The Bachelor's Baby (Bachelor Auction Book 3)(27)

She told him, and it was so close to his mother’s birthday, he had a delusional thought that Mom was somehow making this happen. She’d always wanted him to marry and have kids.

It struck him that he’d have his first real Christmas in a long time, with a tree in his own home, with a wife and a baby…

“We’re getting married, Meg. Let’s go tell your family.”

*

Meg didn’t move, only chuckled with amazement at how his tune had changed. The worst of her hurt was easing, making her heart light enough to laugh. And she was weirdly relieved. His about-face meant a lot. She couldn’t pretend it didn’t affect her when he said things like, I’m going to take care of you. She wasn’t a damsel. She had more than her share of feminist independence, but there was a tattered little heart in her that responded to his intention. It mattered a lot to her that he wanted to take care of her and looked like he meant it.

Trying to hang onto sanity and not let weak emotions carry her along with his decisive let’s-get-going attitude, she said, “I was serious about what a nightmare it was to live with Blake and Crystal as they tried to make their shotgun marriage work.” Of course they’d been children, barely out of high school. The things that had set them up for failure were legion, but still. “We don’t know each other, Linc,” she reminded him, finding it hard to meet his piercing stare when he was so obviously willing her to do as he said. “Marriage, or even living together, was never on my agenda.”

Not really.

Okay, furthering her relationship with him had crossed her mind as she had come to terms with her pregnancy, but only so she could make herself face what a ridiculous notion it was. They were strangers. For her, getting married and settling down had always been something she would do when she met her soul mate—the one she vaguely imagined was both intellectual and cultured, down to earth and, of course, blessed with a great sense of humor. He looked like Jared Leto and liked to shop for housewares on the weekend.

“Put marriage on your agenda, Meg,” he ordered calmly and without mercy. “Because this afternoon you were throwing in my face that you hadn’t totally dismissed me. So don’t.”

“I just meant that you deserved to know,” she grumbled, scowling at her slippers.

“But I don’t deserve to wake up with my kid in my house? Doesn’t the baby deserve to live with both its parents?”

“That is not—Linc, you don’t even…” She thought of his last, brief email that had never been followed up by either of them. She already felt more emotionally invested than he was. Secretly she was very needy. She knew that. That’s why her relationships never lasted. Men never really gave her enough because she was a bottomless pit of hunger for love, never fulfilled.

Linc was self-sufficient. A loner. She couldn’t live with that, waking up every day feeling extraneous, facing a rebuff each morning because he wasn’t the kind of man to form deep emotional connections.

“You don’t want a wife,” she reminded him. “Or… Like, what exactly are you suggesting? I mean, would I just live at your place or—?”

His brows went up and his chin went down. His voice was firm, but husked with passionate memories. “We damned near set the bed on fire, Meg. It would be a real marriage.”

She blushed. Hard. An all over blush like she hadn’t suffered in a very long while.

Into the thick atmosphere of their recollected carnality, light fast footsteps approached and a rapid knock tattooed the door.

Meg shot a look at it, desperate for an interruption. “Yes?”

Petra pushed in with a springing step. “Ethan is the only one who doesn’t know. We’ve been keeping Mom’s secret for weeks and I’m dying. If you don’t want to come in and tell him, can I? Pleeeeeze?” She wrung her hands with teenaged melodrama.

“I’ll come in,” Meg said and glanced at Linc’s dismayed scowl. “Come have a bowl of stew,” she urged, thinking they both needed to decompress. “Blake will want to see that we’re not killing each other.”

“We already set places for both of you. I’ll tell them you’re on your way.” Petra ran back to the house.

Linc grabbed his jacket and stepped outside to put on his boots, not bothering to tie them. Before they left the porch, he caught her arm. “Think about it,” he said.

Meg was pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about it.





Chapter Eight




?


Meg was combing out her hair after her shower when she heard voices outside. She was only wearing a towel, but squinted against the sparkle of morning sun off the fresh snow and saw Linc handing something to Blake.

Blake said, “If she’s not there, she’s in the house,” and pointed at the spa.

Yikes! Meg scrambled into underwear and was trying to jiggle herself into her skinny jeans, thinking, Weight gain already? When there was a knock on the door.

“Just a sec!” She managed to get a bra snapped on—she really needed a new one. Her breasts were way too sensitive to put up with this. Finally a waffle weave long-sleeved shirt in pale pink went over her head and she hustled barefoot to the door.

“Hi,” she said, breathless and a little apprehensive. They’d had a civilized meal last night. Liz and the kids had carried most of the conversation. Ethan hadn’t been able to stop grinning, sending more than one, “Really?” at his Auntie Meg.