Page 46 of Unplanned Target

“Yours are from growing an entire fucking human from scratch.” I step closer, my voice a little sharper than I intend. “Mine are because I lifted something heavy over and over again.” I shake my head. “The two are not the same.”

“That’s another thing.” Miranda starts getting wound up and takes off pacing across the room. “I don’t know if you want kids. I don’t know if I want more kids.” She spins to face me. “I don’t even know how old you are.”

“I’m good with having kids. I’m good with not having kids. I don’t feel like that’s a decision I can make on my own because it doesn’t affect me the way it would the woman who would be having them.” I think a fulfilling life can look many different ways. It could be two people traveling and enjoying each other’s company. It could be a big ass family that’s all chaos and noise.

I know for a fact, it’s not me being by myself forever, though.

“Goddammit, Owen.” Miranda seems exasperated. “You’ve gotta stop saying shit like that.”

I shrug. “It’s the truth.” For a second, I think I’m done. Then I remember there’s one more question she asked. “And thirty-two.”

Miranda’s eyes go wide. “Thirty-two?” She marches right up to me, voice quiet. “You’re only thirty-two years old?”

I assumed Miranda was older than me, but I also assumed if it wasn’t a problem for me, it wouldn’t be a problem for her. Clearly I was wrong.

And that irks me. Because it shouldn’t be a problem.

Leaning down, I bring us eye-to-eye as I say, “Last time I checked thirty-two is pretty fucking grown.”

“Thirty-two is six years younger than me.” Miranda brings a hand to her head, obviously distressed. “I was in kindergarten when you were born.”

“So?” I stretch both arms out wide. “Do I look like I give a shit about six years?”

I wouldn’t give a shit about ten years. Not for the right person.

Miranda’s eyes drag over me, following the line of my outstretched arms before tracing a path down my chest. “What was the question?”

I smirk, pleased to have discovered a way to distract her. Grabbing the back of my shirt, I peel it up and over my head, tossing it onto the desk. “The question was, do I look like I’m not grown enough to handle you?”

“You look like...” She barely blinks as she takes in my newly bared skin. “You look like I should lick you.”

“That is the correct answer.” But before she can think too hard about that, I grab her around the waist, lifting her off the floor before tossing her onto the bed. “But you’re going to have to wait to lick me.” I crawl over her, beyond ready to get my hands—and mouth—on her. “Because I want to lick you first.”

“What? No.” Miranda shakes her head against the pillows. “I was supposed to get to touch you last night, but then I fell asleep. It’s not fair⁠—”

I seal my mouth over hers to cut off whatever protest she’s about to make about fairness and favors being returned. Based on what she’s mentioned about her past, I don’t expect Miranda would understand I get just as much out of touching her as she does, so it’s pointless to plead my case.

If I do this well, she’ll be so busy enjoying herself, I won’t have to.

I pull my lips from hers, tracking them along the side of her neck as I loosen the tie at her waist. “Do you want me to stop?”

I know she doesn’t want to rush, and if this feels like it’s too fast, I am happy to hit the brakes. Put a pin in things until she’s ready.

“If you stop, I’m going to kill you.” Miranda’s hands skate over my arms and down my chest. “But you’ll have to help me hide your body. We’ve established I don’t really have a plan for that.”

Fuck, this woman is perfect for me. A big part of me has been worried I’d never find anyone who would be accepting of what I do for a living. That they wouldn’t be able to understand how I’m capable of taking a life, but also capable of loving them within an inch of theirs.

But Miranda has never batted an eye at my career path. I’m sure part of it is because of her brother’s previous job and because I was there to get her daughter back at any cost. But I also think Miranda and I have yet another thing in common. Because I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t hesitate to take someone out to protect Allie. And probably wouldn’t lose any sleep over it at night.

And I find that sort of mama bear energy sexy as hell.

I’ve got the belt of the robe she’s wearing undone and I’ve just slid my hand across her bare belly when someone knocks hard enough on the door to my room that it rattles on its hinges.

“I’m going to fucking kill him.” I take a deep breath, trying to rein in my annoyance.

Miranda blinks up at me, her cheeks flushed. “Who?”

“Your brother.” The banging on my door continues. “Because it sounds like he’s awake.”