Page 67 of Avery's Hero

Drawn by the tantalizing, magnetic scent of myfavoritefood—not by the sight of him, I swear—I take a step toward the island. I glare at him as he watches me with a small, victorious smile on his lips.

“Youcan’t just be throwing out theMword.”

“The M word?”

“MOM, for heaven’s sake.”

Leaning on his elbow, he drags his finger through the icing again. “Never thought about being a mom? I think you’d be excellent.”

A shudder runs through me. “Mom stuff scares me. I don’t have any clue what to do with a baby.”

“You’d do fine, sweetheart. All those book-smarts, you’d have it figured out in a jiff. Besides—” His words fall off as he licks his finger again.

“Besides, what?” I growl as I lunge the final step to the island and fight the urge to grab one of those rolls. My stomach lets out a mighty growl.

His eyes crinkle with a smile as he scoops up more icing and lifts it to my mouth.

God, it’s tempting. I should bite it. Just because.

But I lick the icing off instead and groan.

Sweet heaven coats my tongue. I have to restrain myself from diving on the pan and inhaling every one of the darn things.

When I raise my eyes to him, he’s watching me with burning eyes and parted lips.

After I lick the remaining icing off my lip, I ask, “Besides, what?”

Never looking away from my lips, he says, “I’ve done it.”

Totally confused, I stare at him. “What?”

“Raised a baby.”

Puzzled, I tilt my head. “I thought you were gone with the Marines.”

“Not until Lincoln was three. I was flipping houses and did a little real estate investing before, but I always knew I’d serve. All the men in my family have. I was just waiting for the right time. When things started going south with Tamara, I knew it was the best way for us to get space, and for me to be of true service.”

My brain whirs as my mouth twists.

It’s his turn to tilt his head and study me. “What?”

“You… you just surprise me.”

He slides a square white plate in front of me and uses a spatula to lift two fat cinnamon rolls onto it.

“I think that’s a good thing,” he says with a brow lifted.

“It is. But it doesn’t give you the right to throw mom conversations around when I’ve just crawled out of bed. Especially when you’ve knocked my brains out to the stratosphere.”

He reaches for his coffee, sips from the mug slowly. I notice he doesn’t apologize. Trying not to look at him, I pick up a gooey roll and take a bite.

Of course he’d wait until I had a mouthful to drop a bomb on me.

“Seeing you all sexed up and hot in my shirt padding into the kitchen, made me think about how much I’d like to have you pregnant with my child.”

Holy. Mother. Of. God.

Somehow, I manage to swallow without choking to death. But barely. I start coughing.

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