Page 3 of My Not So Wicked Boss (My Not So Wicked 3)

“I’m Henry,” he replied. Forget the sexy British accent, his adorable one was ten times better. He held up his bear. “This is my teddy, George.” His teddy bear looked well-loved with matted-down fur and his bowtie askew.

I shook George’s paw. “It’s nice to meet you, George.”

Henry giggled, making me wish Chloe was a toddler again, or for another little one running around. I would have had another baby in a second if I could afford to and, you know, if it didn’t involve the opposite sex.

“We are going to get ice cream,” he said so grown-up like.

“That sounds yummy. What kind of ice cream do you like?”

“Butterscotch.” He smiled.

“I’ll have to try that flavor.”

Henry nodded and I stood to find Mr. Wickham gazing thoughtfully at me. He wasn’t helping with the pulse racing thing.

“I’ll leave you to it.” Evelyn wagged her brows before exiting.

“Please have a seat.” I waved to the chairs in front of my desk, trying to maintain my composure.

Mr. Wickham took a seat, but Henry had other ideas; he followed me to mine.

“Henry, come sit next to me,” Mr. Wickham kindly directed.

Henry grinned mischievously while shaking his head no. He held his arms out to me. One look at his big brown eyes with lashes to die for, and I could hardly refuse. “Do you mind?” I asked Mr. Wickham.

“Not at all. My nephew is . . .” he swallowed. “Is a precocious tyke.”

I didn’t think that’s what he was going to say, but no matter. I picked the little guy up along with his bear and set him on my lap and wondered why he had his nephew with him. Bringing a toddler to a bank wasn’t usually a wise choice.

“He’s adorable.”

“He gets that from me.” Mr. Wickham deadpanned.

I started to respond with my normal sarcasm toward the opposite sex, but I stopped myself. “What can I help you with today?”

Mr. Wickham leaned forward as if he were trying to get a better look at me. “I’m going to be in the States for a while and my financial advisor recommended I open an account here to make things easier.”

“We have a few options. Let me get you a brochure and we can go over those and see what best fits your needs.”

Henry didn’t want to be forgotten. “I’m three.” He held up three fingers.

I wanted to kiss those cute fingers but thought that was even more unprofessional than holding him on my lap. “You are a very big boy for three.”

He puffed out his chest.

I reached into the desk drawer for the brochure. “What brings you to the States?” I tried not to stare at the handsome man. I couldn’t get over how much he looked like Taron Taylor. He was even British, which was strange. I had to say, though, that I was relieved he wasn’t my favorite author. I had promised my girlfriends if I ever met him, I’d try to get to know him. I’d known the odds were in my favor of that never happening, so I’d agreed to appease them. They worried I was going to die an old maid. The odds were highly in favor of that, considering I hadn’t been on a date since my ex-husband left me and our daughter twelve years ago.

“I have some personal and business matters to attend to.” He kept it vague on purpose, given his stiff body language.

It didn’t offend me that he didn’t divulge anything personal. I could relate. I slid a brochure of our different account types across the desk. “Here are—”

“My mummy and daddy are gone,” Henry wailed unexpectedly.

My head shot up and caught Mr. Wickham’s defeated eyes. He sighed and hung his head. Meanwhile, I tried to comfort poor Henry, who began to cry into my bosom. I wrapped my arms around him, hoping his parents were on vacation or something, but Mr. Wickham’s demeanor said otherwise, and it broke my heart.

“My sister and her husband were in a car accident,” Mr. Wickham spoke low, refusing to finish the rest. I could guess. “Come here, Henry.” Mr. Wickham stood to retrieve his grieving nephew.

“No!” Henry refused, snuggling further into me.

Mr. Wickham looked at a loss of what to do. “I’m new at this.”

“It’s fine. I don’t mind keeping him, if it’s all right with you.”

He sat back down, relieved. “I was only supposed to be the fun uncle.”

“I’m very sorry for your and Henry’s loss.” I stroked Henry’s dark curls.

“Thank you, love.” He suddenly seemed uncomfortable. “Do you mind if we move along? I have several appointments to attend to.”

“Not at all.” I kept one arm around Henry, who was shuddering against me. Poor baby. I used my free hand to point at the brochure. “If you could tell me a bit about your goals and profession, I can make a solid suggestion on the right account for you.”

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