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Madeleine left an hour ago from our job interview, and I can’t shake her from my mind. So I’m working in the kitchen, cutting butter into my cookie dough, trying to distract myself from the thoughts that won’t stop racing.
First of all, she’s stunning. Classy and beautiful, she carries herself with a presence you can’t deny. But when she said she was here for the assistant position, that took my thoughts in a whole different direction.
Apparently, Mom did send an email letting me know about her. Which I missed, because I’m up to my nose in orders and can barely keep up.
And YES, I know that sounds like I need an assistant.
But I don’t.
A front desk receptionist is all I need. Someone to organize the business details and keep up with customers. Not help in the kitchen.
Besides being protective of my baking, I also can’t let myself be in such a close space with Madeleine. Because I can’t help the attraction I feel toward her. And she’s only twenty-four.
A surprisingly mature and accomplished twenty-four year old, but still—seven YEARS younger than me.
And let’s not mention that I’m now her boss.
So, for all these reasons, I need to keep her at a distance. I can’t allow her in the kitchen. No more conversations about the True Trophy Wives (even though I really want to know all about the Taylors’ wedding and their cake).
And definitely no touching.
Because even a simple handshake gave me a sensation I hadn’t experienced in years.
Dang it. Now the butter is melting all over my fingers. I’m so caught up in my thoughts, I’ve ruined this batch of dough.
I set it aside, but instead of starting again, I head to my office and sit at my computer.
If she wants a test, I’ll give her a test.
Chapter Three
Madeleine
I’ve been working at Cookies for two weeks, and I still haven’t been allowed in the kitchen.
I also haven’t convinced Mason to change the name of the bakery.
I also haven’t gotten over my attraction to him.
The first day I came in to work, he had a full written exam for me to complete. It had fifty questions. I got them all right, but he just huffed and turned away, telling me to take out the trash.
The next day, he asked me the difference between baking powder and baking soda. I almost didn’t want to answer, because I was so insulted. But that didn’t keep me from creepily watching him roll out the cookie dough that morning, a smile on my face at the flour that dusted the piece of brown hair that swooped across his forehead.
The day after that, he asked me what variations I would need to bake in high altitude. And then I spied on him scooping the cookie dough onto a tray.
And on and on and on.
Every day, a new test. Some question he wants to ask, something he thinks is going to stump me. And every day, I answer the question correctly, then fight my attraction to him, spying on what he’s baking.
He’s all professional now. Gone are the adorable smirks from our interview. It’s like the second I mentioned I was twenty-four, he panicked.
And he still won’t let me in the kitchen.
Trust me, he could use me. Some of these cookies need a little something special. His vanilla cookies are pretty bland. I’d love to throw in some caramel, and maybe even Earl Grey tea. He’s also working on gluten-free chocolate chip cookies, and I hear him constantly grunting about the flavors being wrong. Besides improving his recipes, I’ve been dying to play around with Luna’s family recipe for oatmeal cookies with chocolate covered raisins. They’re pretty good the way they are, but I’d love to experiment with some variations.
But I’m not allowed in the kitchen. And outside of the bakery, I’m currently living with my parents, who rent the TINIEST apartment I’ve ever seen. Their kitchen is almost non-existent. So I haven’t baked in two weeks, and instead I’m scribbling like a madwoman in my notebook, writing any ideas that pop into my head. Some are recipes to try, others are ideas to help Mason improve his bakery overall, whenever he decides to trust me and let me in.
At least this town is adorable. We might be in California, but I feel like I’m in a fairy tale land. The main part of town is all cobblestones, and everyone walks to the different shops. There’s a gorgeous fountain in the center of town, and I spend my lunch breaks there watching all the people walk by.
