Page 18 of The Mistletoe Mix-up

Wren glanced up at him, frowning. “You’re in finance, and you’ve never heard of a nondisclosure agreement?”

“I have, but why do I need to sign one to have drinks with you?”

A server brought over their drinks and the Idaho nachos, which was a basket of French fries covered in nacho cheese, meat, beans, sour cream, guacamole, and salsa.

“Thank you, Larry,” Wren said, then turned back to Steve. “Because some of the things we may talk about during dinner are sensitive information, and I’d rather go into this without any worry or stress.”

Steve picked up the papers, flipping through them until he reached the back page. “Are you a former CIA agent or something?”

Wren laughed. “No, but my job is another reason why I want to keep my private life private.”

“You know that to make this legal, you have to have it notarized, right?” Steve asked.

“That’s why Larry is still here. He works at the post office during the day and at Brews and Chews on weekends.”

Larry nodded grimly. “Child support, man.”

“Alright, do you have a—” Wren held out a pen to Steve before he could finish, and he signed the document, setting the paper and pen off to the side. Her breath whooshed out with relief as she took the pen and the contract, handing them to Larry.

“I’ll be right back with this,” Larry said, leaving her alone with Steve again.

Steve released an awkward chuckle. “Well, now that we’ve gotten all the legalities out of the way, are you ready to tell me your deep, dark secrets?”

“I really don’t have any,” Wren said, nodding at him. “You?”

“No, not really.”

“That’s good. Have you ever donated sperm?”

Steve was taking a drink when she asked, and he spewed the liquid back into the glass and down his chin.

“Oh, sorry! I guess I should have waited until you finished drinking before I dived right in.” Wren twisted her hands in front of her on the table. “I’m a little nervous.”

Steve grabbed the napkin she held out to him and wiped his chin. “No, I haven’t donated sperm before.”

“That’s great, because I saw this documentary about a guy who donated so much sperm that he fathered over a thousand kids, and it grossed me out.”

“I haven’t fathered any children, through donation or otherwise,” he said slowly, as if trying to figure out where she was headed with this conversation.

“Would you be open to private sperm donation?” Wren asked, tapping her pen on the tabletop.

“This is a strange line of questioning for a first date,” Steve said, spooning out a section of Idaho nachos onto his plate.

“Oh, this isn’t really a date.”

Steve quirked a brow. “Okay, whatever you call it, I thought you were interested in something casual.”

“There isn’t exactly a category for what I’m looking for, but casual seemed to be the closest.”

Steve frowned. “I thought you were looking to hook up.”

“Mostly, I’m looking for sperm.” At his horrified expression, she continued, “Not for anything weird! I want to have kids, but not necessarily be in a relationship, so I am looking for professional men between twenty-five and forty who would be willing to donate and sign over their parental rights. There is a clinic in Sun Valley—”

“Whoa!” Steve held up his hands, waving them in front of him like he was surrendering. “Are you being serious right now?”

“Yes.”

“You—” Steve laughed, the sound ending on a high, panicked note. “I have been out on some weird dates, but this is the first time I’ve had anyone ask for bodily fluids.” Steve leaned forward, smirking. “You know, you could have just taken me home and gotten it the old-fashioned way?”