Page 73 of The Mistletoe Mix-up

“Maybe you just discovered it because the opportunity arose,” she said, waggling her eyebrows.

Sam pressed her face against his chest, growling, “You be quiet and stop projecting your weirdness onto me.”

“It’s a real thing,” Wren mumbled.

“I don’t care, I don’t have it.”

“Alright, you aren’t turned on by getting women pregnant. Just me,” she teased, but Sam didn’t argue because she wasn’t wrong. His breeding kink—or whatever one would call it—was limited to Wren Little.

She kissed his chest, snuggling into him. “While I appreciate your enthusiastic help, thank you for signing the papers.”

“You are welcome,” he said, stalling a moment before adding, “I did want to ask you something.”

“Yes,” she said, her voice sounding groggy.

“When you get pregnant, are we going to still continue this until one of us is no longer interested? Or is it over when you find out?”

Wren didn’t answer right away, and Sam wanted to kick himself for bringing it up, worried he’d scare her away.

Then she finally said, “I’m not sure. Maybe we just take it day by day?”

Sam kissed her forehead. “Sure, we’ll do that.”

He started to pull back and climb off the bed, but she held on to him. “Where are you going?”

“I didn’t know if I should take off.”

“Do you want to leave?” she asked.

“Not a chance.”

Wren smiled, pulling him back onto the bed with her. “Then stay.”

Sam curled his naked body into hers, listening as her breathing evened out and she fell asleep.

Unfortunately, sleep eluded him, and he extracted himself from her and got up, using the bathroom first. When he came out, he slipped on his boxer briefs from off the ground, and Wren’s dog whined at him.

“Do you have to pee, too?” he asked the dog as if he expected to get an answer.

The dog pawed at the gate, and Sam squatted down, mumbling, “Just don’t eat me if I let you out of here.”

The dog calmly trotted out, heading for the back door. Sam checked and noted that it was fenced in, so he let the dog out. He went to the cupboard and grabbed a glass, filling it with ice water from the refrigerator door.

With a cup of water in one hand, he picked up the contract he’d signed and sat down with it, reading through as he took several long drinks. Nothing he wouldn’t expect to logically see in an insemination contract, except the section where if the child becomes ill, he was required to get tested for organ matching.

I can’t claim my child, but if something happens and they need a kidney, I have to give it up?

If the kid was sick, he would give up anything to make them healthy again. There wasn’t even a question there.

Why was he even thinking about these things now, before the kid was born?

The dog scratched at the door, and Sam opened it, sitting back down at the table to read the rest of the contract. The dog came over to him and put his head in Sam’s lap.

“Hey, buddy. You’re a friendly one, aren’t you?” Sam twisted his collar around so he could read his tag. “Duke. That’s a good name.” He rubbed his ears, listening to the dog moan in happiness as he finished reading the contract.

“What am I gonna do, Duke? I think I love your mistress, but she doesn’t want a man in her life.”

The dog whimpered, and Sam took it as a note of sympathy.