Page 157 of Torin

“He likes me.”

“He kicks you,” Alexandria says.

“Exactly.”

I laugh and sit back.

Torin is watching me. His mouth curves, and I know exactly what he’s thinking.

Heat creeps into my cheeks.

He wants to impregnate me.

The thought should probably be alarming.

It isn’t.

Across the table, Alexandria is telling Orson something about the baby shower, and Gunnar is trying to convince her that thirty people is not a small gathering.

I take a drink of champagne and try not to think about Torin putting a baby in me.

I fail.

By the time we leave the restaurant, it’s nearly eleven.

We say goodnight on the sidewalk, and I watch them head off before Torin and I walk back to his truck.

An hour later, the city is far behind us.

The road winds upward through the mountains, the headlights sweeping across rock and pine. I tuck my feet beneath me, still warm from champagne and good food and a day I’m not quite ready to let go of.

Torin glances across at me. “Happy?”

“Very.”

The lodge is quiet when we get home. I kick off my shoes by the door and turn to Torin.

He’s smiling.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.”

I narrow my eyes. “You spent half of dinner thinking about getting me pregnant.”

“Half?”

I laugh.

He comes closer and puts his hands around my waist. “You want that?” he asks.

“Yeah. I do.”

His smile disappears.

“Not yet,” I say.

“I know.”