Page 11 of My Not So Wicked Boss (My Not So Wicked 3)

Miles stepped closer, his guilty smile turning debonair, making me feel like I was having a series of mini strokes. That wouldn’t do. How could I work for someone who caused such a physiological response? Don’t even get me going on how his aqua eyes drew me in. Or his cologne. Whatever it was, I needed to find out and stay away from it at all cost. His spicy, warm smell was more than likely brain numbing. I had a laundry list of all the trouble intoxicating scents had gotten me into, starting with a tattoo my parents still didn’t know about and ending with becoming a single mother.

As I looked closer at Miles’s eyes, I was startled to see they were filled with remorse, like he knew he’d placed me in difficult spot. I had expected to find arrogance. Instead, I found I was more uncomfortable with his concern than Henry’s declaration.

“I may have been a bit presumptuous,” he stated.

I swallowed hard. His accent wasn’t doing my heart any favors. “More than a bit.”

“Please forgive me,” he sincerely begged.

His apology completely threw me off. I wasn’t used to men admitting they were wrong, so much so, I didn’t know how to respond. Instead, I did the intelligent thing and stared blankly at him, unfortunately, with my mouth hanging open. That had to be attractive.

He tilted his head, studying me like he had at the bank. “Hmm,” he muttered as if he totally got me, which was off-putting. “Why don’t we see what we can do to make Henry’s proclamation a reality.”

I got my vacant stare under control and responded, “I wonder where he got such an idea.”

Miles’s melodic laugh filled the café. “I do like you, Aspen. Come, let’s sit.” He waved his hand toward the corner booth.

That action had Brad, Sawyer, and Ryder jumping up like some chivalrous cavalry. Did they think Miles was luring me away? I supposed that meant I needed to make introductions. I gave my friends a wry grin. The women were all laughing and tugging on their husbands, trying to get them to sit down. I admit I was touched by their concern.

“Miles, would you mind meeting a few friends of mine first?”

Miles looked in the same direction as me. “Ah. I see your mates have come to check me out. Let’s not keep them waiting.”

“I didn’t know they would be here,” I sighed, somewhat embarrassed.

“No worries, it speaks volumes about the kind of person you must be.”

“And what kind is that?”

He gave me good once-over in my “motherly” outfit consisting of a cardigan and black ankle pants. I’d even started wearing granny panties for the fun of it. I think he was more interested, though, in the way his nephew clung to me. “As far as I can tell . . . lovely,” he admitted reluctantly.

I had no words, but my cheeks said it all. If I had to guess, I would say they were a nice shade of crimson. I covered it up by rubbing noses with Henry, who giggled. “Are you hungry?” I asked him.

“I want pizza!” he loudly voiced his preference.

I tapped his nose. “I don’t think they have pizza here, sweetie.”

Henry’s lip began to quiver.

Miles immediately cringed while huge crocodile tears leaked out of Henry’s gorgeous brown eyes.

“I’m mucking up this job,” Miles confessed with a heavy breath. “He won’t eat anything my chef prepares. I promised him pizza tonight.”

Did he say chef? I would come back to that later. I wiped Henry’s cheeks and kissed his forehead. “My parents are good friends with the owners. I’ll see what I can work out.” Surely they had what they needed in the kitchen to make pizza.

Miles’s broad shoulders, which had sagged in defeat, lifted, nicely showcasing his charcoal button down. “See how much we need you?” Miles was laying it on thick.

The entire exchange between Miles and me had not been lost on my friends, judging by how wide all their smirks were. When we arrived at their table near the hearth, I shifted Henry to my hip. My curves were at least good for something. I missed a toddler there.

Six sets of eyes darted between the beyond cute boy in my arms to the ridiculously handsome man standing next to me smiling with ease at my friends.

“Miles, these are my friends, Emma and Dr. Sawyer King.” I pointed to an ashen Emma, who had probably recently vomited given the only thing it looked like she had touched of her dinner was her bread. Normally she could eat the men under the table.

Sawyer stood up to shake Miles’s hand. Emma remained seated, smiling through her obvious discomfort. I hoped she felt better once her first trimester was over.

“It is a pleasure, Dr. and Mrs. King.” Miles took Sawyer’s hand, giving him a firm handshake.

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