"What gave it away?" he said, shaking his head. "The decorator quit—was offered a better job. So now I have all of these Christmas decorations. I'm supposed to put everything up in the soundstage, and I don't know what to do." He made a disgusted noise. "We're starting filming tomorrow morning. They better pay is all I have to say."
"Yeah," I agreed, "I need the prize money." I started pawing through the boxes.
"There's nice stuff in here," I told him and started pushing the loaded cart toward the double doors. "Come on, I'll help you deck the halls."
The camera guy followed me gratefully. "You're a lifesaver. You're Chloe, right? I've seen your Instagram—it's super cool. I’m glad you're helping. I can make a camera shot look good, but I just don't have the decorator's touch."
We spent the next several hours putting up decorations, and when we were done, the studio set looked like Christmas. Zane looked around in awe.
"You really did an amazing job," he said. I had arranged bunches of pinecones and ribbons, hung big fat strands of garlands, sprinkled fake snow, tucked little ornaments here and there, and put up lights to make the place sparkle.
"Are the fairy lights going to mess up the cameras?" I asked in concern.
"Nah," he said. "I have them plugged into the lighting board, so the lighting guy can adjust as needed."
I took out my phone to take a picture for my Instagram account. Dana said we should be promoting, so I hoped it was okay. It was the only thing going right in my life right now, especially since this contest was clearly not a Food Network–level production.
There were some decorations left over, so I hung them up out in the lobby to make it feel more festive. As I was returning from stacking the boxes in a storage room, I heard more yelling.
"It stinks!" a deep voice said. "My whole tower smells disgusting."
"It smells like Christmas," I heard Gunnar reply.
In the lobby off of the soundstage was a gorgeous man. He was tall and broad shouldered with silver-white hair and icy blue eyes. Framed against the Christmas decorations, he made a perfect picture.
I snapped his photo. I knew who he was. Jack Frost—the billionaire owner of Platinum Provisions. I thought his company made some type of very expensive, highly specialized surgical equipment along with drill bits for mining and other applications, but I only knew them for their line of cooking tools and molecular gastronomy equipment. It was high precision and expensive.
I had my own special collection of thousands of dollars’ worth of Platinum Provisions cooking and baking tools, and they were among my most prized possessions. My collection contained tiny knives that rarely needed sharpening, distillery equipment to extract the flavor from various ingredients, and high-precision frosting guns and icing pipers to make intricate decorations. Some of my most-liked Instagram posts were of the perfect miniature cakes I had made with these Platinum Provisions baking tools.
Speaking of Instagram—I snapped Jack Frost's picture again. He was too perfect.
"Don't take my picture!" he said, his attention snapping to me.
"Holy smokes, Jack, calm down!" Gunnar said.
"I can't believe I let you rope me into judging this competition. You know I hate Christmas," Jack said.
"You don't like Christmas?" I blurted.
"I hate Christmas," he snarled, "I hate the scented candles and the decorations and the holiday baked goods."
"Not even Christmas cookies?" I asked, flabbergasted. Who didn’t like Christmas cookies?
He walked up to me, closing the distance between us and invading my personal space. I was sure my eyes were wide in my head. I was wearing boots, but he was still tall enough to loom over me, his icy blue eyes boring into me.
Wouldn't it be great if he was boring something else into you?
I told the naughty elf living in my subconscious to shut up.
"I don't like cookies," Jack said, "and I don't like little girls who believe in the magic of Christmas."
"You'll like my cookies," I told him, not sure where that surge of courage had come from.
"Don't bet on it," he replied and turned on his heel, followed by Gunnar.
A bake-off judge who hated sweets. Awesome.
2
