Instead, I pivot on my knees, turning my back to Max as I scoop chunks of ruined cake together with both hands. I only succeed in smearing lavender buttercream deeper into the grain of the hardwood.
Rocking forward onto my hands and knees, I reach for the cake stand.
Behind me, Max makes a strangled sound.
The noise is enough to stop me cold.
A horrifying realization crashes into me. I’m bent completely over. The hem of my dress has ridden up over my thighs. The warm breeze drifting in through the open front door brushes my bare ass cheeks.
I should have done laundry instead of resorting to wearing my I-have-no-clean-underwear thong.
I peer over my shoulder and nearly screech when Max’s gaze locks with mine.
The tiny shred of dignity I’d been desperately trying to salvage slips through my fingers like the frosting coating my hands.
Please let the earth open up. Please let it swallow me whole and magickally transport me to a different realm.
Hands trembling, I smooth my dress back into place before sitting on my heels.
A few minutes ago, I’d actually started to believe that maybe the handsome new judge was actually looking at me like I was the only woman in Crescent Cove. Like I was a better choice over Candi. That maybe I wasn’t destined to forever be the town’s quirky disaster.
Then Candi happened, and I’m back in high school all over again, tripping and falling and practically bouncing off the talent show stage because of that little witch’s pink magick and need to be the center of attention.
I’d promised myself those days were over. That I was stronger now, older and wiser, and far more confident and prepared than the awkward girl who hid beside a mop bucket with a sandwich balanced on her knees.
Yet here I am, covered in buttercream and flashing my ass at a stranger while Candi-with-an-I gathers cleaning supplies andplays the perfect guest after sabotaging me for what feels like the thousandth time.
I can’t do this.
I can’t watch her win again.
And I can’t survive one more second with the most attractive man I’ve ever met witnessing me come apart at the seams.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper one last time, refusing to look at him as I flee through the front door and run all the way home.
CHAPTER FOUR
Max
“Let me help you get cleaned up. Poor Lila’s always been such a klutz.” Candi reaches toward the freckles of frosting on my bare chest with a wad of paper towels, her lips tipping into a satisfied smirk.
Liar.My fox snarled inside my skull.
Although neither of us can prove she’s the cause of Lila’s ungraceful tumble, there’s a feeling in my gut that tells me she’s completely to blame. And not only because I swear I saw pink sparks of magick before Lila’s fall.
I catch Candi’s wrist before she makes contact with my chest. The paper towels hover inches from my pec where a smear of buttercream warms against my skin.
“I’ve got it,” I say, my voice coming out flat. “Thanks for your help.”
“But you’re absolutely covered.” Her gaze drifts down my chest, lingering on the waistband of my shorts. “I feel just terrible about Lila’s little accident. Maybe if I’d walked in first?—
“Like you said, it was an accident. Right?” I ask, releasing her wrist.
Her gaze narrows, eyes flashing with malice before she bats her long lashes up at me and pushes her glossed lips into a pout. “Right.”
Liarrrrrr.My fox growls again. Too bad we’d both been too busy watching Lila walk through my front door to know for sure.
And then the skirt. Her dress had flipped up when she got on all fours, revealing the soft backs of her thighs and the band of neon yellow cotton around her hips that fit snugly between the thick swells of her?—
