Page 19 of Hot Dad Summer

The latest post from the bakery’s page was from just two days earlier. It was a picture of Brooke and Tyler in Paris with the Eiffel Tower behind them. Both cheaters were tagged in the photo. They were kissing in romantic mood lighting, her pretty white dress highlighting her tan skin and thin body. Tyler was in dress pants with his black, button-down shirt casually unbuttoned to his chest. I was pretty sure he’d gotten a spray tan and his hair looked weird, like it was twisting in different directions in the pixels.

Realizing that Brooke had photoshopped the photo would’ve made me feel slightly better if the caption said literally anything but what it did. I couldn’t help reading it aloud, needing to hear it to even begin to appreciate the audacity of my little sister.

“My baby sister, Brooke Harper, is traveling through Europe with her amazing boyfriend, Tyler Calloway. Isn’t she gorgeous? I keep waiting for the day they announce the engagement! Obviously, I’m going to make the cake! Show her some love and watch their journey unfold!”

I had so many thoughts but the one that was screaming the loudest was that I’d never use so many exclamation marks in a post. I wasn’t a cheerleader. I’d never been that peppy in my life. Brooke was the peppy one. Brooke was the one obsessed with being an influencer, enough so that she started clinging to me as soon as she realized the bakery was becoming famous.

I scrolled down and saw that she’d turned the bakery’s account into a Brooke and Tyler page. She was promoting herself constantly and hadn’t mentioned the bakery in weeks. Fury and embarrassment warred for first position as I thought about people like the woman from earlier that day going onto the Oopsie Daisy Bakery page and seeing nothing but a repetitive, pathetic, begging attempt to grow Brooke’s own social media accounts. She was probably damaging the bakery’s online reputation with her peddling.

I didn’t need a second to think about what I had to do. I typed out an email to my lawyer, a badass woman named Nancy Michaels. I told her about the account, what I wanted, and when I wanted it. Then I opened my text thread with my sister and typed out a message that had been long overdue.

Daisy: Brooke, I need you to turn over access to the bakery’s Instagram. I need you to stop using my hard work, my company to build up your fake influencer life while simultaneously fucking my boyfriend behind my back. Ex-boyfriend now, obviously. You have always been a self-centered, greedy little gremlin but I told myself that you were young and still learning how to be a decent human being. Well, turns out it’s just who you are. I hope you enjoy life with Tyler. While you two are finding your way across Europe, maybe he’ll find a woman’s clit for the first time. This is the end. I want nothing to do with you anymore, Brooke. I’ve taken all the nastiness you’ve handed me over the years but I’m done. My lawyer will be in touch if you don’t send over the login information for the account.

I hit send and then stood up and paced away from the phone. I’d never cut ties with anyone in my life, even when they more than deserved it. It was a personality flaw, the way I’d continue to accept absolute shit from everyone in my life, and it didn’t escape my notice that the person I ended my lifelong pattern with was my own sister. Maybe it was the only way. After all, our parents, and later her, had built that exact flaw in me.

Walking back to my phone, I turned it over so I wouldn’t see the screen if it lit up and then I did what I did best. I started baking.

15

***Daisy***

“Did someone die?” Flynn spoke up from the side door into the kitchen after slipping inside without me noticing. “I haven’t seen this much food outside of a funeral since the last time you were upset.”

I didn’t look up from the bowl of focaccia I was tipping onto a baking sheet. It was a great excuse to not make eye contact with him after the night before. Even as mad as I was at my sister, I still had space to be embarrassed. “A couple of months ago I had a cake request come in for a funeral. That’s not completely abnormal, people like to buy their loved ones favorite baked goods as a special nod, but this one was… Well, the woman wants a devil’s food cake with black frosting, licorice flavored filling, and she wanted us to write across the top. Which is kind of strange for a funeral cake, but she took it one step further. She wanted it to say good riddance. And the card? She wanted it addressed to her husband, who wasn’t the diseased, and she wanted it to say that she hoped he’d join his mistress soon.”

