Page 24 of Bad Nanny

“It just makes me jump. The anticipation for the pop is the worst.” I hoped I wasn’t making her a fellow biscuit can scaredy-cat. “It won’t hurt you.”

“I hope not.” Gabriel walked down the stairs, his face unreadable as usual.

“Daddy! We’re making pizzas.” She waved her hand, beckoning him to join.

Please don’t ruin this,I begged him with my eyes.

I bit my lip as he stopped at the edge of the island and puthis hands on his hips. “You’re making pizza without me? I’m hurt.” He stuck out his bottom lip to pout at his daughter, and I nearly fainted.

Who was this man? Did he just have a conference call with his anti-asshole sponsor?

“You can help,” Delaney offered with hope laced in her voice.

Gabriel walked to the pantry and stepped inside it, shutting the door.

Delaney looked at me in confusion, and I shrugged. “Maybe he went in there to cry.”

She fought a laugh but failed. “Daddy only cries when Shadow can’t get up inHomeward Bound.”

The pantry door opened, and Gabriel emerged in a green apron that said “CEO Chief Eating Officer” on it. I had so many things to say about his new accessory but bit my tongue.

“Laney, I really hope you aren’t making fun of your dad’s soft heart for the old golden retriever.” He looked at me, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“Nooo.” She shook her head vehemently as she drew out the word.

Gabriel tugged on the end of Delaney’s ponytail before going to the sink to wash his hands.

“Okay, let’s do this.” I still had the tube of biscuits in my hand. “It’s kind of like ripping off a Band-Aid.”

I moved my arm away from myself as I let the paper unravel, but nothing happened.

“Do you want me to open them?” Gabriel stood on the other side of Delaney, watching me in amusement.

“No. I’m a big girl.” I wasn’t about to let biscuits beat me. I grabbed the can in both hands and twisted, but nothing happened.

“I think you’re supposed to use a spoon.” Gabriel grabbed a spoon from the drawer and handed it to me. “Or whack it on the counter.”

“I might be better with the whacking than the spooning,” I muttered, running my thumb along the seam that showed no signs of breaking.

“That’s what she said.”

I glanced up at him, shocked he’d pull out the one-liner that never got old. “You did not just say that.”

“What did she say?” Delaney looked back and forth between us, trying to make sense of our conversation.

Before we got into trouble, I hit the seam on the edge of the counter, the pop of the air escaping causing me to jump and squeal. “Phew. That was rough.”

Delaney put her hand on my arm. “It’s okay, Josie. Daddy says we are all scared of something. Right, Daddy?”

“Right. Some people are scared of heights or spiders. Others are scared of biscuits. But the important thing is that we work on overcoming our fears, just like Josie.”

Would it be inappropriate to throw a raw biscuit at his head?

As we set to work on our pizzas, I couldn’t help but sneak glances at him. His methodical way of flattening the biscuit, spreading the sauce and cheese, and arranging the pepperoni slices evenly was adorable and ridiculous. He was practically measuring the spaces between the toppings down to the millimeter.

“All those toppings are going into your mouth. They don’t have to be perfect.”

He looked over Delaney’s head at me, a cocky smile on his face. “I only accept perfection in my mouth, and so should you.”

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