Page 36 of His Christmas Wife

“Those we’ve got.”

Things were looking up. “Something Christmasy?” Or was it sold out for him?

“Hoppy Holidays?”

“That’ll work.”

“I’ll let your server know.” Julie stared at him. “And tell her to bring you the bill.”

“Sorry about that.” Kaylee shrugged out of her coat as she offered an explanation. “She and I used to go out a couple of times a month, but lately I’ve been a bit busy.”

“I’m told your boss is demanding.”

Shrugging, she slid her menu to one side. “At least he pays overtime.”

“About your time off request…”

“You can’t be taking that away from me.” Her face paled. “I agreed to all of your terms.”

Fuck.Did she see him as that much of an ogre? “I’m simply curious about where the ceremony is.”

“On the East Coast. She’s in medical school. Third year.”

“Intelligence clearly runs in the family.”

“We’re really proud of her.” She beamed. “And we like her future husband—who is also in med school. So that’s a bonus. But right now, even though she received scholarships, she’s relying on student loans.”

Like she no doubt had as well.

“I paid for my mom and siblings to fly out and rented a house for them. Since it’s been so stressful for everyone, I felt as if they deserved to get away. Forget everything they’ve been through, you know? And having the family there will mean the world to my sister.”

His brilliant assistant ensured everyone else was taken care of before even considering the possibility she could also attend?

The soft sound of her voice brought him back to the present. “Loree and Joshua might have had the ceremony here in New Orleans, except she’s already flown back and forth so much with Dad’s illness, and then…” She attempted a brave smile.

The server delivered their beverages and asked if they were ready to order.

Kaylee asked for crawfish étouffée and then looked at him. “Do you want to share a platter of deep-fried okra as an appetizer?”

“Sure.” As he nodded, Frost was certain his arteries were clogging.

“For you, sir?”

At least he was no longer being called a jerk.

“Gumbo.”

“Seafood? Or chicken and sausage?”

“Seafood.” Was there any other choice this close to the Gulf of Mexico?

When they were alone once more, he picked up the golden-orange colored brew with its frothy head. The first sip made him glad he’d skipped having wine. This ale was every bit as crisp and citrusy as he hoped—an excellent surprise. “Please, go on with your story.”

“Nothing much to add.”

“Do you always put yourself last?”

A puzzled frown burying itself between her delicately shaped eyebrows, she looked at him. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

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