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“I’m jumping the gun, or guns, I guess, but I’d be a great stepdad.”
Oh god…he wanted that—to be Dylan’s stepfather? “You’d be an amazing stepdad, but would that be enough?” Every second that he didn’t answer, her stomach twisted tighter.
“Maybe.” His hands fell to his sides. “I don’t know.”
She blinked hard to force the damn tears back again. Sometimes honesty really sucked.
“What about you? Do you still wish you had more children?”
She couldn’t blame him for fishing. They should’ve had this conversation another time, and under better circumstances. Too late for that.
“There was a point when I didn’t think motherhood was in the cards for me at all. I’m grateful to have Dylan. After he was born, I accepted that he’d be my only child. I made myself stop wishing for more. Then you came along and kick-started my hormones.” She pasted on a halfhearted smile. “Thanks a lot for that. I’m probably going to turn into one of those cat ladies in an attempt to satisfy my maternal urges.”
“There’s adoption.”
“That’s what I had in mind.”
“You did?”
“Of course. Look at Hugo, he’s a great cat—when he’s not eating my casseroles, that is.”
“You’re talking about adopting cats.”
“Can’t become a cat lady without cats. And the shelters are always full of them, so—”
He cut her off with an unexpected burst of laughter. “I was talking about kids.”
“What?”
The smile that’d accompanied his laughter changed into one much deeper, sweeter. “We could adopt. Or foster. Kids, not cats. But I’m good with having a houseful of those too.”
“We?”
“Yeah, I know, jumping the gun again. You haven’t even agreed to take me back.”
“Yet.” Heaven help her, she was smiling too. Ear-to-ear.
“Sounds like the odds are in my favor.”
“And mine.” She placed a hand on his chest and traced his tattoo. The outline, the tiny details on the ornate Franciscan cross. She had the design memorized, she’d looked at it so many times, but at this moment, it kept her eyes off his face.
“Hey,” he tipped her chin up, “tell me.”
He read her so easily. Would another man be able to, if things with Mason flopped? In all the years with Scott, he’d never been as tuned in to her as Mason was after only a few weeks.
“I want us to work out. So much. But I’m scared.”
“That I’ll fuck up again? I probably will.”
“Way to give a girl hope.” Her view of his grin was brief, because he tilted his head and moved in. Finally.
His soft lips took control. Strong hands moved over her back. Lower, to the hem of her t-shirt, which he peeled up in a smooth, sexy motion.
She slid one hand into his boxers and circled a deliciously sturdy erection. “Now this is hopeful.”
“Nah. That’s a sure thing.”
“Satisfaction guaranteed or what, my money back?”
