I'm in It (The Reed Brothers 10)

“Where is Henry?” I ask, suddenly concerned.

“He’s not feeling well.”

“I’ll call and check on him tomorrow.”

“Well, stay safe. And text your old man sometimes, would you? I don’t want to find out where you are from the tabloids.”

“Yes, sir,” I reply. He hangs up without saying anything else. “You heard? He’s sending security to us. They’ll be here tomorrow.”

“Glorified drivers,” Mick says.

“With weapons and kick-ass martial arts skills.”

“I’ll never get another moment alone with you, will I?” he asks, as he hands me a spoon. I stick it into the ice cream and lift it toward my mouth, but just before it gets there, Mick grabs my arm and takes it for himself.

“You ate my ice cream,” I say, pretending to be indignant.

He scoops some up with his own spoon and holds it out to me. I grab his arm so he can’t pull back, and then I eat it. “This is good stuff,” he says as he shovels another spoon of it into his mouth.

“I wouldn’t know,” I say drolly.

“Oh, quit pouting,” he teases as he gives me another bite.

I take the container from him and then crawl across his lap so that I’m sitting with my legs facing the other end. He grabs my hip and pulls me closer. “You always smell so good,” he says as he nuzzles the side of my neck with his nose.

“You do too,” I admit.

“I do?” He lifts his shirt and sniffs it.

“What do you wear?”

“Deodorant,” he says on a laugh. He lifts his arm. “Which I sorely need to use again. I should go shower.”

“Devon was the last one in there, so it might be a mess,” I warn.

“Boys,” he says. Just that one word. It needs no more explanation.

“Do you want kids?” I ask casually.

He rocks his head back and forth like he’s trying to decide. “Maybe.”

I freeze. “What does that mean?”

“It means if the time is right and the woman is right and the finances are right and everything else is right with the world, I probably would.”

I shove his shoulder. “You love kids.” Why would he put so many stipulations on it?

“I do.”

“Where did you learn to do all the things you do with kids?” I ask, knowing I’m prying but hoping he won’t care.

“I had an old girlfriend who had two kids when I met her.” He lifts my legs and sets me off his lap.

“Oh,” I say. “What happened?”

“We broke up.” He goes into the bathroom and closes the door.

Something tells me the woman in question was Nicky. She was probably the love of his life, the woman he’d hoped to spend forever with. And suddenly I can’t taste the ice cream anymore.