Jenna

“I think we need to talk about something.”

Frowning, I lifted my eyes from the screen of my cell phone, where I’d been perusing an email from the Baker Foundation about our newest proposed joint project. Linc had been quiet since we’d left my parents’ house; I had chalked it up to a long Easter Sunday spent with the Suttons, including my sisters, their husbands, and all of our nieces and nephews. I also knew he was missing Becca and Oliver, who’d spent their spring break with Doris and Hank Robbins.

But now, as he drove us slowly through the streets of downtown Burton, heading to our new house just outside of town, I noticed the small frown between his eyes, and a wave of misgiving swept over me.

“What’s wrong?” I asked right away, hoping he didn’t hear the worry in my voice.

“Nothing’s wrong. Not really,” he assured me. “Babe, I’m happier than I’ve ever been. I love you so much–I love our life, our family, and our new home. I love the work we do, how easy everything is . . . yeah, I’m content.”

“Okay.” I tilted my head. “I’m sensing a but here.”

“Not a but so much as an and.” Linc’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “I was reminded of something today–something important.” He paused. “Jenna, let’s have a baby.”

My mouth dropped open. “What?”

“A baby. Let’s do it.” He slid me a quick sideways glance. “We talked about it before we got engaged, remember? We said that once we got married and settled, we’d look at adding to the family.”

“Yes, I remember that.” I slid my phone into my purse and folded my hands in my lap. “But then . . . we had all the fuss with the wedding and getting used to being a family, and the kids always have something going on, then we moved–I just figured maybe it wasn’t going to happen. That maybe we should just be content with all the blessings we have: each other, and two healthy kids.”

Linc’s brow knit together. “So you don’t want to have a baby?”

Slowly, I shook my head. “No, I wouldn’t say that. I would love to get pregnant with you and have your baby, Linc. But I don’t want that desire to mess up the lives we have now–and I don’t want to force your hand, either.”

One side of his mouth curled up. “It’s not my hand that’s going to knock you up, babe.”

“You know what I mean.” I rolled my eyes. “You went through the early years of babies and toddlers already, and no one could blame you for not wanting to dive back into that work again.”

“But I do,” he insisted. “I’ve loved every minute of being Becca and Oliver’s dad. I can’t wait to do that again–with you, babe. I want to see you grow and change as our baby grows inside you. I want to lie in bed next to you and watch you feed our child.” He waggled his brows at me. “And the fun of getting you pregnant–I most definitely want that.”

“Yeah, I’ll just bet.” My head was spinning. I’d become resigned that this wasn’t in the cards for us, and now that it might be, I was getting excited. “Um, do you have any thoughts about when you’d like to start trying?”

“Right away,” he responded. “As soon as we get home, I want you naked in bed, ready for me to put a bun in your oven.”

“Tonight?” Now I was more than surprised. I thought this was the beginning of the discussion, but it seemed Lincoln had already found his answer.

“Yes, definitely tonight. And since Bec and Oli are going to be away this coming week, I say we both take off at least a few days and just fuck like bunnies.”

“Linc!” I couldn’t help laughing. “Are you serious?”

“So serious,” he assured me. “Is this the right time for you to pregnant?”

I did some quick math in my head. “It will be by the middle of the week, I think.”

“There we go.” He smacked the steering wheel triumphantly. By this time next week, darlin’, there will be a baby in a your belly, or I’ll die trying.”

“You dying seems counterproductive,” I murmured. “We’re really doing this? We’re going to try for a baby.”

“Yeah, we are.” Linc squeezed my fingers and lifted my hand to his mouth. “I love you, Jenna Sutton Turner. I want to have babies with you. And I don’t want to wait a minute longer than we have to. Let’s not waste time.”

He steered his truck into our long gravel drive, going at a quick pace until we were parked near the house.

“Last one to the bedroom is a rotten egg.”

“Hey, no fair,” I protested, laughing. “You didn’t give me enough time to get my seatbelt off. You’re going to win.”

He winked at me. “Honey, I promise, tonight we’re both going to win.” I waited a beat. “More than once.”

And we did.

Keep the Small Town Love Sizzling!

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