Sophie
“I don’t have the first clue what I’m doing.” I complain, throwing my hands up in exasperation.
We’re in the back of Selene’s cafe. Drake is sitting at the kitchen island watching me fight with a lump of dough on a floured cutting board, and unless I’m very much mistaken he’s fighting the impulse to laugh.
“It isn’t funny.” I huff, “I’m not a cook. I’m not a baker – I shouldn’t be the one to take over this place.”
Drake arches his dark brows, “You didn’t want to move into the Pack House, and you didn’t want my money, which means you need a job to make rent.” He reminds me. “This is a job, and a good one at that.”
“Yes,” I confirm, agreeing with his logic, “but I can’t do this job. I have zero qualifications – amat
