Hyper Lynx (The Lynx Series Book 6) by Fiona Quinn (ebook reader for pc and android TXT) 📗

occurred to me. Wow. I hope that doesn’t occur to her either.”

This was nice, hanging out in the kitchen with Striker.

But I needed to get up the courage to tell him what I’d done. Or, more precisely, what I didn’t do. I hated it when I failed him.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Striker strode through the living room, opening the door to find Kate standing on the porch with Little Guy.

I had followed along behind, peeking around Striker’s broad shoulders.

Little Guy was mewling and rubbing his head into the crook of Kate’s neck.

“I thought I could get him to sleep before I handed him over.” Her words formed an unnecessary apology. “Sorry, he’s had a rough day. He just cut a new tooth.”

“Aw, poor little thing.” I reached for him, all snuggly and warm. “No worries at all. I love rocking babies.”

Kate set the diaper bag inside the door. “If you need anything for him, you have a key. Just help yourself.”

“Okay.”

“And we’ll be home around eleven. I’ll come pick him up. I’m not yet ready to be away from him overnight, even if I know he’s right next door.”

“I totally get that.”

Kate put her hand on Little Guy’s back and looked like the last thing she wanted to do was leave.

“I’ll take excellent care. I promise.” I sent her a warm smile, hoping to ease her angst.

Reaper was on the porch behind her now. His eyes got warm and crinkly as he watched his wife’s conflicted emotions. “Kate? Lexi has this. We can go enjoy ourselves.”

Kate frowned and nodded, then turned and left with a backward wave.

I sat in my rocking chair, snuggling the baby into my chest, rhythmically patting his back. Bolero played on my sound system. I rocked with the beat, closing my eyes, letting stress just wash away.

Babies were magical.

I continued to rock long past Little Guy falling asleep.

I heard Striker come in and sit on the couch. I could feel his energy reaching out with curiosity and…stress. Yeah, well, I’d left the pregnancy test on the sink for him to see.

I opened my eyes. Striker held the plastic test in his hand. “Can we talk about this?”

Gesturing lamely toward the stick, I said, “I’m not pregnant.” I needed to own up to my infraction with Striker.

“I see that.” He stared down at the single pink line. “But you thought you might be?”

“I have to apologize. I didn’t take the pill this month. It was unconscious. I just…don’t know. I didn’t see them. It didn’t occur to me.” So very lame.

Striker nodded slowly. “We want kids.”

“Yes.”

“We decided to wait five years. Give your body a chance to recoup from all the things that have happened these last couple of years.”

I rolled my lips in and nodded.

“I want to be a dad when it’s safe for you. And when we feel the time is right.”

I nodded some more. Man, guilt was a painful mantle to wear. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

His gaze caught mine. “Are you ready to be pregnant?”

“No.”

Striker waited.

“Are you?”

“I’m looking forward to being a dad. I’m looking forward to your being pregnant. But I’m not going to rush you into anything. You have to decide when you’re ready. That’s body, mind, and spirit. I’d prefer that it was a planned pregnancy and not a mistake.”

“I’m sorry.” My focus was on the floor, contrite.

“No need for sorries, Lexi. None. I just want to be on the same page with you.”

“I made an appointment with the GYN. If you’d please wear a condom until I get a prescription for a no-brainer method...” I lifted my hand from Little Guy to waggle in the air. “The ring or a patch or something.”

“Not a problem. I just want you safe, and,” he dipped his head to the side and sent me a full-dimpled grin that righted everything about this fiasco, “I want to make sure we get to keep our sex lives in overdrive.”

I affected a cheesy Parisian accent. “I want you to paint me like one of your French girls.”

Striker laughed. “Which movie was that?”

“Titanic, I think.”

“Wrong accent then.” He stood and strode the two steps to the rocking chair. He dropped a kiss onto the now sleeping Little Guy’s head then gave me a long, slow kiss that told me everything was calm between us. “If it’s okay with you, I’m going to hit the gym down in your basement and take a shower before the invading horde gets here.”

“Enjoy.” I smiled. How did I get so lucky? In a sea of whitecaps and swells, he was always the miracle of calm and steady.

Little Guy made cooing noises, and his lips pulled back into a smile. “Milk dreams.”

Striker looked thoroughly charmed. He dropped a kiss into my hair. “When you’re ready, you’re going to be an amazing mother, Chica.”

“If we can ever get married.”

“We don’t have to be married to be parents.” He held up his hand. “I know it’s important to you. I think some of that importance is that the CIA made a mess of things.”

“Angel says he always thought he’d be dead pretty quickly, and it would never be a problem. That thought hurts. I want him alive and well and living his life not married to me, not lying to me, not putting me in line to commit crimes that I had no idea I was committing. Not being able to explain why we put off our wedding means people are speculating. Maybe we aren’t as in love as we said or as committed to each other.”

“Let them. What they think doesn’t count.”

“Still, I’m going to admit it, I’m a little jealous of Gator and Christen. I really hope they enjoy their new lives together.