After tossing and turning, I gave up trying to sleep. When I heard my sister and niece moving around, I rolled out of bed and updated them about my marriage plans. I also warned them that James would be coming around this morning.
I know they’re still digesting it.
I then rushed to shower and get ready.
When the knock on the door comes this morning, I’m still not at full speed. Freya beats me to the door.
My overprotective niece, who’s going through a goth phase, is all fire and sass as she stares down my boss, I mean, my husband-to-be.
"James Hamilton." He holds out a hand.
He’s wearing formal slacks and a full sleeve button down with a jacket. Like a ruthless businessman who’s going to walk into a meeting and decimate his opponents. The power that radiates off him punchesme in the chest. He’s so sinfully gorgeous he looks like Hades come to life.
I brace myself against the doorframe of my bedroom, taking him in.
Then wince when Freya ignores his proffered hand. "Come in."
My niece heads to the armchair in the living room and takes a seat.
James takes her cue and folds his big body into the settee at a right angle to her chair.
I watch James look around my home and see it through his eyes.
The mismatched furniture which Briar and I picked up at yard sales, the picture frames with photos of me, Briar and Freya, shoes scattered about, the different colored cushions on the settees, the bookshelf with the secondhand books we’ve collected over the years. It opens into the kitchen on one side. Directly in front of him is a short hallway which leads to the two bedrooms and a shared bathroom. Wonder if he judges the apartment for being modest?
It’s a far cry from the meticulously organized kitchen he likes to keep.
Bet it triggers his need for perfection. I chuckle inwardly.
"You must be Freya." He fixes her with the direct gaze that has reduced many of my team members in the kitchen to nervous wrecks.
Not my niece, though.
She folds her arms across her chest and glares right back at him.
"You’re a cook?"
I cough.
Damn, this is going to make him throw a fit. He’s probably going to lose his cool and growl at her. I take a step forward ready to interrupt. But to my surprise he shoots me an amused glance, and a look which says relax.
I still.
He softens his gaze and leans back. "I’m a chef, yes."
"You work Auntie Harper too hard."
I rub my temple. I may have complained a little—okay, a lot—about the workload to Briar. Freya must have overheard me. She may only be ten, but she has the awareness of someone twice her age.
"Do I now?" James’ voice is serious.
He’s giving his entire attention to Freya. Treating her like he would an adult. My respect for him skyrockets. I don’t know if he’s interacted with other preteens, but he’s doing the right thing.
Freya nods solemnly. "Last night, she came home so tired, she didn’t even make it to her bedroom. She fell asleep on the couch." She points to where he’s sitting.
He raises his gaze to mine.
"Here?" He touches the spot next to where he’s sitting and runs his palm in a slow circle over it.
