Page 5 of Win a Date with a Baker

Great. Just, great.

This grumpy, argumentative, antisocial man is the internet-famous baker I’ve been following for months. And as of last week, I paid way too much money at a charity auction for a date with him.

Apparently, my sister isn’t the only one who is bad at picking out men.

It looks like I’ve won a date with a bonafide jerk.

TWO

TYLER

“Absolutely not.”

Rachel doesn’t even glance up from the bakery’s social media dashboard. “You’ve said that three times already.”

“I’ll say it a fourth if it gets through to you.”

“It won’t.”

I let out a long, aggravated breath and drag both hands down my face.

It’s barely ten in the morning. I’ve already been awake for seven hours.

I’ve mixed mountains of dough. I’ve pulled three hundred brioche donuts out of the fryer. I’ve fixed a broken mixer. I’ve burned my thumb on caramel.

And somehow, my biggest headache of the day is still my little sister.

“I’m serious, Rach.”

“So am I.”

She taps away on her laptop from her usual perch at the corner of the prep table, somehow looking perfectly put together while I’m covered in flour and running on caffeine.

“You’ve got a dinner reservation at seven.”

I clench my jaw. “I know.”

“It’s one date. With a woman who paid a lot of money for charity.”

“I know.”

“So stop acting like I’m sending you to prison.”

“It feels pretty damn similar.”

She laughs. “You are so dramatic.”

I point my scraper at her. “No. You are dramatic.”

“I’m delightful.”

“You called me ‘Donut Daddy’ on the internet.”

“I didn’t.” Her grin widens. “I quoted a customer.”

“And put it on a fucking T-shirt.”

“They sold out.”