Page 56 of The Christmas Wife

I bend my knees, thrust my face into hers. "Do it," I command.

She opens her mouth, then seems to change her mind. Turning, she stalks off.

Thank fuck.

Can't let her out of my sight; got to keep her safe from anything untoward, and that includes strange men sniffing about her.

Hunter glances after her, "Everything okay?" He frowns.

"Shut the fuck up." I growl at him.

He turns to me, "You’re Weston?"

I stiffen.

"Dr Weston Kincaid, I presume?"

"How the fuck do you know my name?"

"I’m a friend of Damian’s."

"Hmph," I glare at him. "And you know him, how?"

"Our fathers are good friends."

"What are you doing here?"

"The same thing as you, I assume."

I frown.

He chuckles, "I am home for the holidays. I am also the MP for the area."

"Right." I roll my shoulders, "That why you were here? Campaigning?"

"Among other things." He smiles, "Anything you need." He holds out his hand, I ignore it.

"Stay away from her."

"You got it." He keeps his hand extended, "Take it, you never know when you might need help."

I ignore his hand while I stare at his face and something clicks, "You’re Hunter Whittington?"

He tilts his head.

"You’re standing for the upcoming elections."

A genuine smile splits his face, "Whew." He mock mops his brow. "My PR isn’t that bad then."

I jerk my chin. So, he’s a well-known politician, albeit one who’s being tipped to be the next Prime Minister.We’ll see.

I turn to leave.

"Make sure you stock up for the next few days."

"Why's that?" I ask.

"The weather," he says. "There’s a cold spell coming on."

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