“Morticia says you make baking subscription boxes,” Penny said excitedly.
“Yes. I need to send another batch out tonight actually.” I gestured to my tarts. “Since I'm already in the mood, I may make tarts, along with cookies.”
“Can we do a special on your Taste My Muffin baking boxes?” Penny asked. I'd heard Morticia talk about the bubbly redhead but never met her. And what I'd heard had made me slightly jealous. Penny seemed like she had her shit together—fun creative job, rich, handsome boyfriend, clothes that were free of batter and flour.
“Sure!” I replied.
“I've seen your Instagram. It's so much fun!”
“You mean raunchy,” Morticia said.
“Guys like a little excitement,” Penny said, lightly nudging me with her hip. “Hey, I'm not judging! I have my Queen of Tarts baking brand. My videos attracted all sorts of random guys!”
“I'm surprised Garrett hasn't made you give it up,” Morticia said.
“I think he's pretending that if he ignores it, it will go away. Not that I have time to do videos for my channel anyway. Though I did want to be on this season ofThe Great Christmas Bake-Off,” she said wistfully.
“Seems like you got the better end of the deal,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound jealous.
“To be honest,” Penny said, “I'm actually not that great a baker. You're doing very fancy stuff here.”
“It's just a tart.”
“Hardly! I don't think I could ever make my chocolate mousse so creamy!” Penny said, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “So, can you do the subscription baking boxes tonight? I need content to feed the digital beast.”
“Sure!” I said. Then I chewed on my lip. “So are we really living in Owen’s penthouse?”
“Oh my God! Morticia told me what happened. I'm so sorry about that. Belle, his sister, told us we could use his condo since it's bigger and there will be better camera angles. I guess he never got the memo.”
I thought about Owen shirtless in the bedroom, his intense blue eyes, his chiseled, muscular body.
“He's grouchy and set in his ways. Don't mind him,” Penny assured me.
“But where is he staying if we're in his house?” I asked in concern.
“He has another condo,” Penny assured me. “It's much smaller, but he'll live.”
8
Owen
It was nonstop baking when I went back down to the studio for the final judging later that afternoon. Holly was the first contestant to present. Based on my conversation with her earlier, I was expecting a simple chocolate tart. That was not what was set before me.
“In the spirit of Christmas and making people shimmy—” she did that motion that made her tits jiggle again “—I've prepared Christmas tarts three ways,” she said as I carefully cut each of the perfect round little tarts in half. The red one looked like it would be less sweet. The pomegranate glaze was sticky and slightly tart, and the vanilla custard stuck to my tongue. I swallowed. I needed a glass of water, or better yet, some whisky.
“It's fine,” I said, pushing the plate away.
“Fine?” Holly said. “Well, I suppose that's the best I get from the Christmas-hating grinch.”
No one talked to me like that. Who did Holly think she was?
“I love the presentation on these,” Anu gushed. As a pastry chef herself, I was sure she had more relevant comments to make than anything I could come up with.
“I love how instead of doing several radically different tart flavors, they were all variations on a theme,” Anu continued. “It's subtle but clever.”
“Yes, it shows a lot of thought,” Nick added. “Also, if I'm not mistaken, you’re a bit of a familiar face?”
Did they date or something? Also, why do I even care?
