Page 37 of Sexy Bad Boss

Chapter Eleven

MYRA

What on earth is happening here? James baking? The man is brilliant at brokering deals, not so much in the kitchen. In fact, he can’t boil, steam, sauté, fry, or bake. For heaven’s sake, he’s burned toast to a crisp, charred bit of coal more times than any man should.

Abby skips ahead of us with Simon at her heels as we enter the kitchen. James wheels his chair along behind them, while Alex and I take up the rear of this cookie expedition. Alex’s grin lights his eyes, and he’s all white teeth and enthusiasm that’s semicontagious. “This is going to be fun, isn’t it, Abby?”

“Uh-huh.” She pulls herself up onto a seat at the counter and swings her little legs. Simon perches on the stool next to her and butts its head against her arm until she throws both around its body. “I love cookies. Kitty does too.”

They’re both so cute, and maybe I do have a slight touch of baby fever, or perhaps toddler fever. Or James fever, after this afternoon. I certainly have gotten warm in the face and other places each of the million times it’s crossed my mind since.

“I don’t think it does. Cats don’t eat cookies.” James tells her, getting as close to the kitchen counter as possible. He lets go of the wheels with a humph. “Can I get a hand please, Myra?”

“This one does.” Abby giggles. “You’ll see.”

“There’s not really enough room for a competition in your kitchen, James.” I have no clue if Alex can bake, but surely he has the potential to show up his new boss. And that, coupled with how hard it will be for James to work in the kitchen with his injuries, is enough for me to try to put an end to this competition before it begins. What is he trying to accomplish with this display of bravado anyhow?

“I’ve got it.” Alex jumps to James’s aid before I have a chance. Wrapping an arm around James’s chest, he lifts him onto his feet.

“I asked Myra to help,” James gripes.

“It’s just as easy for me to aid you,” Alex continues to help him onto a stool.

“That’s not the point.” James scowls, deep grooves carved across his forehead. “I didn’t ask you to assist me. I asked Myra. Just because she thinks you can take her position doesn’t mean you can. Besides, I didn’t ask to be helped out of the chair.”

“Yes, but we can take the chair back into the living room and there will be plenty of room for baking cookies this way.” Alex wheels the chair out the way we came.

“He has a point. There’s not enough space for three chefs in this kitchen. How about I bake the cookies and you talk to Alex about his ideas?” There, maybe I can save him from burning down his kitchen and firing his new assistant all in the same day.

“Nope. Abby wants a cookie competition, don’t you, Abby?”

“Please.” She claps her hands, which makes Simon blink and meow since Abby’s little hands are so close to the cat’s nose.

“See. So let’s get to it. Winner has to buy the loser a drink.”

“All right.” If he wants to be shown up by his new assistant, who am I to get in the way?

“Okay.” Alex slaps and rubs his hands together as he moves to the pantry. “Let’s see what we’ve got to work with.”

While I collect bowls and measuring cups and wooden spoons, Alex surprisingly wrangles the ingredients we need for this crazy competition. Although maybe it’s not so shocking that someone as organized as James would have all the staples of his favorite cookie on hand, just waiting for me to put my hand to baking. We’re both so good at anticipating the other’s wants, we’re practically symbiotic. In everything except how I feel about him. But maybe that’s changing. He was jealous this afternoon. Is that why he’s putting himself through this baking ordeal?

“Abby.” James lowers his voice to a conspirator’s level. “Do you want to be on my team? I’ll let you lick the spoon.”

“Yay!” She bounces on her seat, beaming.

“Great,” he says, and then I swear I hear him mutter under his breath, “I’m going to need all the help I can get.”

An hour later, I’m done with the whole freaking rivalry between James and Alex. The range hood fan whirs loudly, sucking what’s left of the smoke out of the air. Two plates of cookies sit in front of Abby, who is now dressed in her pajamas. The third lot, James and Abby’s effort, lie in a charred, crumbly mess at the bottom of the sink as Alex whistles a funeral dirge under his breath. James is irked, his whole body vibrating with tension while he glares at his assistant. How the two of them are supposed to work together is beyond me. Worse, I can’t quite blame James for being irritated, even if he’s overreacting.

“Why don’t you try a cookie?” I push the plates closer to Abby.

“Two,” she says. “I have to try two.” Then she wrinkles her nose. “But I’m not going to try Uncle James’s because they’re burnt.”

“That’s right.” I smile at James, an attempt at sympathy I’m not sure he notices. “Which means that either Alex or I have to buy your uncle a drink.”

I hold my breath and purse my lips as the little girl bites into first one cookie and then another. Alex, it turns out, can bake, but I need to win to save James from an uncomfortable date with a man he doesn’t have the patience for in his current state. I’ve never seen him act like a testosterone-filled bull before, bumping heads and puffing up his chest like he wants to beat on it and remind us all that he’s the boss.