Page 76 of From Best Friend to Bride
Did he have to say it like that?
Was he trying to kill me?
“Is that how you speak to your husband? You’re supposed to say, ‘there’s my handsome husband’ when I say something that nice.”
“Frederick.” I leant on the bar opposite him, propping my chin up on my hands, and smiled sweetly. “Absolutely not.”
His grin widened, and he reached over to twist a lock of my hair around his finger. “Aw, and here I thought you were finally going to show me some love.”
This brat.
“Hey, Si? Pass me that lemonade gun there.” I straightened up and held out my hand. “A customer here needs to cool down.”
Si laughed and blocked my access to it. “Please don’t soak the customers, Miss Manager.”
“That’s Mrs Manager to you,” Fred said teasingly.
“Oh, my apologies.” He mock bowed, adding all the possible dramatic flair. “LadyManager.”
“Fuck me dead,” I muttered, pushing off the bar. “How quickly can I write a resignation letter?”
Si’s eyes widened. “Why are you going to do that? No. You can’t leave me, kiddo.”
“Hey, if my wife wants to be a kept woman, she can be.” Fred leant right over the bar and lightly poked my cheek. “I’m a very rich man, you know.”
“I don’t care,” Si said. “You can marry my manager, but you can’t steal her from me.”
“Aww, Si.” I touched his arm. “I didn’t know you loved me that much.”
He blinked at me. “If you left, I’d have to do a lot more work around here.”
I dropped my hand and stepped back, then shoved him to see to a customer at the other end of the bar. “You can do some right now. Myhandsome husbandis here to see me.”
He walked off, laughing so loudly his shoulders shook, and I slumped against the bar by Fred.
“What do you want?”
“I came to see my pretty wife.” His blue eyes twinkled behind his glasses. “Aren’t I allowed to do that?”
If he called me pretty one more time, there was a chance I’d just collapse on the spot.
“You’ve never called me pretty before. Why start now?”
“Hmm.” He tilted his head to the side. “One of the guys I had a meeting with today congratulated me on my marriage and offered me a tip. He said the easiest way to get his wife to melt and forgive him was to call her ‘my pretty wife,’ so I thought I’d see what kind of effect it had on you.”
“Have you done something that requires my forgiveness?”
“Not yet, but who knows when I will? I’m just figuring out my game plan.”
“Oh, if only all men were as organised as you,” I said flatly.
“Well?”
“Well, what?”
He took my hand and brought it close to his face, linking our fingers together. “‘My pretty wife.’ Are you melting?”
“Like a snowman in the North Pole.”
