The Lemon Sisters (Wildstone #3)(91)

“I don’t want to fight with you,” she said.

“On that, we’re quite in agreement.” Tossing the cord aside, he took her hand and led her to the couch. “I just want to talk.”

“That’s not exactly our strong suit.” She was careful to not quite touch him, because he was wearing her favorite shirt of his, a gray UCSF Medical School T-shirt. It’d been worn to a buttery softness that clung to his broad shoulders. His cargo shorts had a bazillion pockets that she knew would be full of a huge assortment of things, but still always had room for him to take on the burden of whatever she didn’t want to carry.

Dammit. She loved him so much.

Ignoring her clear personal space bubble, he pulled her in until they were thigh to thigh. He twisted to face her, his arm resting along the back of the couch, his body language telling her this was important to him, she was important to him, and she took a deep breath and let that wash over her.

“First things first,” he said quietly, eyes on hers, his solemn. Intense. “I really did believe you wanted the shop. I’ve always hated that we never had enough money for it because of my student debt. I assumed you hated that, too, maybe even resented it.”

“Linc—”

He put a finger to her lips. “You put your entire life on hold for me so I could go to medical school, which meant you working so we wouldn’t starve. Then, just as we started to get it together, I got you pregnant. You never complained, never faltered, just kept us in the boat with life jackets on and steered the ship. You’ve put all of us, everyone you care about, ahead of yourself, and I wanted to return the favor. So I cashed in some investments and moved things around so you could have what I thought was your dream. I was wrong to do that without talking to you first.” He ran a finger along her temple, over an earlobe, and smiled when she shivered. “We got an unexpected offer on the store,” he said. “For more than I paid your parents for it. It’s from Xena and her sister. They want their own franchise and apparently have for a while. It’s your choice, of course, this time and for always. Whatever you want to do, I’m in.”

She let out a careful breath. “Xena’s perfect for it. I could go back to baking and selling her my stuff for the shop, assuming she wants it.”

Linc’s eyes warmed as he smiled. “Your stuff’s amazing, I hope you know that. You can do whatever you want. You could take over the world if you set your mind to it. No one would know what hit them.”

From the kitchen came a loud drumming sound that Mindy knew from experience was Mason sitting on the floor surrounded by upside-down pots and pans, beating them with her wooden spoons, headbanging like he was the drummer from an ’80s rock band.

“Also”—Linc handed her the itinerary and tickets for Hawaii—“we’re still going. Ethan and I had a serious talk.”

“Ethan doesn’t do serious.”

“He does now.”

She stared at the papers in her hand. “So . . . he’s going to help handle the practice for the whole week? No emergencies?”

“It’s not ‘helping’ when he owns half of it,” he said. “But that’s going to change, too. I told him I was cutting my hours back to something reasonable versus insane, because you and the kids didn’t sign on for me running Dad’s practice alone. I’ve missed too much precious time. I also told him if he didn’t have time to devote to his half, we’re selling. The hospital’s been coming at us with offers for two years. It’d leave us as independent contractors and managers of the practice, but not owners, the biggest plus being that they’d add two additional MDs to the rotation. We’d all have reasonable shifts and time to work in the hospital and clinics if we want.”

She stared up at him, afraid to hope. “Which is exactly what you’ve wanted to do.”

He nodded, his expression endearingly earnest. “This works for us, right? It’s what you want, too?”

The husky sincerity in his voice, coupled with his big, warm body pressed against hers and that finger tracing softly along her ear and down her throat, warmed her. “What I want,” she murmured, “is for us to be on the same page.”

His smile was sexy. “We’re always on the same page. In bed . . .” He chuckled when she blushed. “Do you want to know when I first realized I’d fallen in love with you?”

“I thought it was Trash Can Mindy.”

“No, that’s when I first knew you were going to be mine. Junior year of high school, you came over to my family’s house to watch a movie. You and my grandpa promptly fell asleep.”

“Because you picked a Star Wars movie we’d seen a million times.” She felt her face heat, remembering what had happened next. “I don’t need to hear this story again, I already lived it—”

“And around halfway through, still dead asleep, you popcorn farted loud enough to wake the dead. Pop, pop, pop.” He grinned. “My grandpa fell out of his chair.”

And the old man’s dentures had gone skittering across the room. “Well, you fed me hot dogs. Hot dogs hurt my stomach!”

He was still smiling. “You jerked upright, horrified—which, as a side note, you shouldn’t have been. You should’ve been proud as hell because it was very impressive—”