Over the next hour, I watch Hendrix go over details and procedures and computer ordering systems with her new employees. There is a quick leaf through of her design binder. A demonstration on how to use the ovens and industrial mixers, although by the faces of the two helpers, they already know how to use them. Hendrix explains the ordering system and emphasizes the attention to detail and perfection she requires. Then she moves to where they dry, how they’re labeled, and where to find the prepped boxes.

It’s impressive to watch her in her element. Yeah, I’ve watched her create and decorate, but to see her know her business inside and out is not only incredible, it’s also sexy as hell.

The woman is simply incredible in so many facets of the word.

“I’ll stay down here with them,” she says when she finally finishes. “You can go upstairs and sleep.”

“Hendrix. My love,” I say with dramatic flair. “I brought them in here to give you a break. To help you. If you stay here much longer, you’re going to be icing your feet and creating a subpar product. Trust that they know what you’ve shown them as well as the skills they already bring into the bakery.”

“I know but—”

“No buts.” I press a chaste kiss to her lips and can practically feel the exhaustion seeping out of her. “We’re going upstairs. They know where to find us. They are capable and talented and you’ve given them thorough instructions.”

She hesitates, but I can see her wavering. The sigh tells me I might have finally won out. “Fine. But if they mess up my cookies—”

“They won’t,” I assure her. But it takes another thirty minutes and a whole lot more convincing on my part to actually have her on the stairs and heading up to her apartment.

Her steps are hesitant but I keep talking the whole time to distract her. I explain how Nathaniel took care of all the paperwork and payroll for me. How these ladies come seriously vetted with numerous references.

The Type A in her struggles with the notion of giving up control, but I don’t let her have an option. This is the way it’s going to be.

The apartment is small but cute—it’s her in every sense. The muted colors, the warm tones, the tidiness. I can picture her here and the notion makes me both happy and sad to think about her here all alone.

“You have icing in your hair,” I murmur as I press a kiss to the back of her neck. “Come on, let me wash it out for you.”

“You’re going to wash my hair?” She laughs like she doesn’t believe it.

“I am. Yes.” I reach down and pull her shirt over her head.

Another unexpected first for me.

“Jase . . .” Her voice is thick, drowsy with exhaustion.