Page 14 of The Oath Operation
"I can't believe he's letting you marry his girl." Noah snuck a raw vegetable from the chopping board, but not before peering over Fish's shoulder to ensure his wife wasn't looking.
"She's not his girl. She's going to be my wife."
"And he's all the more fool to expect you'll let her go." Noah reached for another vegetable, but this time Fish smacked the man's hand away. Noah frowned like a toddler being denied a cookie.
"You'll stand up with me at the wedding?"
A grin broke out, replacing Noah's frown. "I'll stand with you then and the day the idiot tries to come for your wife." Noah clapped him on the back again, this time more gently. "You better fix those knife cuts before Jacqui sees. She’ll have your head."
Fish looked down at his perfect cuts. The first thing he saw was Noah's hand snagging another vegetable. By the time Fish looked up, Noah was already out of his reach, the vegetable disappearing inside of his chuckling mouth.
"Nice job, Fish," Jacqui said, coming up on his other side.
Jacqui's praise startled him more than Noah's stealthy theft. Fish still wasn't used to all the compliments that came out of her mouth. Married life agreed with the exacting chef. It wasn't that her standards had relaxed since marrying Noah. In fact, they'd increased. But she now cooked in the kitchen alongside her staff and gave out almost a quarter as many compliments as she barked orders.
"Thank you, Chef."
Jacqui reached out a hand expectantly. As a soldier, Fish had been trained never to let go of his weapon. A kitchen was a battlefield. But this was his commanding officer.
Turning the blade around, he passed over the handle. Jacqui took the knife from his hand. With a fluid motion, she turned the blade on him, the sharp pint glinting under the fluorescent lights.
His muscles tightened in response to the sudden threat. He knew that no one else in the kitchen would come to his defense if the head chef decided to gut him. Jacqui's smile remained sweet, but her eyes held a steely determination.
"If you hurt my sister, I will filet you with your own knife."
"I'd turn that blade on myself before I'd let anyone hurt Jules. Myself included."
Jacqui's scrutiny was intense, her gaze piercing as if she could see right through him. Fish held still, every muscle taut, hoping he passed muster. He hadn't been this tense since basic training under the most demanding drill sergeant.
"Good." Jacqui lowered the knife, flipping it in the air and catching the blade in her fingertips with practiced ease. She held out the handle to him.
Fish would deny his fingers trembled when he took his knife back.
"What I mean by hurting her is that you’d better keep her away from Amari. He’s not right for her. You are."
Fish felt a rush of emotions—surprise, humility, and a deep sense of responsibility. "Yes, Chef."
Jacqui nodded, her expression softening slightly. "She deserves someone who truly cares about her dreams, someone who’ll stand by her no matter what."
"Yes, Chef." Fish wholeheartedly agreed.
Jacqui’s smile returned, warmer this time. "I’m rooting for you, Fish."
Fish was humbled by her words, the gravity of her support sinking in. "Thank you, Chef."
ChapterTen
Jules stood at the edge of the construction site that had once been her beloved bakery, watching as Fish worked with the hired contractors. The air was filled with the sounds of hammers striking nails, saws cutting through wood, and the occasional shout of instructions. Dust floated in the air, mingling with the scent of freshly cut lumber and the faint, lingering aroma of burnt wood.
Fish was in the thick of it, his sleeves rolled up and his muscles straining as he lifted heavy beams and carried stacks of lumber. She marveled at his strength, the way his biceps flexed with each movement, the determined set of his jaw as he focused on the task at hand. He wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty, diving into the manual labor with a dedication that both impressed and touched her.
As she watched him work, her mind drifted to the times he had helped her in her kitchen, making dainty pastries. The careful way he piped icing onto cupcakes, his large hands surprisingly gentle and precise. It amazed her how those same hands, capable of such force and strength, could also be so tender and meticulous.
With pastries.
She certainly wasn't thinking about how they'd felt on the small of her back. Or what they might feel like if he lifted her chin with his thumb and forefinger to align his mouth with hers in a kiss.
But she supposed she should think about that. After all, they would have to kiss tomorrow when they said their vows. It was part of the ritual.
