I nod. “Let’s do it.”
He gives me my favorite grin.
“Are you sure about a third baby?” I ask. “We can wait until after this job is complete.”
“Hell no. I want another little rug rat running around the house. It’s been too quiet.”
I laugh. “I wouldn’t say that, but I agree. It would be nice to have another baby. Gray and Gemma are growing up too fast.”
Gray turned thirteen a month ago. Gemma turns eight soon, which puts them a little over five years apart. We lucked out since most siblings with that many years separating them tend to not get along, especially at their current age, but Gray and Gemma are very close. It’s adorable to watch Gray’s protectiveness over Gemma. I never have to worry about anyone messing with her. Gray is a bulldog when it comes to making sure nothing happens to his little sister. And she adores her older brother to pieces. I have no doubt if another baby comes along, they’ll love her or him just as much.
“Besides, remember all the fun we had making the two kids we have,” Lincoln adds, his expression turning naughty.
I giggle. “Like there’s any way I could forget. We got pretty creative.”
Something shifts in his eyes: remembrance and passion. The look sends delightful shivers down my spine.
He leans down and presses his lips against mine. His hands, still under my shirt, slide further up my back. I moan into the kiss and lock my arms around his neck. Craving him closer, I roll to my toes, plastering myself against him.
My need for him grows, and judging by the way he tightens his grip around me and his growing erection pressed against my lower stomach, so does his.
“Eww…. Come on, Mom and Dad, that’s gross,” Gray’s voice whines behind us. “Do you guys really have to do that in the kitchen? Especially right before dinner.”
I smile as Lincoln and I pull apart. Seeing us kiss isn’t anything new for Gray and Gemma, but we always keep it to a minimum and never let it go past PG when we know the kids could walk in any minute. Gray has seen us kiss plenty of times, but he always reacts the same way, like it’s the most horrible thing his young eyes have seen. I remember thinking it was so sweet when I was younger and caught my parents kissing. Of course, girls are more romantic than boys, so his abhorrence to catching us doesn’t surprise me.
Lincoln turns to face our son, keeping one arm around me. “Just watch, Gray. When you’re much older, married, and have kids of your own, you’ll be grossing them out too.”
He plops down in one of the kitchen chairs. “Nope, not me. I ain’t ever getting married. Girls are too complicated to handle.”
“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.” Lincoln’s eyes are soft when they meet mine. “You’ll find that one girl you can’t live without.”
“Nah.” Gray props his chin up on his hand. “I’ll be too busy entertaining all the girls to focus on only one.”
“Lincoln Graham Bradshaw!” I admonish. “You’ll be doing no such thing!”
He laughs, his eyes, so much like his dad’s, sparkling. “I’m only joking, Mom. Dad’s taught me to respect the girls. But for real, you girls can be complicated.”
“Uh, oh.” I walk over to the fridge and grab out the pitcher of freshly squeezed lemonade. “Having trouble with Andrea?”
“It’s stupid,” he mumbles as I set a glass in front of him and fill it with lemonade. “She invited me to go skating with her and some of her friends. I don’t know how to skate, so I know I’ll look dumb, and probably fall and make a fool of myself.”
“I’m going to let you in on a little secret, Gray.” Lincoln leans over with his fists on the table. “Sometimes, it can be very beneficial to make a fool of yourself in front of the ladies.” He grins. “Especially if it’s from doing something to make them happy. Girls like to feel special. What better way to make them feel that way than to do something you normally wouldn’t do, all because you want to make them happy?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Trust me, I know.”
He ruffles Gray’s hair as he passes by him. I hide my smile when I see the contemplative look on Gray’s face. He and Andrea have been best friends for the last three years. It wasn’t until recently that I’ve noticed a change in the way Gray acts around the young girl. He confided in Lincoln a couple of weeks ago about wanting to ask her to be his girlfriend. As much as I’m not looking forward to my kids growing up, it’s still cute to think that Gray has his first crush.
“Where’s your sister?” I ask Gray. I pull down four plates from the cabinet, and Lincoln takes them from me to place on the table in front of Gray. He gets up and starts putting them in front of the four place settings. Lincoln hands him silverware next, and he adds those beside the plates.
“She’s in her room, rearranging her dolls. She said she’d be down in a minute.”
As if sensing we were talking about her, a short, green-eyed beauty comes bounding into the kitchen, red pigtails bouncing against her shoulders.
“Daddy!” she shrieks, heading straight for Lincoln.
He scoops her up and playfully uses his beard to tickle her neck. The giggle she releases is a sound I’ll never tire of hearing. We came so close to never hearing it. The day she came into the world was one of the best and scariest days of my life. The placenta completely detached itself from the inner wall of my uterus, which blocked the oxygen and nutrients Gemma needed. The act caused massive blood loss for me and almost took the life of our baby. Luckily, I was so close to my delivery date that Dr. Becker thought it was best I go ahead and deliver her.
“How’s my beauty?” he asks, smiling down at a grinning Gemma.
Lincoln has adopted to calling our daughter his beauty. He kept his word all those years ago when he said I would be the only person he would call “his girl.” Of course, I wouldn’t have minded at all if he called Gemma his girl, but I think it’s precious he chose a different name specifically for her.
“I’m good. I’ve got all my dolls on the new shelf you made for me. They look real pretty. You and Momma gotta come see it after dinner.”
“You got it.” He kisses the tip of her nose and sets her on her feet.
I turn back to the sink to finish the few dishes that are left when I’m tugged away by my belt loop.
“Leave those,” Lincoln says, turning me to face him again. “I’ll finish them after dinner.”
“It’s only a few more and it’ll take just a minute.”
“Well, then I won’t have much to do after dinner.” He pats my butt. “Now grab those biscuits and go sit. We can bring everything else to the table.”
I smile and lean up to peck his lips. “Thank you.”
He lets me go, and I grab the plate of biscuits. When I turn to take them to the table, my stupid feet get tangled together somehow, and I trip. Before I can catch it, the plate tumbles to the floor. It shatters and biscuits and glass fly everywhere.
“Crap,” I mutter.
Before I can squat to gather the bigger pieces, I’m lifted off my feet into a pair of strong arms. Instinctually, I snuggle against Lincoln’s warm chest. Isn’t it always swoon-worthy when your man picks you up and cradles you like you’re the most precious thing? That’s exactly how I feel right now.