Page 102 of How My Neighbour Stole Christmas
“Storee, please bring your fruitcake to the judging table,” Tanya says.
Muttering so only I can hear him, Cole says, “Don’t trip.” Then he tacks on, “Good luck, babe.”
Such an idiot.
For good measure, I walk over to Aunt Cindy in her wheelchair, give her a quick kiss, and then carry the fruitcake to Tanya.
I know it’s good. I know we have a pretty solid chance at first place. I don’t have the slightest bit of worry inside of me.
I set the plate in front of Tanya and then take a step back. “This is Great-Aunt Cindy’s recipe, with mashed potatoes and all.”
Tanya smiles. “And maybe a dash of romance? I saw you sneaking peeks at your man.”
I hold back the eye roll and nod. “Of course, made with a dash of romance.”
“Ooo, I love it.”
She cuts a piece for herself and examines the loaf, the slice, the density. She sniffs, she rotates the cake, and when she finally takes a bite, she lets it sit on her tongue for a few seconds before she starts chewing.
The only tell of her enjoying it being a nod and the fact that she went in for seconds. She did not go in for seconds on Jimmy’s. I don’t think she even wanted to try his.
After a few moments of chewing, then swallowing, she picks up her pen, marks a few things in a folder that she keeps hidden from view, and then smiles up at me.
“Nicely done, Storee.”
“Thank you,” I say and then take my fruitcake back to my station.
I can feel Cole’s eyes on me, but I don’t give him the time of day as pride flits through me.
“Cole, I’d love to taste your fruitcake now.”
Loveto taste it. Wow, favoritism much? I swear if he beats me on this one, I’m going to be livid.
Cole brings his fruitcake over to Tanya, and despite my mind tellingme to focus on anything but his ass, my eyes take in his tight rear end that’s encased in his nicely worn jeans.
“This is my take on the fruitcake. Made with maraschino cherries, not candied, as well as pineapple, dates, and walnuts.”
“Looks great,” Tanya practically coos. She slices into it. “Wow, what a great cut.”
What a great cut? Is this a piece of steak or a cake?
Seriously, Tanya. Sure, he’s a handsome man who apparently knows how to work the crowd to his advantage, but she can’t see through his tactics?
In disgust, I watch Tanya eat his fruitcake…taking three bites, Cole chatting her up the entire time. What happened to him being the grumpy dick? How is he so friendly all of a sudden? How is it he can be grunting out a response one day, and the next be the chattiest one in town?
After what feels like forever, Tanya thanks him, and he carries his fruitcake back to the table. I will be taste-testing that thing and comparing it to mine. I will have the final say in all of this, even if I don’t get to make the final decision.
Tanya goes through her notebook, tallying up points, assessing who she wants to assign places to while I wait with bated breath to see if we won.
“Whatever happens, I still want to go on that second date,” Cole says next to me like the jackass that he is. “Maybe you can make me some fruitcake.”
“I’m making you nothing.”
I fold my hands in front of me, trying to look like I’m the happiest person in the room despite the irritation pulsing through me.
“And here I thought we could have a cozy evening together.”
“I’m invoking the no-talking rule,” I say.
