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“Here. Do me a favor. You hold onto this for now. Until the contest is over.”
Cindy’s head snaps toward me.
I smile. “We both finish without any recipes.”
Mayor Pete takes the notebook. “That sounds fair to me.”
“I don’t need that book,” Cindy says quickly.
“That’s great,” I tell her. “Because neither do I.”
Her eyes narrow. With a huff, she turns away from me. Smiling sweetly, I head back toward my table.
Vincent falls into step beside me, looking absolutely delighted.
“What?” I ask out of the corner of my mouth.
“Nothing.”
It’s so not nothing, but realization hits me a moment later. “You’re really enjoying this.”
“Pumpkin, this might be the best Halloween I’ve had in thirty-nine years.”
TEN
MIDNIGHT
By eight-thirty, our spontaneous pumpkin pie rematch has somehow become the main event of the Shadowvale Fall Festival leading up to its closing.
Now, I’m not so sure how that happened. One minute, I let jealousy take me over until I was challenging Cindy to prove that yesterday’s win wasn’t a fluke. The next, I’m waiting for our pies to cool just enough that Mayor Pete—who is sat at the judging table, my orange notebook sitting next to his fork and knife—can take a bite without burning his mouth.
I still don’t know how she got her grubby paws on it. I’m prepared to accept that I’ll never know. Cindy seems like the type to go to her grave insisting that the book of recipes with my name written on the inside cover belongs to her. Fine. She can tell herself whatever she wants. Everyone else saw the truth.
Not that I need the book to beat her. I don’t. I’m confident in my abilities as Shadowvale’s premier piemaker, and I know my pie will taste good. Will it be the best pie Mayor Pete has ever tasted? I’d like more than an hour for that, but for what I had to work with, I’m pleased with the outcome.
The way that Cindy is gnawing nervously on her thumbnail, hovering behind the disaster that is her prep station? I don’t think she feels the same way…
While I wait, I look out into the gathered crowd, not even pretending that I’m not searching for Vincent. I find him standing right at the front of the crowd, his arms crossed over his chest and those fake black cat ears still poking out of his thick blond hair. He catches my eye, glances pointedly at Cindy, then gives me the smuggest grin I’ve ever seen.
I have to work hard to bite back my own.
Before we know it, the festival organizer that’s in charge of making sure the closing ceremony goes off without a hitch gestures to Mayor Pete that it’s time to judge the pies. I serve him one slice, Cindy another, and then the both of us move to stand in front of him to watch his reaction.
Mayor Pete tastes Cindy’s first. He nods appreciatively, and my heart thumps wildly as I convince myself that it’s just as good as yesterday’s. Switching plates, he then tastes mine.
My breath catches in my throat as his eyebrows shoot up, the mayor making a ‘mmm’ sound before he takes another big bite.
“This one,” Mayor Pete announces once he’s swallowed, pointing his fork at my pie before scooping up another forkful of my filling. “Kate of The Pie Chart. Sorry, but today it’s no contest. This just might be the best pie I’ve ever had.”
And because I’m a mature thirty-three year old woman, I refrain from sticking my tongue out at Cindy even though I really, really want to.
Though, when the nearby crowd erupts into a round of applause, I do throw both hands up in the air with a delighted whoop, and when I turn around, Vincent is already coming for me. He catches me around the waist, lifting me right off my feet before spinning me around one time while I laugh into his shoulder.
He drops a kiss to the top of my head. “Congratulations, pumpkin. I knew you would win!”
Still laughing, I wait until he lowers me to my feet to tap him in the hard chest. “Oh, you did not.”
“Of course I did. I’m your cat. I’ve snuck into the kitchen and eaten enough of your baking to be considered an expert.” Then, before I can remark on that, he squeezes me in another hug. “Happy?”
