“Nathan came over and asked for a few of our ramekins,” Sydney said. “I guess we ended up with more after cleanup the other day? Anyway, he saw I was setting up for tempering chocolate, and asked what it was for. And I told him we were making bombes . . . But I didn’t say anything about the German chocolate cake. I promise!”
Cass nodded, gave Sydney a small smile. “Was the recipe on the table?”
Sydney put a hand to her forehead. “Yes.”
“And when you left to get the ramekins, Nathan was alone at the workstation.” Cass sighed. Sydney looked stricken.
“Should I tell Sasha?” Sydney asked. “I’ll throw myself under the bus, Charlie. It’s my fault and I should—”
“Absolutely not,” Cass replied. “I don’t want you to get in trouble. Besides, we’re going to do something even better. Okay? You with me?”
“Always. What are you thinking?”
Cass paused, her mind blank. Then she grabbed her reusable water bottle. “I just need a few minutes. And some water. Don’t stress, Sydney. We’ve got this.” She wasn’t sure she believed that, but knew if she didn’t give herself a moment alone she was going to have a breakdown, and Austin Nash would win.
* * *
? ? ?
Cass stood in the hallway in front of the water refill station. She looked up at the ceiling, bottle in hand, and struggled for composure by taking a few deep breaths.
“Austin Nash is an ass,” she murmured. Charlie had told her to look out for Austin, but did she even know the half of it? That he was actively trying to sabotage her career? The sisters had always been protective of each other, and this Austin situation was no exception. She needed to handle this right, for Charlie’s sake. And she needed to get in touch with Charlie tonight, even if she had to call someone else in town and send them over to the bakery with a message for her sister.
She became aware that someone was standing behind her, waiting to use the water station. With a quick “Sorry” she got busy filling her bottle. When she turned around, she saw him: the cute guy from the coffee shop, the one she’d invited—with a plus one—to the show today.
“Miguel,” she said quickly, so he wouldn’t think she’d forgotten his name and blame it on concussion symptoms. “You made it!”
He was holding two Sweet & Salty branded water bottles, same as hers, one in each hand. When he smiled, his dimples were on full display, which did not disappoint Cass one bit. Wife or no wife, she could still appreciate his good looks. “Charlie! Hey! I thought that might be you. I’m surprised they let the talent mingle with the riffraff.”
Cass was so happy to see a friendly face, but then remembered Miguel thought she was Charlie, which meant he also thought she was a reality-show celebrity. Not some small-town baker who was wholly out of her element.
“It’s really great to see you,” Miguel said, filling the first of his bottles. “Though I think I might be lost. Did I take a wrong turn somewhere?”
It was actually Cass who was in the wrong area of the studio, where guests and audience members waited. She and Austin shared a greenroom, which had bottles of water all set out, but she hadn’t wanted to risk running into her co-host.
“You’re good,” Cass said with a smile. “I just wanted some space from the chaos backstage.” Then she watched him fill the second bottle. “So, you’re here with . . . Sorry, can you remind me of her name again?”
“Jacintha.”
“Right! Are you enjoying yourselves so far?”
“We just got here, and apparently we’re a bit early. Jacintha hates being late, and I just do what she tells me to.” He laughed, but Cass had trouble keeping the smile on her face.
“I should probably get back,” she began.
Miguel capped the second bottle, then gave Cass what she was beginning to recognize as his signature kind and caring expression. “Listen, I don’t want to overstep, but . . . you seem a little stressed. How are you doing?”
Cass laughed weakly. “You’re right. There was a bit of on-set drama this morning. My co-host is . . . Well, let’s just say he’s doing his best to try and make me look bad.” She was aware she’d said too much, and tried to backpedal. “Actually, that’s not entirely true. I’m making myself look bad, I guess. But I’m letting him get under my skin. He keeps bringing up the concussion every chance he gets. He’s trying to undermine me, so he can take the next show away from Char—away from me.” Cass paused to take a breath. “I am so sorry, Miguel. When I invited you here it was not to be my therapist!”