I Hate, I Bake, and I Don’t Date! by Alina Jacobs

10

Tess

Enola and Annie trooped after me as we walked into the Quantum Cyber offices.

Cressida gave a chirpy hello to Beck, who grunted and went into his office. The HR director scowled when she saw me.

“I have your laptop here,” she said. “Try not to screw up. And don’t forget you still have all of Ashley’s work to finish.”

“I have an important job to do for Beck first,” I said, purposefully trying to irritate her. “He just relies on me so much; you know how it is.”

“He only hired you as a babysitter,” Cressida said, tapping her designer heel. “Just you wait. He’s going to fire you for the third time.”

“Three times in two days,” I quipped. “Guess I’m a lucky girl.”

“You are so immature!” the HR director snapped then flounced off.

I bit back a snicker and grabbed my laptop.

“Are you hungry?” I asked Beck’s little sisters as I took them to the elevator and down to the Sparrow and Thyme cafe.

“Can we have more to eat?” they asked in wonder.

Had they come from some sort of abusive situation? Did Beck rescue them?

Don’t think about him rescuing them. You hate him, remember? You can’t start swooning over your terrible boss.

“We can always have more to eat,” I promised them solemnly. “In fact, second breakfast is my favorite meal of the day.”

Holly raised a questioning eyebrow when I appeared with the girls at the front counter of the café.

“I can’t imagine that your temp job fell through and you’re magically here to help me after two of my workers called out sick?” she asked with a strained smile.

I gave her a rundown of my firing and subsequent rehiring.

“Now I have to find them a nanny,” I said.

“So you can’t bake the lemon tarts for me?” she pleaded.

I tapped my chin. “You know I love to bake.”

“We can help too!” the girls offered, bouncing up and down in excitement.

“You’re going to be the most adorable little helpers,” Holly said, bending down to smile at them.

“I thoughtI was going to have to do a lot more supervising,” Holly whispered to me as Beck’s little sisters carefully poured the tart custard into the expertly made shells. Annie and Enola were little machines. They had washed their hands, donned aprons, read the recipe, and proceeded to skillfully bake the mini lemon tarts that Holly was famous for.

“I might need to sign on to be a nanny,” Holly joked, “and have the girls work in my café!”

“Oh my god!” Maeve slumped down in a chair next to me. “Did you find a nanny?”

“How do you know about that?”

“Because Beck and Owen and Walker are having a screaming fight in his office.” She fanned herself. “You could drown in the testosterone.”

“I think she needs a chocolate tart,” I said as Holly stood to make Maeve an espresso. “Are any ready?”

“You don’t even have to give me a finished one,” Maeve said. “I’ll just lick a bowl. I need a pick-me-up. Cressida’s been hounding me about picking up all of Ashley’s work. You need to hurry and find a nanny so you can help take some of the workload.”

“I don’t want to have a nanny,” Enola said stubbornly, looking so stinking cute with a streak of raspberry custard on her cheek.

You hate kids, remember?

But these were my kind of kids. They baked, they didn’t make random shrieking noises, and they were friendly. If I could have kids like these, shoot, I’d have a whole baker’s dozen!

“We’ll find you a nice nanny,” I assured her. “Besides, you won’t have to deal with her much because you’ll be in school.”

“I don’t want to go to school. I want to bake all day!” Annie said, pausing as she scraped dough out of the large stand mixer.

You and me both, kid.

“School is fun,” I said, trying not to make a face.

“You don’t sound convincing,” Enola said, mouth flat.

I forced my mouth into a pained smile. “It’s so fun…” I repeated.

Truth was, I had hated school. It wasn’t the work I hated—after all, I loved to read. Wuthering Heights and Heathcliff? Swoon! I didn’t even mind the statistics class because making pretty, color-coded spreadsheets was my jam. No, it was the mean girls and bullies who had made school hell.

“You can help me pick out the nanny applications I show to Beck,” I promised.

“Does he not want to be around us?” Enola asked anxiously.

“Your brother’s a busy man,” I hedged.

“Maybe since you’re Beck’s assistant, you can get us on his schedule?” Annie asked.

Stab me right in the gut, why don’t you.They looked so hopeful. Shoot, they had appeared, what, yesterday? And I had probably spent more time with them than Beck had. And that was not right.

“Which nannies are you looking at?” Maeve asked. I slid my tablet toward her and showed her the high-end nanny site.

“Definitely don’t hire a young and pretty aspiring model,” Holly said as we scrolled through the options. “Cressida will lose her shit.”

