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

39

Tess

Well, that was unexpected.

“Funny,” I said, staring up at him. “Because I’d like that too.” I was about to suggest we go explore that further when he turned to the auction items.

“Were you looking for a replacement painting?”

“I know you’re not dissing my painting,” I said, poking him in the abs and almost breaking my finger.

“I just think we could upgrade,” Beck said diplomatically.

“You wish you had something as cool as my painting!”

Beck pointed to a painting hanging on one of the walls. It was a small still life. “That’s nice, for example.”

“If I’m buying another painting, I want that one.” I pointed to a huge black, white, and pink painting. The style might be referred to as gothic bubble princess. It had unicorns, pink paint, little collages, and so much glitter. But it was all shellacked onto the painting, so it was okay.

Beck sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You have to bid on something,” I reminded him. “Ethel’s going to be upset if you don’t.”

“Wouldn’t you rather have a piece of jewelry?”

“What areyou going to do with that painting?” Beck asked as he opened the door to the condo. “Also, I think I might have overbid.”

“It’s for charity!” I reminded him with a giggle. “I’m going to hang it in the hallway so it’s the first thing I see when I walk out of my room in the morning.”

Beck wrapped his arms around me.

“Wouldn’t you rather have me be the first thing you want to see when you walk out of your room in the morning?”

He leaned down to kiss me.

I moaned softly, wrapping my arms around his neck. I’d had enough to drink at the party that being with him felt like a very good idea.

He pushed me up against the wall. He tugged up the lacy fabric of my skirt. He squeezed my thighs. His head moved down to suck my nipples through the fabric.

I whimpered as he caressed my ass, one hand slipping between my legs. The flower crown was being crushed against the wall, but I didn’t care. Beck felt so good.

“You look so sexy in this dress,” Beck murmured.

“I think everyone wanted to fuck me in this dress,” I teased, needing to take it off and feel more of him.

“But I’m the only one who will,” he said in that intoxicatingly deep voice.

“How was your party?”

We jumped apart.

I hastily smoothed down my dress.

“Everyone loved my outfit,” I told Beck’s sisters. “If you ever give up app development, you could create custom designer gowns.”

They beamed.

“So we won?” Annie asked.

I looked at Beck.

“Yes,” he said begrudgingly. “You won.”

I rubbed my hands together. “You’re going to have to leave work early tomorrow,” I warned, “because we are having a tea party.”

I pickedthe girls up early from the Svensson Investment office to get ready for our tea party with Beck.

We made scones, tea sandwiches, and mini cakes. I even polished the silver on my teapot that I had bought on a whim instead of paying off a credit card bill. I had kicked myself when I had found out that it was a nonrefundable purchase. But you know what? Now I was glad that I had a high-end English tea set.

“It’s so pretty!” Annie said. We had arranged the table for tea with a white lace tablecloth, gleaming silver spoons, and teacups and saucers with little blue hand-painted flowers.

“Now all we need is our gentleman.” We heard the front door open.

“He’s right on time!”

I met Beck in the hall and looked him over. He leaned in to give me a steamy kiss.

“I need you out of those clothes.”

“I thought we had tea,” he whispered, “but if you’d like a different prize, that can be arranged.”

“No,” I said. “This is a formal afternoon tea. You need to wear a three-piece suit.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“We do things properly here,” I told him.

I was taking pictures of our tea arrangement when Beck came back in, wearing a gray three-piece suit.

“I’m here for the tea party,” he said. “Am I supposed to bow?”

“I’m not going to say no!” I joked.

He made a dramatic bow, making the girls giggle. Then he looked around.

“I’m impressed. This is a legit tea party with food and everything.”

I snorted. “You act like you don’t even know me. Of course there’s food. What did you think we were going to do? Roll up with a plastic tea set and fake doughnuts? No, dude, we’re legit.”

“Good thing I wore a pocket watch,” he said, tapping his breast pocket.

Beck pulled out the chairs for me and his sisters then sat down and reached for one of the scones on the three-tiered tray.

“Nope,” I said, batting his hand away. “There is an afternoon tea etiquette. We’ve been studying. Tea comes first.”

