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He crosses his leg at the ankles and leans against the door frame.
Far too comfortable for my tastes. I really have work to do.
“Dinner, remember? You were quite insistent.”
Shit.
It’s Friday.
And no, I didn’t remember.
With the chaos of the week, I completely forgot. I haven’t even warned the women.
“I remembered,” I lie. “The dining room is down the hall and to the left. You will meet the women there. You’ve probably already seen some of the kids running around here.”
“You’re not coming?” he asks.
“You seem like a confident man. I’m sure you’re capable of introducing yourself.”
He dips his chin. “I am. I meant you’re not eating with us?”
Oh.
“It’s been a long day, and I still have lots of work to do.”
“I’m sure you can take a break.”
I really can’t.
He raises his wrist to look at his watch. “Aren’t you supposed to finish at five?”
I almost laugh.
Yes, my contract says my job is the typical nine to five, Monday to Friday, but to hell with contracted hours. Especially in a job like this. I’ve no doubt I will be here many nights until I’m ready for bed and weekends, too. Some things are more important, and I’m still settling in.
“Supposedto be, isn’t alwayswillbe. Problems don’t appear when I arrive at nine in the morning and miraculously disappear at five when I go home. Perhaps it’s different being a CEO.”
I’m sure it’s not.
He lifts his left shoulder, unaffected. “Perhaps. When’s the last time you ate?”
Now that he mentions it, my stomach growls, angry at me for the breakfast bar I had this morning and for missing lunch.
My guilt must be written on my face because he takes one large stride toward me. “Walk,” he demands like I’m a dog. “You’re going to eat with us. I won’t have you passing out on my watch.”
Charming.
“Really, I can’t.”
The smell of garlic wafting from the kitchen isn’t making my argument any easier, and my mouth waters.
“Fine,” I finally give in when his glare becomes unyielding.
A mop of dark hair comes crashing into Jake’s back. The boy’s giggling is interrupted briefly.
Not even looking up, he mutters, “Sorry, Dad. We’re playing chase.” He waves at me. “Hey, Claire.” His cheeks blush.
Adorable.
