This new story I'm working on will be much longer and lighter in tone than my other ones. It will be told mostly in Bella's POV, but will contain others' later.

Disclaimer: I own nothing Twilight. I merely play with the characters for entertainment. No copyright infringement intended.

The Accidental Nanny

Bella

I Hate Kids

"Ow!" I quickly brought my stinging finger to my mouth and sucked on the pain.

Eric turned the cold water handle on the faucet and leaned on the sink with his arms crossed. "How many times is that this week?"

I walked over next to him and pulled my finger out of my mouth to free it to tell him, "Shut up." I put my burned finger under the stream of running cool water.

"Really, a kitchen is no place for someone so accident prone."

"They're not accidents. I do it on purpose to garner the attention of handsome men." I batted my lashes at him.

"Handsome gay men?" he questioned with his usual flair.

"Yes, because they're the only men who I can truly love," I returned with equal flair.

Eric leaned in for an embrace and said with exaggerated sympathy, "Oh, honey, you need to get out more." I smiled.

He reached over to the side to grab and open the first aid kit. "It's still out from the last time you hurt yourself," he had to tell me.

I turned the water off while he put healing ointment on a little red spot on my index finger. Then he bandaged it. It matched the bandage on the back of my hand from when I bumped the steamer yesterday.

I had to admit, getting your drinks from bandaged hands wasn't the most appetizing, but then again, neither was getting them from cut and blistering hands.

Some might call clumsiness being careless. I liked to call it being focused on other things.

And Eric was right. A kitchen was no place for someone so focused on other things. But I handled mainly cups and liquids, not knives and big pots. True, those cups tended to be filled with hot coffee, but that's what lids were for. And yes, it was also true that somehow I seemed to be 'lid-proof,' evidenced by the number of drinks I've managed to spill, but Eric was one of my best friends as well as my superior at Twilight Cafe so mostly I got away with it. And I had to point out, I was very good about not burning or spilling things on other people, just on myself or inanimate objects like the poor floor who couldn't complain.

And thankfully, Eric did most of the scheduling so he tended to not give me the morning rush shift. I was definitely not a morning person. Besides, who wanted their life-saving coffee spilled in front of them at the start of the day? It was as much for the customers and the coffee shop as it was for me. I especially liked when he scheduled himself on days with me. Today being one of them.

I was wiping down the front counter when a small, dark-haired boy walked through the door. I put the towel away and watched as he confidently sauntered up to the counter where I was waiting. He took his time perusing the menu above me.

I expected his caregiver to enter the shop but the people just walked right by outside.

"I'll have a coffee, black," he said.

"And do you have money to pay for this coffee, black?" I asked him. Normally, I wouldn't converse with small children, but it was slow at the moment and I had some time to kill.

"Do you always ask your customers if they have money?" he returned, not missing a beat.

I liked his attitude, so I gave him some of my own. "Just the ones whose piggy banks are probably bigger than they are."

He glared his eyes at me for a second then calmed them just as suddenly. "My brother has money and he can pay you when he comes to get me."

"Fine," I glared back. "Have a seat, and I'll bring it to you."

The boy walked away and took a seat at one of our bigger tables. There were only three other patrons at the moment and they all were seated at their respective appropriately-sized tables.

Eric, who had been stocking fresh pastries while I was helping our tiny new customer came over to me where I was filling a hot cup.

"What's with 'Little Orphan Andy?'" he asked.

I shrugged my shoulders. "Says his brother's coming."

"Let's hope so. I so don't need to be dealing with the police right now." Who was he kidding? He loved drama.

"Grab me a chocolate croissant, will you?" I asked him as I poured another cup with cold liquid this time.

Eric walked over to put one on a plate for me. I put the two cups, one hot and one cold on a tray. When he came back over to me, he put the plate on the tray for me.

"I'm going to take my break now," I told him.

"What are you doing?" he questioned.

"Can I not take my break now?"

"Of course you can, but you hate children."

"Yeah," I agreed, "but he's also a customer."

"A paying one? Did he have money, because I didn't hear the register."

"Take it out of my tips," I said, though the way I fumbled orders and spilled them, it was a wonder I got any in the first place. It wasn't my fault coffee orders were so complicated and people were so neurotically specific about them.

"Is this because I said you needed to get out more? Because this isn't what I meant," he joked. "I mean, sure he looks cute now and you can mold him into the man you want, but this would require a very long-term commitment. And I know you hate commitment, too."

"Funny," I said sarcastically. I picked up the tray very carefully and started working my way around the counter.

"Just remember, your building doesn't allow pets," Eric called after me. I humored him with a nod and an amused smile.

I walked over to the large table where the small boy was sitting alone and set down the tray, proud I had made it without a spill. It's the little things in life that gives one pleasures.

I put the dish and cups, hot in front of him, cold in front of me, on the table and put the tray aside and sat down.

He looked at me with his big, questioning hazel eyes. Then they narrowed and he said, "I didn't say you could sit with me."

"Would you rather I kick you out?" I returned unfazed. I slid the plate with the pastry toward him.

