His teammate, Mark, finally attempted to help as Laurin finished up at the buffet. “They like you. Even if this is the end of the season for you, they’ll bring you back.”
“I nearly killed a judge!” Greg hissed.
“It was just plastic glitter,” Mark reminded him. While filming had paused for Lacey to swig some mouthwash, the crew in the production booth had gone through the footage and found that Greg had mistaken a decorative jar of craft glitter for the sugar-based variety.
“You’re right,” Greg admitted. “I’ll be okay.”
With the reasonable tone the man was rocking, Laurin figured this was a good time to escape. Candace had helped him, and he needed to thank her. With cookies. On camera, she had an enticingly curvaceous figure, but in real life? The girl was skin and bone.
Except for those thighs.
Greg sighed and sat up, encouraging himself with, “At least they won’t be able to air what Lacey said.”
Candace chose that moment to turn around, flashing a seriously schoolgirl pin-up pose with one knee thrown over the other and her thigh exposed to a scant inch of peach above the lace stocking. She laughed sharply and said, “Are you kidding? They’ll bleep outassholeand run it forever. And believe me when I say the viewers won’t stop debating about which part of the Michelin man your cookies taste like.”
Okay, never mind. Candace didn’t deserve cookies.
She deserved a spanking.
Fuck, that was not helping.
Belle, sweet, innocent Grandma Belle, who Laurin had always thought was above reproach until he’d finally met her in person, waggled her brow at Candace. “You mean like the hummer they never showed you giving the last producer?”
Unlike Harper, Candace didn’t go red. No, all color drained from her face. She held herself still with a stiff back for all of five seconds before her expression crumbled. She attempted to keep her nose up in the air as she crossed her arms over her chest and huffed off with a prim march out the back door. But from Laurin’s angle, he could see her bolt away, off into the woods.
He didn’t allow himself to think twice before taking off after her. God knew the trouble she’d find herself in out there.
The sound of someone following close behind Candace was the worst sort of nightmare. She may not have been able to handle such nasty comments in the most mature manner, but she had enough self-respect to run off and embarrass herself in private. The fact that she couldn’t run off, that someone was following her, made this whole thing a catastrophe.
She’d only intended to run a few yards into the woods, figuring there was enough going on in the campground to muffle any outbursts, but tears wicked back to her hairline, and she refused to let anyone see those. Better to run until they dried up and blame the blotchy skin on the exertion.
Woods were a tricky thing, though. The moment her feet left the worn-in path, the brambles crowded around her. She could only go so far before the ground itself became unreliable. At the first major dip, where she thought she knew how thick the leaf coverage was, only to find it considerably deeper and twisting her ankle, she gave up. She made quick work of the remaining tears and then spun around to face her follower, unsurprised to find it was Laurin.
“Why can’t you leave me alone?” she hissed at him.
He closed the distance between them with ease, hopping over a fallen tree trunk she’d had to run around and easily accommodating the ditch she’d practically sprained her ankle in. He wasn’t even winded when he stopped. “These woods aren’t safe,” he said. “I didn’t want you getting lost . . . or hurt.”
Candace stepped up to him, not caring that he had her by at least sixty pounds and nearly a foot. “What, you think I can’t take care of myself out here? You think I’m some rich daddy’s girl who doesn’t know how to survive when I step off Rodeo Drive?”
“No, ma’am, but you’re upset, and it’s easy to slip up out here when you’re distracted.”
“Don’t youma’amme,” Candace snapped, loathing his patronizing tone. Southerners thought they could say anything they wanted when they laid that accent on thick as molasses, but Candace saw right through it. She saw right to his game, and it made her sick. “Did Mike send you out here?”
“Director Mike?” He tilted his head to the side, but Candace wasn’t going to fall for his big, brown eyes or his thick eyelashes or his chiseled cheekbones, either. “Why would he—?”
“Was it your idea, then?” She jabbed her finger right into her chest. “Yeah, that’s it. All this talk about the-the-the stuff everyone thinks I did got you feeling frisky, right?”
“Candace, please. That’s—”
“It did!” she screeched before he had the opportunity to lie to her. A gentleman would have backed away from her, let her have her space when she needed it the most. He would have kept his eyes low. Not Laurin, though. He locked himself into place whilehis eyes darted around her face and his lips tilted in a playful smirk. “If you thought I’d just get on my knees and-and—!”
