Aiden’s fixed smile remained in place. “You’re freaking out,” he observed.
“No, I’m not.” Yes, she was.
“Yes, you are.”
She bit her lip. “A little.”
“Why don’t we start with one baby, and then work our way into multiples?” Aiden stroked her back as he held her, his face growing serious. “You are going to be an amazing mother, Sadie.” Then he kissed her, and she melted into him, pretty sure he could talk her into absolutely anything.
“Come
Aiden’s lips left hers. “Go away,” he told Shane, not taking his eyes off Sadie’s.
“Gift exchange time.”
Sadie pulled her hands away from Aiden’s neck and clapped. “Oh! I have the best gift! You’ll want to end up with mine,” she assured Aiden.
“No, you want mine,” Shane told Aiden. “It’s an island,” he deadpanned.
“Yuppie.”
“Hippie.” Shane drained his scotch glass and grimaced. “Come on, Aid, your dad’s making me drink this, and you should have to, too.”
“Right behind you,” Aiden told him.
Shane wandered into the den, calling, “Yeah, yeah,” over his shoulder.
Aiden faced Sadie again. “You’re going to want to get my present.”
She pursed her lips and pretended to consider. “I don’t know…I really could use an island. What’d you bring?”
“Remanned carburetor.”
She grasped the waistband of his jeans and tugged. “Ohh, sexy. You know what I like.”
Aiden’s eyes darkened and a feral spark lit the sea of green. “I do know what you like.”
Sadie’s heart kicked up about three hundred notches.
“I bet we could sneak out to the tree house and be back before they start the gift exchange,” Aiden said. Another whoop came from the den, and Sadie imagined everyone tossing back another mouthful of scotch. “They’ll probably forget we were ever here.”
He kissed her neck as she sighed and weaved her fingers in his hair. So sexy. “But it’s freezing out there,” she protested weakly as his rough jaw abraded her neck.
“I’d keep you warm,” he murmured into her hair, his fingers sliding just beneath the edge of her sweater.
“I bet you will.” She gave him a gentle shove. “Let’s go to the den and open presents.”
He curled his lip in protestation.
“And afterward, we’ll check out the tree house.”
Landon entered the living room next, swaying slightly, probably caused by the drink in his hand. Sadie had never seen him so loose. He looked more approachable with his hair mussed, wearing a casual V-neck sweater. “Shane bought an island? Seriously?” He frowned, gave them assessing glances. “You two at it again?”
“Leave us alone,” Aiden growled, but his eyes danced with humor.
“I’ve never seen my brother so horny until he met you,” Landon told Sadie. “And I knew him when he was fourteen.”
Sadie covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. Aiden looked murderous.
“This one time, our neighbor—” Landon started, then his eyes widened as Aiden tore through the living room after him. Sadie followed. When she reached the doorway, Aiden and Landon were scrapping with one another, each trying to get the other into a headlock.
This was her family now, too, Sadie realized as she glanced around the room. Angel and her husband, Richie, were at the bar, sharing one glass of wine and smiling over the rim at each other.
Evan sat, glass in hand, a cautious half smile on his face. He looked content, which was nice to see, though she wouldn’t go so far as to say he was happy. The happiest she’d seen him was when he’d tucked Lyon into bed after the kid slipped into a sugar coma from eating the contents of his stocking.
Mike leaned on the mantle, his own glass of scotch nearby, watching his brood with a mix of sadness and pride. He missed Kathy, Sadie knew. They all did. Even Sadie, who didn’t need to meet the woman to know the world was less special without her in it.
Crickitt was settled on Shane’s lap, his wide palm covering her middle. Crickitt lifted her mug in a silent cheers to Sadie. Sadie smiled, knowing just how her best friend felt. They’d both lucked into this family. Into forever. It was almost too much.
Aiden came to Sadie a second later, smoothing his hair and issuing an empty warning at Landon, who uttered the very un-CEO-like retort of, “Whenever you’re ready, bro.”
“Miss me?” Aiden asked, pulling her attention from his family. He dropped a kiss on her lips as Landon and Shane booed, and Evan insisted they “get a room.”
Angel and Crickitt argued they thought it was sweet.
Sadie crooked her finger and Aiden leaned down so she could whisper in his ear. She grasped his face and whispered, “We would make beautiful babies.”
He lifted his head so he could look at her, the emotion in his eyes leagues deep, and filled with desire.
Finally, Sadie had let herself want all the things she’d longed for deep in her heart. And, finally, she believed she could have it. With Aiden, she could have anything. She could have everything.
There never should have been any doubt.
About the Author
Jessica Lemmon has always been a dreamer. At some point, after she decided head-in-the-clouds thinking was childish, she went out and got herself a job…and then she got another one because that one was lousy. And when that one stopped being fulfilling, she went out and got another…and another. Soon it became apparent that she’d only be truly happy doing what she loved. And since “eating potato chips” isn’t a viable career, she opted to become a writer. With fire in her heart, she dusted off a book she’d started years prior, finished it, and submitted it. It may have been the worst book ever, but it didn’t stop her from writing another one. Now she has several books finished, several more started, and even more marinating in her brain (which currently resides in the clouds, thank you very much), and she couldn’t be happier. She firmly believes God gifts us with talents for a purpose, and with His help, you can create the life you want. (While eating potato chips.)
Jessica is an ex-meat-eater, writer, artist, dreamer, wife, and den mother to two dogs.
Business or pleasure?
See the next page for an excerpt from the first book in Jessica Lemmon’s Love in the Balance series
Chapter 1
Oscillating red, green, and blue lights sliced through the smoke-filled club. Men and women cluttered the floor, their arms pumping in time with the throbbing speakers as an unseen fog machine muddied the air.
Shane August resisted the urge to press his fingertips into his eyelids and stave off the headache that’d begun forming there an hour ago.
Tonight marked the end of a grueling six-day workweek, one he would have preferred to end in his home
