Page 85 of The Difference Between

Gavin leans against the table next to me.

I look at him sideways. “That beard should be condemned.”

“Really?” He scratches his jaw, the hair scritch-scratching under his fingers as his cheeks round with a smile. “I figured you must like it since you asked me out on a date.”

“Date?” I quirk a brow. “This is not a date, it’s work.” Then: “And we’re friends.”

An open house to covertly screen a sperm donor is as far from romantic as it gets.

He makes a contemplative sound. “Just us though.” He laughs at my scowl. “What? Don’t take much to turn something into a date. Even if we are friends.”

I’m glad Remy’s not standing here.

Addie steps onto the makeshift stage with the group of kids and they belt out a song.

I gesture to Rue across the yard—she’s watching Addie while we’re gone.

“It isn’t a date,” I reiterate as we stroll to Mom’s car. “No matter how hard you try.”

Gavin wiggles his brows before he opens the door. “We’ll see about that, Miss Reese.”

Twenty-Four

My initial thought when I learned Theo Libbins had an open house was that I’d use it as an opportunity to get to know him. Gavin and I would walk in—preapproval in hand as to not raise any red flags—and strike up a conversation as he guided us through one of his high-dollar houses.

What I didn’t anticipate is that the open house we were visiting was his personal residence.

It is the best possible scenario.

“You’re a friend helping me shop,” I whisper to Gavin as we walk in. “Just follow my lead.”

Theo is standing at the kitchen island and holding informational flyers that say Let my home be yours!

He looks just like his photo. Purposefully shaped beard wrapping around his blocky jaw, thick head of dark hair, and an athletic build. His nose is normal, and he’s wearing slacks and a black polo that showcases a sleeve of black-lined tattoos. First impression: I’d have his baby.

Gavin and I peruse the kitchen.

“How long have you two been married?” Theo asks, making me pause mid-opening of a kitchen cabinet door.

“Oh.” I look at Gavin and laugh. “We’re not⁠—”

“A year,” Gavin says. He steps next to me and leans against the marble-topped island with a smug-ass smirk smeared on his face; he knows I won’t argue. I can’t. “The old lady here”—my nostrils flare—“is dying to start a family. Why we’re shopping.”

Theo watches as Gavin rests one hand on my hip then slides it to the small of my back before bringing it down the curve of my backside. My thin linen pants do nothing to keep me from feeling every point of contact.

I glare at Gavin; he grins. “She’s been begging me for babies.” His hand stays put as he adds in a loud whisper: “Can’t keep her hands off me.”

Gavin’s brows lift as he sends an ain’t that right, honey? look my way then lightly spanks me.

Spanks me.

While my mouth opens to the point of possible jaw dislocation, Theo chuckles.

Before I can hurl one of the stainless-steel pots from the overhead pot rack at Gavin’s face, Theo seizes the opportunity to start rattling off square footage and family-friendly details about the home and property. For our growing family.

I gather my thoughts—every single one of them about the things I’ll do if Gavin ever spanks me again—then shuffle through the kitchen. It’s futile. Now that I know it’s Theo’s house, any secrets he has won’t be on display; I’ll need to dig.

When another couple walks in, he pivots his attention to them, and I grab Gavin by the arm.