“None of these women seem all that great,” I said. “Look at her.” I pointed to a picture of an older woman with no makeup. Not that I was judging, because lord knew I had barely managed to swipe on some mascara in the elevator this morning, but this lady had all the charisma of Miss Trunchbull from Matilda.

“Former military, describes herself as old school, children should be seen and not heard, yeah, this is totally Miss Trunchbull.”

Maeve snickered. “What about this one? She seems nice.”

“She speaks French,” I said, skimming the profile. “And she’s just coming off a divorce.”

“I’ll say!” Holly held out her phone. “She just got divorced from her last client’s husband.”

“Lordy. Don’t let her around Beck. She’ll eat him for lunch,” Maeve said.

“Miss?”

“You can call me Tess,” I said, smiling at Annie.

“Miss Tess,” Annie said. “We don’t really want a nanny, especially not any of those. We’ve been on our own since forever. Enola has taken care of all our sisters. We really just want to spend time with our brothers.”

I stood and went over to her and rubbed her back. “Of course you do.”

Annie picked at the dough on her hands. “When you have your next meeting with Beck, can you maybe ask him if we can just spend time with him instead?”

Seriously, why had I hated kids? Annie and Enola were my new ride or die.

“I’m going to talk to him right now,” I said, picking up my tablet.

When I walked into his office, Beck was sitting at his desk, one leg extended. Against the backdrop of the city, he looked like one of those brooding male models from a high-end fashion magazine. Except he wasn’t playing the part of a high-powered businessman—he was one.

“What?” he barked.

“I need to talk to you about the nanny.”

He held out a hand for the tablet.

I came around the desk. Beck swiveled his chair around, leaning forward slightly.

“Did you find a suitable candidate?”

“The girls don’t want a nanny,” I said stubbornly. “They would rather spend time with you.”

Beck held out his hands. “I’m busy, and I have more important things to do than babysit.”

“You could try to incorporate Enola and Annie into your life,” I said sharply. “You’re their older brother. They’re desperate to get to know you.”

Beck’s mouth was a thin line. “I have other obligations,” he said brusquely.

“Yes, but I think—”

“I don’t care what you think,” he said, standing up. “You’re my assistant; you work for me. You’re not the girls’ mother. You’re not my girlfriend.” He grabbed the tablet from me. “Is this your top choice?” He pointed to the older military vet.

“I don’t like any of them,” I retorted.

“I don’t have time for this. Schedule this woman to come to the office this afternoon, and I will interview her.”

“You want Miss Trunchbull as the girls’ nanny?” I crossed my arms.

He blinked at me and looked at the tablet. “That is not her name.”

“It might as well be.”

“Schedule Ms. Larkin then sign the girls up for private school. You can talk to Greg’s assistant about which one. Then go back to your actual job.”

The anger rose, hot and sour, as I went back down to the lobby. It was just like after my mom had died and my stepfather would berate me and dismiss me just because he could.

I hate Beck.

“Guess it didn’t work,” Enola said, face pinched.

“Your brother is probably overwhelmed,” Holly said reassuringly. “He’s used to the bachelor lifestyle.”

Annoyed at Beck, I called the nanny agency and scheduled the Miss Trunchbull look-alike to come in for a meeting. Then I registered the girls for private school. Afterward, I helped Holly with the lunch rush, and I made Beck’s tea order. As I was cutting up the lemon, Enola grabbed my arm.

“Oh my god, she does look like Miss Trunchbull!” she exclaimed.

The nanny was wearing a pantsuit, and her hair was pulled back in a severe bun. She carried a large black bag slung over her shoulder.

“Is that what she hides children in?” Annie whispered to me, eyes wide.

The nanny had preternatural hearing because her head swiveled in our direction, and her lips curled back to bare yellowed teeth. We all gasped as she stomped over, her heavy, booted steps echoing on the marble lobby floors.

“I don’t want to have her as a nanny,” Enola whispered, grabbing my hand.

“Are those the little brats?” the nanny asked. She laughed like she had made a joke.

I was so not letting Beck hire her.

“You there.” She pointed to Enola. “Fetch me a water, girl.”

She looked down her nose at me. “You the assistant? You look disorganized. I run a tight ship, and it sounds like Mr. Svensson does as well. You won’t be long with us.”

Enola gingerly handed her a bottle of water, and the nanny snatched it from her.

“Move out!” the nanny barked. “Once I’m in charge, there will be no baking. You will either be in school, studying, asleep, or running drills.”

“They’re just having fun,” I said, escorting her to the elevator.

“I don’t believe in fun. I believe in discipline.”