Flynn snorted. “Jesus. Did you do it?”

I did glance up then, eyes bright with mischief. “Hell, yeah, I did it. How often do you get to make a cake like that? I refused to send it to the funeral, though. I’d only agree to send it if we sent it to her husband. Thank God I thought to ask about allergies, though, because the way she hesitated gave her away. He’s allergic to licorice. I skipped that part, of course.”

“And here I was, thinking that you’re a rule follower.” He’d moved closer, his voice lowered in a way that sent tingles up and down my spine. “What made you do all this baking today?”

I pushed the dough to the edges of the baking sheet and chewed on my lower lip. It was already raw from how much I’d been doing that same stress response. “I found out that my sister is using her access to the bakery’s social media account to promote her and Tyler’s relationship. She’s been posting as me cheering her on during her romantic journey across Europe.”

Flynn stopped next to me and extended a finger to gently touch the dough. I slapped his hand away and told him to wash first but it didn’t even phase him. He leaned against the counter so he was facing me. “And here I was thinking you were still being weird about what happened between us last night.”

I froze mid-pour, the expensive olive oil filling the small pot more than I’d meant for it to. My pulse started its audition for a drum line and left me breathing heavier than I should’ve been. I licked my dry lips and used the back of my wrist to dab at the sweat suddenly forming along my forehead. “You can’t just say that out loud.”

He caught my wrist and pulled it down and then used his other hand to gently dab at my forehead with a napkin. It was surprisingly sweet and everything I didn’t need while trying to forget what we’d done. “No?”

I looked up at him and felt the ground shift beneath my feet. His blonde hair was curling wildly around his head, a little too long and a lot too handsome next to those blue eyes that left me thinking of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. It wasn’t fair that he was sporting Butch Cassidy charm and blue eyes while I was doing my best to forget what we’d done. My voice had lost its lingering anger over Brooke; it was slightly shaky and so low it felt intimate. I had to look away so he couldn’t see the heat in my eyes. “No. We can’t talk about that.”

He hummed low in the back of his throat and moved away to wash his hands. Then he was back where he was, even closer, and instead of touching the dough, he was touching me. He ran a fingertip over my forehead and down the tip of my nose. “I think we can. And I think we should.”

For some reason knowing he’d washed his hands before touching me hit me low and hot. I swallowed and braced my hands on the edge of the counter, giving up on the bread. “What are you doing, Flynn?”

He hooked his finger under my chin and lifted my face until I had no choice but to meet his gaze. “You seem nervous, Daisy.”

I was flustered and out of my depth. I wasn’t used to being touched and treated like he was treating me, like I was something he wanted to devour. “Stop it, Flynn.”

His other hand settled on my waist. “This dress should be illegal. I was distracted all day thinking about whether or not it would blow up in the wind.”

My lower stomach tightened. He’d dropped his voice into the same growly whisper he’d used the night before while pinning me to the counter with the sledgehammer between his legs. “Flynn.”

“The way I see it, you can spend your time angry and baking enough food to feed an army, or you could spend your time enjoying yourself with me.” His eyes left me no room for misunderstanding when they slowly moved over my body with molten heat radiating from them. “Don’t you want to see what the rest would be like?”

I didn’t do well with prolonged fluster. It made me awkward and louder than I meant to be and it filled me with the need to run as far and as fast as I could. “Of course, I’m curious! If hooking up with you was anything like last night, I’d probably die a very happy woman and want an impression of your dick etched onto my headstone! But you’re Tyler’s brother. I can’t hook up with my ex’s brother. And I’m here as the nanny. For the kids. For your kid. I’m supposed to have self-control and exercise good behavior for them. Or whatever nannies do. I can’t just rip my ruffled panties off because it would feel good.”

I was breathing hard by the time I finished and all too late I noticed two large figures behind Flynn. Wes and Max were standing just inside the door, bodies frozen as they stared at me with varying degrees of shock on their faces. Flynn’s lips twitched like he wanted to laugh but he contained it. Luckily for him.