Page 91 of Winning Bid

I smile warmly at him. “I'm touched that you're trying to be sensitive. But I'm good. You handled it just right.”

He breathes a sigh of relief. “I never would have pegged you for baby fever.”

“I wouldn't say I have baby fever.”

He grins. “Says the woman who was looking at baby clothes last night.”

I laugh at him. “So you knew this was coming?

“Or you could just call it intuition.”

“Nope, you already let the cat out of the bag. Now I know my fiancé spies on my computer.”

“You were sitting right next to me. I was looking down your shirt. I happened to glance at the screen?—"

I giggle. “I'm not mad, Anderson. I think it's funny. Wait, you were looking down my shirt?”

“Well, I was trying to, but you were wearing one of those high-collar crewneck T-shirts. Don't be surprised if those things disappear out of your laundry. It's impossible to check out your tits in them.”

“Don't you dare! They're very comfortable.”

“We will see.”

After supper, we go to the living room for our usual routine of scrolling online while watching TV. But he pulls me against him, so I have to lay my head on his shoulder. He kisses the top of my head and murmurs, “I really am glad you’re thinking about babies. I hope I didn’t make you think otherwise.”

“I’m fine. You don’t have to try to make me feel better about not thinking it’s the right time?—"

“Maybe I’m not.” He sighs. “Pretty sure I’m trying to convince myself of it.”

I sit up to look at him. “Really?”

He nods. “I’ve wanted to start a family with you for a long time, baby. If things were different, I’d have already made it happen.”

“Right, well, the cops?—"

“It’s not entirely about them.” He rakes his fingers through his lush, dark hair. “It’s my father.”

“How so?”

“You’re right about him. He doesn’t see you the way that I do. I think it’s time we change that.”

I laugh. That asshole has hated me from day one. Changing his mind about me would be impossible by now. “How do you propose we do that?”

“A little work, a little luck, and a PowerPoint presentation.”

“You can’t be serious.”

He smiles. “I’m not.” Then he pulls me close again, and I nuzzle into him. “It’ll be the raw documents.”

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

“When it comes to dealing with my father, I do not joke.”

I exhale worry and inhale potential trauma. This should be fun.

45

JUNE

---