Be My Hero (Forbidden Men 3)

I hurried around the car to trail my fingers up his back. "Because he looks just like his daddy."

Pick winked at me as he tugged the carrier free. "Be careful, Tink. Or I'll be ready to start making baby number five."

I moaned. "I think four's enough."

"Oh, come on. We don't even have a basketball team yet." When I shot him a glare, he laughed.

It still irked Pick that he'd never had a glimpse of baby number four. After Chloe had been born, he was so sure that was all the kids we'd have. But then I'd gotten pregnant again, and honestly, it tickled me pink that he'd been so stunned. The first few years of our marriage had been grossly unfair. He'd known every big thing that was ever going to happen. He'd known Chloe was going to be a girl, he'd known this would be our home from the moment we'd taken a tour and stepped into the backyard. But now he was just as clueless about the future as I was. And it felt good to finally know as much as he did.

The door to the house opened before we reached it.

"Hold the baby! Hold the baby!" hollered a small blur I knew to be Gracen, Thing One of the terrible Lowe duo. "Baby."

Pick caught Reese's son around th

e waist with one arm as he continued to carry the new baby in his carrier with the other.

"Not on your life, pal," he told Gracen.

When the toddler began to kick his feet, Pick thrust him at his mother when she too hurried outside, smiling wide. "Here. Control your child."

"Oh, did he get out?" Reese swept the boy up high into her arms and made him squeal with laughter.

"Hold baby," Gracen demanded.

Reese laughed and kissed his nose. "Me first, squirt."

Julian was the first to tackle us when we came through the door. "Mom! You're home. No one told us you were home already. Are you okay?"

"I'm wonderful." I hugged him to my waist and ruffled his dark curls. "Glad to be home with you again. How are things . . . here?"

Wow, there really was something unidentifiable and blue dripping from our ceiling.

He looked up at me and grinned, his dark eyes warm with adoration. "We were going to make you a special supper."

"And clean," Reese added ruefully.

I glanced around the front room, only for my jaw to fall open. Behind me, Pick murmured, "Oh dear God. Did a bomb go off in here?"

"Nope. Only three two-year-olds and two eight-year-olds," Reese answered.

"I did not make any of this mess," Skylar announced as she went to Pick to get a look at her newest little sibling. "Oh, my goodness," she murmured, her eyes wide with awe. "He's so small."

Pick ruffled her hair and pulled her against his side. "Trust me; you were a lot smaller than this when you were born."

"No way." Her eyes were wide and she leaned in to get a closer look.

Mason appeared in the doorway from the kitchen hall, his arms full of Chloe. My youngest daughter was a major uncle's girl and clung to poor Mason whenever he was around. Spotting me, she grinned and pointed. "Mama." But she seemed satisfied to stay right where she was.

"Where's Thing Two?" Pick asked, glancing around suspiciously for Miss Isabella, the second twin. She made Gracen seem mild when she was around.

"Asleep," Mason answered. Then he hitched his chin toward the carrier. "What do you have there, Pick?"

Pick glanced at me and grinned, and I felt so full of love, surrounded by my favorite people on earth. Lifting his son, Pick announced, "Everyone, meet Patrick Mason Ryan."

The End