My nerves are staging a full-scale mutiny over filming today.
When I step through the front doors of Batter Up, the scent hits me first—butter, sugar, and something that resembles caramel. While the woman with long copper-red hair, tied back in a ponytail, helps another customer with a friendly smile, I take that moment to browse the display case. Rows of muffins, croissants, and cupcakes gleam under the glass.
“Hi, what can I get for you?”
“Everything,” I say before I can stop myself. “Everything looks too pretty to eat and I could use a hefty dose sugar and zero judgment.”
She laughs, and it’s soft and welcoming. “Lucky for you, wespecialize in both,” she answers proudly before the kitchen door swings open, slamming against the counter behind it. The woman behind the counter and I both snap our heads in that direction.
“Oops, sorry. Swung the door a little too—” The woman stops, taking me in, her eyes widening. “No way! Are you Scottie? As in my favorite DIY influencer, Scottie?”
I blink, caught off guard. I’m used to being one of many names on someone’s feed or an account you scroll past, but not the one you single out. Not someone’sfavorite.
“Your favorite?” I say with a small, disbelieving laugh slipping out. “I’m glad you like my stuff. I just…wow. That’s really nice to hear.”
“Are you kidding? Some of those accounts out there make everything look…unrealistic to attempt. Yours feels doable. Like real people could pull it off.”
Her words are opposite of what I normally hear. Where my mom says things aren’t polished enough or impressive enough, this stranger just told me that’s what she loves most about it. And that’s what I’ve always tried to show. If I can do it, anyone can.
“I appreciate that.”
“And,” she continues, “I saw your post announcement for the upcoming season ofNailed It or Failed Itand saw it was going to be filmed here, and I squealed!”
“I’m excited about it,” I say, smiling wide and matching her energy. “I’m just trying not to throw up on my first day of filming.”
The first woman hands me a box filled with six assorted muffins. “Then you need the breakfast of champions.”
Looking down through the little window hole of the box, my mouth waters thinking about how good these will be. “Thank you. How much?”
She waves me off. “On the house.” She extends her hand across the counter. “I’m Lily, by the way. I own the bakery.”
“Wow, thank you. This place is so cute,” I say, looking around. “I feel like I can get lost in the smell alone. You need to bottle it up and put it in a candle.”
She puts both hands on her hips. “You know what, we should!”
“And I’m Blair,” the other woman says, extending her hand across the counter. “I promise I’m not really a crazy person. My sister and I both follow you and love your work. I’m just so excited you’re here.”
“Me too. But definitely nervous,” I admit.
“Oh, that’s right, you’re working on that old abandoned house on Redwood Ave., right?”
I nod. “It’s actually my grandmother’s old place. The house is in rough shape.”
“You’re not kidding,” Lily says. “But word around town is you have a good crew!”
Blair faces Lily. “If Tucker is part of that crew, she’s going to need a steady sugar drip to keep up with him.”
“Facts,” Lily says with a finger pointed in Blair’s direction.
My stomach twists at the sound of his name. I hate how quickly my brain thinks of his easy grin, full confidence, and the feeling I felt every time his eyes met mine last night. The easy way out of this and pretending his name doesn’t do something to me, would be to change the subject or bring up muffins or something. But the words tumble out of me anyway.
“You…you two know Tucker?”
“He’s my cousin,” Lily says, facing me. “He’s a pain in the ass, but the good kind. And he’s really good at his job.”
Blair nods in agreement. “You’re either going to want to laugh at him or throw something at him. Oftentimes it’s both.”
A short, surprising laugh slips out before I can stop it, and I press my lips together like I can shove the sound back down. Apparently, I’m not the only one who’s noticed his talent for getting under someone’s skin.