His mouth opened as if to say something, but he thought better of it and closed it. He looked down at the chocolate croissant instead and took a bite out of it – a much better use of his mouth. And he seemed to be enjoying it as he didn't look back up at me till he took a few more mouthfuls and put it back down. I noticed he had eaten roughly half the pastry.

I looked at the big table he had chosen for himself, and possibly his brother, and I asked him, "You expecting a large party?"

He was still chewing when he looked at me with his big, confused doe eyes again. But this time, there was a sort of expectancy and loneliness in them that surprised me. I realized the question might be taken the wrong way by a young child and took back what I said as best I could. I shook my head slightly and said, "Never mind."

He looked annoyed and suspicious of me, possibly thinking I was making fun of him, but he let it go without further inquiry. The boy instead took the cup to take a sip. "This isn't coffee," he looked back with annoyance and furrowed brows, a very adult expression I was familiar with. Getting orders wrong was practically a habit for me now, but this time it was on purpose.

"It's hot cocoa," I clarified.

"I wanted coffee, black," he reiterated.

"Mm," I pursed my lips and hummed pretending to think about it before abruptly saying, "no."

"Why not?" he demanded.

"'Cause coffee's not good for you. Nobody told you it'll stunt your growth? You look too puny to be stopping your growth now. Even I don't drink coffee."

He puffed out air incredulously. For such a young child, he managed awfully adult expressions. "You work in a coffee shop."

"So?" I said, more like the child in this situation. "Here, you want this instead?" I put my cold cup in front of him.

He looked down somewhat disgustedly and asked, "What's this?"

"Cold chocolate milk. It's very good with warm croissants. We have the best chocolate croissants in town."

He looked at me as if I'd suggested he kiss my feet or something. "I'm not a kid," he said emphatically.

Which just meant it was the opposite. And I told him so very plainly. "That's exactly what you are."

It just made him madder. "I asked for coffee. I want coffee. You are a worker. You're supposed to do what I say."

Spoken like a true brat. "Do your parents know you talk to people this way?" It was such a cliché adult thing to say to a child, but his attitude had to have come from somewhere.

He answered defiantly, "My parents are dead."

I blinked a couple of times and glided over what he said. "Your brother, then." I wasn't here to sympathize with the kid, though I could have.

I knew he meant to shock me with his revelation, but I think I shocked him by my refusal of a reaction. But he gathered himself quickly and threw back, "Of course he knows. And when he gets here, you're going to be in trouble."

I couldn't say the kid wasn't persistent. "Really?"

"He's going to fire you," he said with calm hatred.

"Sorry to break it to you, kid, but I don't work for your brother."

That didn't seem to bother him. "He'll buy this place and then fire you."

I didn't know if this kid knew what he was saying or not. His tone and demeanor said he did. It was kind of scary, actually. Not the content of his threat – I figured his brother was wealthy and he thought such things were feasible and easily doable, not unlikely for a child's way of thinking. But this kid's sureness and cool venom was something to behold. I was beginning to wonder what this brother of his was like.

In the meantime, I tried to mirror his dark charm. "If he buys this place, I'll quit. And then you can have all the coffee, as black as you want, all day long. How's that? You can fill a pool and swim in it. You can plug up your nose with coffee beans, for all I care." I could think of a better place to stick them, if he weren't just a child. "Until then, I'm not serving you coffee, kiddo. Deal with it."

He was seething. I could tell because his hands were curled up in tiny little shaking fists and his face was all tensed, and he looked like he was about to knock over the cups, or possibly start bawling.

But I didn't balk. I stared him right back down. I wasn't going to be outdone by a snotty child.

That's when the front entrance opened and someone called, "Emmett!" to end our showdown.

I'm not proud to say I broke the stare first to look over to the voice. A blonde man in a dark suit came rushing over to us. He knelt down on one knee next to the sitting boy and said, "Emmett, are you all right?"

But Emmett just continued to glare at me as he had been doing before we were interrupted.

I didn't know what compelled me to do so, but I winked at the boy. I knew he hated me at the moment, but I felt like our little game had come to a premature end. I had to admit though, it did give me a sense of one-upmanship if only I acted like I got the upper hand in the end. After all, he was still just a kid.

"He's fine," I answered for the kid named Emmett. That earned me another point, in my book.

The man turned to me and I could see he was cute. He had slightly long, curly hair and clear blue eyes. He nodded and said, "Thank you," very calmly, a turn from the concern he had in his voice a second ago. He stood up and I did the same.

Two more men in suits and a frazzled looking woman had come in after the first man. Apparently, this boy was expecting a large party.

The woman with long blonde hair came rushing over to the boy practically crying and fussing over him. "Emmett, how could you just run off like that? We were all so worried." She definitely looked it. The woman kept running her hands over Emmett checking for signs of, I don't know, dirt, cuts, weapons? And all the while, she kept glancing back up to the men with frightened and worried looks. She was obviously afraid of being in trouble with them. And Emmett pulling away from her touch didn't seem to be helping her nerves.

