Page 66 of The Mistletoe Mix-up

“Officer Little, is that you?” Sam called. “I didn’t think you knew what fun was.”

“Smug son of a bitch,” she muttered, launching herself off the porch at him. Her high ponytail swung like a lasso as she bent over to get a handful of snow. “You’ve been asking for this for weeks.”

“Well come on, hot stuff! Catch me if you can!”

Wren chased Sam around the yard, throwing snowballs at him. He chucked them back at her just as fast, laughing and slipping in the snow.

“Come on, Birdy, is that the best you got?” Sam teased, accidentally planting one in her face. Wren stopped in her tracks, wiping her eyes, and when he saw the fury there, he took off running.

If he hadn’t lost his footing at the edge of the lawn, there was no way she’d have been able to tackle him. Wren rode him to the ground, and he landed on his stomach with her weight on his back, knocking the wind out of him.

Sam groaned loudly, his arms trapped under his body. “You’ve killed me.”

“Serves you right, tossing snowballs at an officer of the law.”

Sam rolled, dislodging her from his back. When he could look up at her, Sam grabbed her arms and pulled her back down on top of him, grinning. They were far enough away from the others that they couldn’t hear him.

“What was that about ruining me for other women?” he said softly, his hands smoothing her back, under her jacket.

“Not here,” she whispered.

Sam stilled. “Because you don’t want anyone to know?”

Wren grinned, leaning down until her mouth grazed his ear. “Because what I want to do to you doesn’t require an audience.”

“Can I at least get a hint?” he asked, arching his hips against her, his cock already locked and loaded from just the feel of her. “Or should I tell you what I want?”

“Sam, it doesn’t matter what you want, because I won.”

A sharp sting to his face, and he realized while he’d been distracted, she’d picked up a handful of snow and pushed it into his face.

“I got you!” she crowed, trying to get up off him, but once he cleared some of the snow off his face, Sam lifted her up and got to his feet.

He pulled her against him, laughing. “And I got you.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“I mean, if you’re looking for someone to donate, I’ve got you. I’ll be your person.” Sam had no idea where the words came from, but he didn’t regret them. If this made Wren happy, he was more than willing to follow through.

It took her several seconds, and her eyes brightened, shimmering with unshed tears. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know I don’t, but you said you needed someone, right?” Sam shrugged, releasing her body but taking her hand. “Why not me? We’ve known each other a long time. I want to think we can make this work. I’m willing to sign whatever you want and stay in the background.”

“Why would you do that? Give up rights to a child? Won’t you regret it?”

Sam had offhandedly imagined being a dad, but it wasn’t something he had to do, a driving force in his life.

“No, because I’ll know they are in good hands.” Sam ran his free hand over his hair, wishing he’d practiced this and that they weren’t discussing it on the front lawn of someone else’s house with a snowball fight going on ten feet away. “You need to do this with somebody you trust, and I hope that person is me.”

Wren squeezed his hand hard, bringing it to her chest. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Just tell me when and where, and I’ll be there,” he said, feeling like a king as she looked up at him warmly, his chest tightening at her wide, affectionate smile.

“If there was ever a time I wanted to kiss you, this would be it,” Wren said softly, her mouth brushing over his knuckles.

“People will talk,” Sam murmured, her lips on his skin leaving tingles of joy behind.

Wren pulled him around the corner of the alleyway, behind the neighbor’s house, and pushed him against the wall.