Ellie Harper's heart thundered as she weaved through the Willow Creek Harvest Festival, her remaining cupcakes wobbling on a tray. Fairy lights twinkled above the bustling square, where vendors hawked cider and kids darted through hay bales. The air smelled of caramel apples and desperation—hers, specifically. Her missing contest cupcake, her one shot to win the $5,000 prize and save Sweet Haven, was last seen in Max Bennett's briefcase. That smug architect was either a thief or a puzzle she didn't have time to solve. The baking contest started in twenty minutes, and she was one cupcake short of a full entry.
She spotted Max near the judging tent, his pristine suit a stark contrast to the flannel-clad crowd. He was arguing with Gus, who waved his megaphone like a battle flag. Ellie's blood boiled. Was he gloating? Sabotaging her to seal his corporate deal? She stormed over, tray teetering, and nearly collided with a juggler tossing flaming torches. "Watch it!" she yelped, dodging a spark that singed her apron.
Max turned, his stormy eyes meeting hers. "You again," he said, voice dry as day-old bread. "Is tripping a lifestyle choice or just a hobby?"
"Funny," Ellie snapped, shoving the tray under his nose. "Where's my cupcake, city boy? I saw you stuff it in your briefcase. Trying to tank my contest chances so your developers win?" Her voice cracked, betraying the panic clawing her chest. Sweet Haven was her grandmother's dream, her safe haven after years of feeling like a screw-up. Losing it wasn't an option.
Max's jaw tightened, but a flicker of something—guilt?—crossed his face. "I didn't steal anything," he said, gripping his briefcase. "Maybe you dropped it in your chaos tornado."
"Chaos tornado?" Ellie's cheeks flushed. "This from the guy who looks like he irons his socks?"
Before Max could retort, a shrill voice cut through the crowd. "Ellie Harper, you thief!" Tessa Vaughn, Willow Creek's rival baker and resident mean girl, strutted up, her sleek ponytail bouncing. She held a tray of pristine lemon tarts, her signature contest entry. "That triple-chocolate-hazelnut cupcake you entered? It's my recipe. Stolen from my shop last month!"
The crowd gasped, heads swiveling like they were watching a soap opera. Ellie's stomach plummeted. "That's ridiculous!" she said, her voice shaking. "I've been tweaking that recipe for years. It's my grandma's base, not yours!" But doubt gnawed at her. Had Tessa seen her notes? Her kitchen was a mess—maybe she'd left a recipe card out?
Tessa smirked, holding up her phone. "I've got proof. A video from my shop's security camera, showing you snooping around my counter last month. Care to explain?"
Ellie froze, her tray trembling. She'd visited Tessa's bakery to scope out the competition, but she hadn't stolen anything. Had she? Her memory was as reliable as her ancient oven. Max raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. Was he enjoying this? Or was he hiding something?
Gus, ever the instigator, grabbed his megaphone. "Folks, we've got a scandal! Is Sweet Haven's darling a recipe thief?" The crowd murmured, and Ellie's face burned. She wanted to crawl under a hay bale. This was her worst nightmare—losing her shop and her reputation.
"Enough," Max said, stepping forward, his voice sharp. "This is a contest, not a courtroom. Let the judges decide." He turned to Ellie, his tone softer but firm. "You've got ten minutes to get your entry in. Move."
Ellie blinked, thrown by his intervention. Was he helping her? Or covering his own tracks? She didn't have time to figure it out. She bolted to the contest tent, her mind racing. She'd have to improvise a new cupcake—fast. In the tent, she scrambled, mixing batter with shaky hands, her apron dusted with flour and panic. The judges, including Max (roped in by Gus), loomed nearby, watching her every move.
As she piped a hasty swirl onto her makeshift cupcake, she overheard Max on his phone, his voice low. "Yes, I've got it under control," he said. "The property's still in play. No delays." Ellie's heart sank. Was he playing her? Stealing her cupcake to weaken her chances, then swooping in for his corporate win?
She finished her entry just as the judges called time. Her cupcake was lopsided, but it was hers—chocolate, hazelnut, and a desperate dash of hope. The crowd cheered as the judging began, but Tessa's smug grin made Ellie's skin crawl. She leaned toward Max, her voice a fierce whisper. "If you took my cupcake to screw me over, I'll frost you into next week."
Max's lips twitched, almost a smile. "Tempting," he said, "but I'd rather not be frosted." His eyes held hers, a spark of something—challenge? Attraction?—making her pulse skip.
Before she could respond, Tessa strutted to the judges' table, holding up her phone. "Before you taste, you need to see this," she said, her voice dripping with venom. "Ellie's not who you think. And neither is he." She pointed at Max, and the crowd gasped again.
Ellie's breath caught. What did Tessa know about Max? Was he tied to her accusation? As the video played on Tessa's phone, the screen flickered, showing a grainy image—not of Ellie, but of Max, slipping into Tessa's bakery late at night. The crowd erupted, and Ellie's world tilted. Was Max the real thief? And if so, what was he hiding—and why?