I looked over to the other two men, again both very handsome in their own way. The closer of the two was about the same height as the first man, probably close to six feet tall. He also had blonde hair, though not as light and not as long or curly. He also looked more muscular under his suit than the other two. I couldn't tell what color his eyes were because he had kept his sunglasses on, but I had a feeling he was checking on me behind them. There was a tenseness in his body that wasn't apparent in the other two.

The third man's hair was a dark brown, starkly contrasted from the other two, and that wasn't the only difference. He stood farthest from me, yet I could tell he was slightly taller than the other two men. He was looking down towards Emmett and the fussing lady with detached annoyance. Then he spoke. "I'll be outside." He turned towards the door and started walking.

The man in sunglasses turned his head after him, then turned to look at the first man.

The blonder man told him, "I'll take care of this."

This seemed to give Sunglasses confirmation as he nodded and trailed after the brown-haired man who was standing outside on his cell phone. He had managed to put on his own sunglasses. And I had to admit, he looked like an ad for sunglasses or cell phones or suits standing in the sunlight like that. His dark brown hair seemed to glow in the sun's rays and reflect a much more brilliant color than I saw seconds before.

And when his friend joined him outside, I couldn't help feeling somewhat in awe at their hotness. I was a sucker for men in nice suits. Then I turned my attention to a man in a suit who was much closer.

"Lauren, will you take Emmett to the car?" he said to the woman.

"Of course," she managed to answer. She tried to gently put her hands on Emmett's shoulders to help him to his feet from his chair, but he rebuffed her attempts. He brushed her hands off and stood on his own. She looked nervously to the blonde man and then to me.

I felt sorry for her. I could tell she was a pretty woman, though she didn't look it at the moment. Her hair was in a tousled ponytail and her makeup was wearing off. She had tried to dress nicely, I saw, but inappropriately for a caregiver of a small child. I assumed she was some sort of sitter or teacher since Emmett had not mentioned a sister. Whether Emmett was telling the truth about his parents being dead, I didn't think Lauren was his mother because she seemed too young and too scared of her own sons, if one of these three men was Emmett's brother.

Emmett gave me one last glare as he passed by, and I said with just a little bit of glee as I waved, "Bye, kiddo."

I was surprised he didn't say anything else to me before he left with the poor woman trailing after him. I figured he himself was too afraid of his brother and the men to retaliate in front of them.

The man turned to me and said, "Thank you again, Ms…?"

"Bella," I answered. "Just Bella is fine."

"Bella," he gave the slightest of smiles and I thought him handsomer. "I hope Emmett wasn't too much trouble."

"Not at all," I politely lied.

I peered past this man who I realized hadn't given me his name in return, and I saw the two men outside in sunglasses saying something to each other. Then Emmett, Lauren, and the blonde man walked down the street till I couldn't see them from inside the café, leaving the dark-haired man by himself.

I looked back in front of me to realize the blonder man had taken out his wallet. He pulled out a twenty and put it down on the table next to the cups.

"Let me get you your change, Mr…?" It was my turn to use his trick.

"Jasper," he smiled, fully this time. I think I sighed quietly. "Just Jasper is fine. And I don't need change, thank you."

"Thank you," I couldn't help smiling back at him, and not just because of the tip he was leaving me.

"Well, goodbye, Bella. It was nice to meet you."

"Same," I said back. And I immediately regretted not saying something that required more words.

He left to join his friend outside, who promptly got off the phone again. They exchanged a few words and they walked away in the direction the others went before.

I stood there looking outside for a few more seconds, then collected the dishes and the twenty on the tray and walked toward the counter where Eric was waiting for me eagerly. I stayed in front of the counter like a customer while Eric was behind and I passed the tray to him.

His eyes were starry-eyed and wide. "Oh my god. Next time a kid comes in, I'm serving him," he said. I laughed. "It was like a frigging GQ shoot in here."

Now that it was the two of us again I could let down my cool demeanor. "I know, right! God, did you see them outside in the sunlight?"

"I think I went blind a little," he said. "So which one's the brother? Or were they all his brothers? Tell me they were all brothers. Can you imagine that family photo?"

"I don't know," I shrugged. "He only mentioned one brother, singular. I'm assuming it was the one I was talking to. Though it could be the one with dark hair, like him, I guess. I don't know," I repeated.

"But he was outside the whole time."

"Yeah, beats me," I shook my head. "Your guess is as good as mine."

"They didn't tell you anything?" he prodded.

"Nope," I popped the 'p.' "Just the guy I talked to, his name is Jasper."

Eric made a short moaning sound. "Even his name is cool." I smiled.

He picked up the twenty dollar bill and snapped it between his hands. He rang up the bill for the drinks and croissant and put the rest in the tip jar, while I put the dirty dishes away to be cleaned.

Then we spent the rest of the work day in between serving customers and cleaning up inventing names for the other two mystery men. We came up with quite a few, including Charles Chesterton Chesterfield III, Maximilian Millionaire, and Monty Moneybags.

All in all, a very productive day.