Depends On Who's Asking (SWAT Generation 2.0 12)

My mother, who was busy half-ass making pancakes, looked over her shoulder.

“You want to know what is making me antsy? The lack of grandbabies in my life. Nico has grandbabies. Why don’t I have grandbabies?” Mom asked, batting her eyelashes innocently.

I felt my belly tighten at the thought of giving her grandbabies.

Not because it didn’t appeal to me, but because it did.

Babies didn’t fit with my schedule right now.

I was trying to prove myself as a judge—the youngest in the whole state of Texas, and a girl at that—that meant that I should focus on my career a little bit. Not my yearning for a baby.

Yet… the thought of having a baby with Saint’s bright green eyes, his chestnut hair, and cute little baby glasses? That was what was on my mind when it should be cases, putting some hours in wearing my robe, and generally kicking ass and taking names.

But it wasn’t on my mind.

Hadn’t been for a long while.

“Nico’s one of the few original SWAT guys without multiple grandbabies,” I said to my mother. “But Saint and I are pretty serious. I… I’d like to add some grandbabies to the mix.”

My mother gasped and stopped her half-ass attempt at pancakes. “Our Christmas morning breakfast is now officially over,” my brother grumbled.

“We can go get some donuts or something from that other store,” Clayton offered.

We all groaned.

That ‘other store’ just wasn’t Dillan’s place. Wasn’t as good quality, and we didn’t like them nearly as much. But, on holidays, Dillan’s place sold out very, very fast. When they were out, they were out, and she went home to spend the day with her family.

Want to know why we know that? Because we learned that lesson the hard way over Thanksgiving.

“Let’s talk about these babies.” My mother grinned maniacally. “When will they be happening?”

“Mom.” I felt my face flame. “We haven’t even said ‘I love you’ to each other yet.”

She scoffed. “The way your daddy tells it, that boy loves the hell out of you. Just because you haven’t said it yet doesn’t mean that you don’t feel it.”

That was true.

I felt it. I was just too chickenshit to say it.

“Your man’s here,” Clayton said from the living room. “And it kind of looks like it might be snowing.”

I gasped and ran to the door, not because it was snowing—which was a miracle in and of itself when it came to Texas—but because I wanted to see Saint.

The man did things for me that my family just wasn’t capable of doing.

I flung open the door just as Smoke bounded out of the truck. Saint reached into the back seat of his truck and produced four boxes of donuts.

I gasped in double surprise.

“Donuts!” I cried as I hurried to where Saint was standing.

He placed the donuts on the hood of the truck and caught me up in his arms.

I wasn’t excited about the donuts. I was excited about him.

And he saw that in my eyes as I was running toward him.

The moment that our bodies met, so did our mouths.

“Oh my God!” Connor yelled. “Clayton, come watch them suck face! It’s disgusting.”

I pulled back and looked down into Saint’s eyes. “Are you sure about this? I come with two very annoying, very juvenile, very adult men that make it a habit to make my life miserable.”

He started to chuckle.

“I think I can handle two brothers that care about you,” he said. “Even if they’re annoying sometimes.”

I felt like there was something more he wasn’t telling me when it came to what he’d just said, but he said, “Climb around to my back. Your feet are bare and it’s snowing out here.”

I didn’t bother to argue.

I did have to have his support in moving me until I was at his back, though. Apparently, I didn’t have nearly the upper body strength that was needed to make this happen gracefully.

Once I was settled, my arms around his neck, carefully avoiding his stitches, and my legs around his waist, he picked up the donut boxes and started walking toward the front door.

My mother was standing there with Connor and Clayton nowhere in sight.

“I made your brothers go inside and wash their hands like they were children since that was what they were acting like,” she said. “It’s nice to see you again, Saint. Merry Christmas.”

When Saint got close to my mom, he dropped a kiss onto her cheek.

My dad growled from across the room. “Keep your lips off my woman.”

I slid down Saint’s back as I was rolling my eyes.

“You’re weird,” I said as I walked toward him and washed my own hands before starting another pot of coffee.

“Sorry, sir.” Saint sounded amused as he set the boxes of donuts on the counter near everyone. “Sorry I’m late. Thought I’d make up for it by bringing donuts for later, but looks like we’re having them now?”