Next-Door Nanny

NEXT-DOOR NANNY AN AGE-GAP, GRUMPY SINGLE DAD ROMANCE SOPHIE TAYLOR CONTENTS 1. Bianca 2. Jackson 3. Bianca 4. Jackson 5. Bianca 6. Jackson 7. Bianca 8. Jackson 9. Bianca 10. Jackson 11. Bianca 12. Jackson 13. Bianca 14. Jackson 15. Bianca 16. Jackson 17. Bianca 18. Jackson 19. Bianca 20. Jackson 21. Bianca 22. Jackson Epilogue Next Book 1 BIANCA My hands are shaking, my palms are sweating, and I can barely hear the roar of cars passing by in traffic as I stand outside the brick building that I’ve been dreaming of for years. The Contessa’s Basket – my uncle’s pride and joy. It’s an understated yet upscale Italian restaurant, beloved by locals and tourists alike for over fifteen years. Its stellar reputation is built on unpretentious yet elevated cuisine and an unmatched selection of hard-to-find Italian wines. My legs feel stiff as I start walking. I step inside and immediately my senses are bombarded with smells of red wine reduction, garlic, fennel, and spicy pork and chicken sausage (a specialty here, made in-house). I close my eyes and savor the smells I’ve grown up with. Truly, coming here feels like returning home. I take in the white tablecloths and crystal stemware, freshly polished and gleaming on the tables, the candles ready to be lit. The restaurant is neat as a pin, as usual, ready for a night of dining magic. My heart swells inside my chest as I take in the sights and sounds of what will soon be my new workplace. I can’t wait to start working here and being a part of the local legend that is The Contessa’s Basket! “Bianca! How are you?” A familiar voice disrupts my fantasy and I turn to look at the portly, salt-and-pepper, cherub-faced man I’ve come to love like my own father. “Uncle Edward,” I exclaim and fly into his arms. “What brings you here?” he asks and pulls back. “I just wanted to come by and see how things are going,” I smile at him. He wipes his hands down his front and looks around wildly. “Come, come,” he says and ushers me towards the door that reads Employees Only. “So, what really brings you here, Bianca?” he asks when we’re away from the rest of the staff. “I thought you’d still be celebrating your newfound freedom after finishing culinary school at the CIA.” That’s the Culinary Institute of America, considered one of the best, and most competitive, culinary schools in America. They have two campuses, one on the West Coast, and one on the East Coast, situated on the Hudson River just outside NYC. That’s the program I’ve just graduated from. I can cook anything under the sun, but my real passion is desserts. “I’m ready to get to work,” I tell him. “You know how long I’ve been dreaming of working here for you, and now that I’m done with culinary school…” I say excitedly and drape my arm through his. “Just imagine, Uncle, all the pastries I’ll make from my nonna’s treasured recipes. I’ll be your right hand. We’ll make magic together. Just think…” “Whoa!” Uncle chuckles and grips my shoulders. “Slow your roll, kiddo.” “I’m sorry, I’m just too excited,” I say. The blood is rushing so loudly in my ears I can barely hear my thoughts. “When do you think I could start?” He gives me a meaningful stare before he sighs and wipes his hand down his face. “About that.” “Uncle,” I say in a softer voice and walk closer to him. He walks further away and toward the window on the other side of the wall overlooking the coast of Crystal Shores. “Bianca, honey,” he says and turns to me. I know what he’s going to say before he does and I gulp against the lump in my throat. His downcast eyes tell me everything. “You do want me to work here, right?” “Bianca, it’s not that you’re not skilled, it’s just…you’re not ready yet,” he says and reaches for my hand. I shrink back. “What? Uncle, I just graduated from the CIA. You told me that if I went to culinary school then one day, I could work with you, and now that day has come and you’ve changed your mind?” “It’s not that I’ve changed my mind, but I never said I’d give you your first job out of school. It would be better if you have a little bit of experience first. How about applying to some other, smaller restaurants and getting your feet wet first?” “Why can’t I shadow you and get my experience here?” I can’t believe what I’m hearing. All my hard work. I’ve wanted nothing but this since I moved in with him after my parents died in a car accident seven years ago. I’ve practically grown up in this restaurant and he encouraged me onto this path. Now that I’m here, I don’t understand. “It’s not just about the experience,” he says and his eyes droop as he walks closer to me. “Then what is it about?” My voice is shaky, and my eyes start to burn from the tears forcing their way to my eyelids. “What will everyone think? They know you’re my niece. I’m already giving you a place to live. I don’t want it to seem like I’m showing favoritism. Besides, I don’t usually hire anyone right out of school.” “It shouldn’t matter what everyone thinks,” I reply, and swipe the stubborn tears brimming in my eyes. “What about me? I need this.” “Sweetheart,” he says and exhales sharply. “You know I want this for you, but I can’t…” I shake my head and back away slowly. “This was supposed to be you and me,” I say, and choke on the words. His cheeks sag and he stares at me through droopy eyes. “Don’t leave like this, Bianca. Please, understand where I’m coming from.” “I get it,” I tell him and pause at the door, with my back turned. “I