Then he licked my freaking Christmas cookie! Ten whole minutes of frosting work was gone.
“You… you!” I sputtered. “I spent a million years decorating that.”
He bit the head off the snowman then tossed it back on the platter.
“That was actually pretty good for a Christmas cookie. I think I might have to lick your cookies again.”
“You…” I wanted to curse him out, but we were on live TV, and this was supposed to be a family-friendly program. The cameramen, sensing drama like sharks sensed blood, were hovering around us.
“You…doo-doo head!” Not as satisfying as calling him a fuckface asshole but it would have to do.
Matt snorted. “I think you should stop wasting time on name-calling since you clearly suck at it and get back to baking.”
He clapped his hands at me. “Chop chop.”
Fuck this asshole.
“Chop this!” I hollered, scooping out a handful of bright-red royal icing and throwing it at him.
Matt cursed, for real, with multiple F-bombs because if you were some sort of moneyed Manhattan type, you did not care about ruining the sanctity ofThe Great Christmas Bake-Off.
“You ruined my suit,” he roared as he stood there in front of me, the icing dripping down his face, running down the front of his suit, andplop ploppingto the floor.
“You need to disqualify her,” he shouted to the producers.
They ignored him.
I giggled.
“Thirty minutes,” Anastasia said. “Merrie, I hope you can redo your cookies in time.”
That made me mad all over again.
“Matt,” she told him, “you look tasty enough to eat!”
6
Matt
“Bro, it’s in your hair.” Eli swiped at me ineffectively with a half-frozen towel to try to remove the icing.
Fucking Merrie.
“How is she even allowed to continue?” I raged as the contestants put the finishing touches on all their frosting creations. “They need to kick her off.”
“They need to kick your ex off,” Eli said.
Hensley was flirting with Brody. He had his hand on her waist.
“Fuck them. Fuck this competition. Fuck Christmas.”
“Fuck!” Eli cursed and jumped out of the way as a bucket of water was dumped over my head.
I sprung around ready to fight then backpedaled when I saw my sister standing there. She set the bucket down.
“All that red frosting was going to stain your hair. Also, watch your language. There are children and elderly present.”
Several of the younger Svensson sisters waved to her, almost falling over the railing of the grandstand balcony where they were perched. Greg, looking even more displeased than I was at attendingThe Great Christmas Bake-Off,barked at his sisters and hauled them backward.
