Chapter 389 Remember His Preferences
A cheek kiss? No biggie.
But Harper dipped her head and let his lips miss.
She pinched Agnes's cheek, scooped her up, and grinned, "Told ya, it doesn't hurt. Now go wash up for breakfast."
Agnes was a bit bummed but still stoked to have Francis around for breakfast.
"Okay, Mommy," she chirped.
As soon as Agnes bounced off, Harper's smile vanished. She shot Francis a cold look, "What are you playing at, Francis?"
That icy vibe hit Francis like a punch to the gut, leaving a raw ache.
He rasped, "Just wanna have breakfast with Agnes."
Harper wasn't buying it.
Francis's motives were written all over his face. She knew he was using Agnes to get close to her.
Her face turned frosty, "Francis, I only agreed to you picking up and dropping off Agnes from school. Not barging into our lives whenever you feel like it."
"Our lives," she said, totally excluding Francis, Agnes's dad.
Francis's throat felt like sandpaper, and he said earnestly, "Harper, I really wanna spend more time with Agnes. I've already missed five years and don't wanna waste another second. Even if it's just a moment, I wanna see her."
Sure, it wasn't just about Agnes; he wanted to see Harper too and dreamt of them being a family. But he didn't dare say that. He'd worked so hard to get this close. If he spilled, Harper might shut him out completely.
Harper knew he had a point, and he had promised not to fight her for Agnes.
So, she had no reason to block their time together.
Even though she didn't want to see Francis, she couldn't let Agnes down.
After a quick internal battle, she said coldly, "Just leave after breakfast."
Francis's face twitched, and his mood darkened.
At the table, Agnes was buzzing with energy.
Harper broke off a piece of peanut butter bread and handed it to Agnes; the bread was the kiddo's favorite.
Agnes handed the half to Francis, "Daddy, try it. I love it."
Harper remembered Francis hated peanut butter, so she started, "Agnes, he doesn't like..."
But she stopped mid-sentence, her face flushing.
Damn it! Why did she still remember his likes and dislikes?
While she was lost in thought, Francis smiled, took the bread, and ate it.
Agnes's face was full of hope. "Daddy, is it good? Mommy broke it for you."
Francis wiped Agnes's mouth with a napkin, his eyes soft. "Of course."
He looked at Harper and said gently, "Mommy broke it, so it's delicious."
Harper's eyebrows knitted together.
But she was a bit surprised at how good Francis was with kids.
Agnes was more animated around him.
Harper thought of the psychologist's advice.
She said Agnes needed a father, and that father had to be someone she liked and trusted.
It seemed Francis was that guy; otherwise, Agnes wouldn't call him Daddy so easily.
But why did Agnes have to like Francis? Was it really a blood thing?
"Daddy." Agnes's voice, tinged with sadness, snapped Harper back to reality.
Harper looked up and saw Francis's shirt and pants were splattered with egg and grease. It was hard to miss.
"Sorry, Daddy," Agnes said, looking all sad.
She'd tried to hand him a hot egg, but it slipped and landed on him.
Francis didn't care about his clothes. He held Agnes with one hand and urgently asked, "Did you get burned?"
That was exactly what Harper was thinking. Her first instinct was to check if Agnes was hurt.
"Agnes," Harper said anxiously, reaching out to hold her, but Francis had already whisked the kid to the sink to rinse her with cold water.
Zoey came over with some burn ointment. "Mr. Getty, let me."
She reached out to take Agnes, but Francis didn't let go. Instead, he said, "Give it to me."
Harper, worried Francis might not apply it right, told Zoey, "I'll do it."
Zoey handed the ointment to her. Francis held Agnes on his lap while Harper squatted and carefully applied the ointment.
As she worked, Harper's arm occasionally brushed against Francis's pants, but she didn't pay much attention.
Francis's dark eyes softened with deep affection.
Being able to interact with Harper so calmly was something he never dared to dream of. He wished time would slow down.
Agnes, feeling all the love, grinned and waved her little hands, "Mommy, Daddy, it doesn't hurt."
Thanks to the quick treatment, Agnes's hand was fine.
Both of them breathed a sigh of relief.
Zoey quickly took Agnes and said to Francis, "Mr. Getty, you should go change."
Harper glanced at his dirty shirt.
She was about to ask how much it cost so she could pay him back when Agnes piped up, "Daddy, Mommy made new clothes for Jasper. They're upstairs. You can change into those."
Harper chuckled at Agnes's enthusiasm.
She remembered Francis was picky and only wore custom-made clothes from a specific store.
She asked, "Do you still prefer clothes from that store? I can get you a new set."
Francis looked at her, his mouth curving into a smile, and said softly, "No need. I'll be fine with the clothes upstairs."
Harper didn't know what had changed Francis so much, even to the point of not being picky about clothes.
Although Jasper was about the same build as him, for a rich guy used to custom-made clothes, he'd surely find them ill-fitting.
Harper suggested, "Why don't you just go home and change?"
"I have a meeting later," Francis said clearly.
Harper had no choice but to take him upstairs to get the clothes.
There was a room specifically set up for Jasper, and the clothes were hanging in his room.
Harper grabbed the clothes and turned around, only to be startled by a tall figure.
She realized Francis had already taken off his shirt.
His well-defined abs and tight, muscular chest were fully exposed. Below, his belt was undone but not completely removed.
The zipper was slightly open, revealing the firm lines of his lower abdomen, a sight so provocative that she couldn't help but think wildly with just a glance.
Instantly, the air was filled with an awkward vibe.
In a panic, Harper covered her face with the clothes and exclaimed, "Who told you to strip off!"
Francis reached out to take the shirt, leaving Harper without a cover, and the heat of his breath hit her face.
Francis said matter-of-factly, "How can I change if I don't?"
Then, his long fingers moved to the button of his pants, about to undo it.
Was he really going to take off his pants in front of her?
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