Enola poured the tea into the strainers resting on each cup.

“Now you have to stir it with your teaspoon but only between six and twelve o’clock.” I demonstrated.

“This seems overdone for an afternoon snack,” Beck remarked as he stirred his tea.

“This is how they do things in England,” Annie informed him. “First,” she instructed, “you have to start at the bottom of the three-tiered platter, which holds tea sandwiches like egg salad and cucumber sandwiches. Then the next tier is scones with preserves and clotted cream along with cheese sticks and seasonal breads. The third tier is desserts. We have mini cakes, tarts, macaroons, and chocolate-covered strawberries.”

I selected one of the sandwiches. We had cut them into long, thin strips. The egg salad was divine.

“So now what?” Beck asked.

“Now we make polite conversation about the weather,” Enola said.

“Are you sure?” I asked. “Because I think there was a lot of gossip going on in the Victorian era.”

“Of course, but you pretend like you’re talking about the weather,” Enola replied, taking a sip of her steaming tea.

I picked up my own teacup then addressed Beck in a fake posh British accent. “How is the estate? Lady Witherspoon relayed that she called on you the other day. She mentioned you had the loveliest irises growing.”

“Well,” Beck said, setting down his teacup.

“You have to talk in a British accent,” I prodded, nudging him with a bare foot.

He grabbed me under the table and stroked my bare ankle before letting me go. His touch made me shiver.

Yeah, I definitely want my own special prize tonight!

My boss gave me a wry smile then said, “How good of you to ask. We did just receive a new shipment of horses. I’ll be traveling out to Harrogate in a few weeks to help train them.”

Beck’s accent was actually really good, and I suddenly had a strong desire to see him dressed up like Mr. Darcy.

“Horses?” I remarked. “How charming.”

“Did you bring them in from the Americas?” Annie asked.

“Yes, from Wyoming.”

“And how are they fitting into their new home?” Enola asked.

“Hunter says they are doing very well, though Midnight and Merlin seem a bit miffed that they have new neighbors.”

“Oh,” I said. “Oh! Wait, you literally had a bunch of horses shipped into your actual estate. That’s…” I grabbed a sandwich and wolfed it down. “That’s very extra.”

“When you girls come to the country, we’ll go riding,” Beck promised his sisters.

“Can we go driving?” Enola begged.

“Like in a car?” I asked, confused.

“Keep up!” Beck said with a wink. “It’s carriage driving with a horse team and buggy. Of course, there are no cars in the early Victorian period.”

“Quite right. Newfangled inventions.”

“Our brother, Tanner, collects very old machinery,” Beck said as I poured him more tea. “And I believe he actually owns an old prototype car from the 1880s that he’s been working on restoring. We should tell him to bring it out to the estate.”

I reached for another sandwich, but they were all gone. I took a scone instead, spreading the jam and clotted cream liberally.

“I feel like I haven’t gotten enough underhanded Victorian gossip,” I told the girls.

Enola was thoughtful for a moment. “Lord Mike has adopted a guinea pig.”

“I’m sorry,” Beck said, frowning. “Mike has a guinea pig?”

Enola nodded happily. “It’s very cute.”

“But he doesn’t know it yet,” Annie explained. “Ophelia has it living in her bathroom. She’s going to surprise Mike when he comes back from work.”

“Ophelia thought he needed a pet, and one of the seniors in the building had a friend who breeds guinea pigs and gave her one.” Enola took a bite of her scone.

“Dang,” I said. “Mike’s in for a real surprise, isn’t he?” I grabbed two of the desserts. The scones were gone, unfortunately. I think I ate more than my fair share, but they were tasty.

“Please don’t surprise me with a live animal,” Beck said to the girls. He looked at the empty tray. And then my empty plate.

“In my defense,” I said, “the Victorians really need to learn something from the Americans. Nothing like an all-you-can-eat buffet.”

“It was just supposed to be a snack to tide you over before dinner,” Annie said, sipping her tea.

I dusted off my hands. “Welp,” I said. “I’m starving. Who wants fettuccini Alfredo?”