Page 25 of The Oath Operation
Jed's voice trailed off, as did his vision. His gaze went unfocused. Fish didn't care to get the man back on track about the middle Chou sister. He was far too concerned about the youngest one, the one who had him wrapped around her little finger.
He pushed past Jed and headed back to the kitchen, the cold air from the fridge trailing behind him. As he entered the warm, fragrant kitchen, he saw Jules waiting.
"Here," he said, handing her the orange juice.
"I'm usually on top of these things." She took a long sip, her throat working as she took in half of the bottle of the citrus drink. When she finished, she swiped at her mouth with the back of her hand. "Are you going to tell me I need to take better care of myself?"
"Are you not taking care of yourself?"
"I should've had a snack earlier. That would've headed this off."
"Sometimes we make mistakes or have oversight. No one got hurt."
"I could have."
"I have your back."
"My front, too."
"Because I'm your snow plow."
"Yeah." Jules tipped the bottle back and finished the drink.
Fish watched her, his worry easing as he saw her color return. When she finished, there was a smidge of juice at the corner of her mouth. Without thinking, Fish reached out and used his thumb to wipe it away.
Jules gasped softly, her eyes widening at the intimate gesture.
"Sorry," he murmured, but his thumb still lingered at the corner of her mouth, the moment charged with unspoken feelings. Her lips were so close, so ripe for a kiss.
Another beeping sound interrupted them. Fish looked at her arm, but the monitor was silent. It was the oven timer going off this time. The loud beep echoed through the kitchen, pulling them back to reality.
Fish stepped back, clearing his throat. "I’ll get that."
Jules nodded, her cheeks flushed. "Right, the pastries."
As Fish turned to the oven, the warm scent of baked goods filled the air, mingling with the faint aroma of the orange juice. He carefully pulled out the tray, the golden-brown pastries steaming and perfect. Despite the chaos and the unexpected interruptions, Fish felt a deep sense of contentment. Working with Jules, being there for her, made everything else fade away.
ChapterEighteen
“These are amazing, Jules."
"I can’t wait for your bakery to open again.”
Every kind word spoken at the community picnic reaffirmed Jules’s decision to follow her dream of reopening the bakery in her hometown. She liked the notion of people far and wide enjoying her food. But she had to admit there was nothing like seeing the smiles and hearing the delightedyumsof the people she'd grown up with and cared about. This was what she was meant to do.
“I’m working hard to get it ready as soon as possible,” Jules said as the third person today made the same inquiry as to when the bakery would reopen.
"Yes, I can see," said Mrs. Thompson, who could trace her ancestors back to the first settlers in town. "You and that new husband of yours. With muscles like that, he can do the job all by himself."
As she handed out another tray of cookies, Jules glanced up and saw Fish at the other end of the table. He was delicately putting intricate icing on the pastries they had baked together, his large hands moving with surprising finesse. For such a big and strong man, he was incredibly gentle. Her lips tingled at the memory of his touch, the unexpected intimacy of it still lingering in her mind.
The alarm bells had been going off all day. First her sugar monitor. Then the oven timer. But somewhere in between that, her heart had started racing just from being near Fish all morning.
She'd wanted to kiss him. Or for him to kiss her. Or for them to meet somewhere in the middle and kiss each other.
Shouldn't she feel shame about that? She had a boyfriend, after all. Didn't she?
She'd hardly thought about Amari these past couple of days. But she'd had a lot on her mind. Namely, the bakery. And who was always in the bakery, working on every detail of her plan and making sure her vision was coming to life: Fish, her husband.
