Forever Wild (The Simple Wild #2.5) - K.A. Tucker Page 0,17

across his lap.

And then I let out a low groan of delight as he begins rubbing my sore feet.

“Oh, Marie says hi.”

“Muriel suckered her into helping out, too?”

“No. She was just there in the morning to drop off an auction prize. A bunch of pet food and toys. And, hey, I didn’t get suckered into anything. Muriel highlighted how my talents and contributions have proven invaluable to the town, and so I graciously offered my services.”

Jonah smirks. “What’d she have you do today?”

“You mean, what didn’t she have me do.” I yank off my elf’s hat and settle my head back against the throw pillow. Jonah’s skilled thumbs work magic on my heels as I describe a day of rooting through dusty storage boxes, climbing a wobbly ladder a dozen times to string lights, and corralling the youngest and most impressionable of Trapper’s Crossing’s children as they scampered to Santa Teddy’s lap to relay urgent, last-minute requests.

“The kid peed on him?”

“Two kids peed on him,” I correct. “But this one was the first kid of the night, and he must have had a full bladder.” A chubby-cheeked, three-year-old boy named Thomas who whispered about wanting a train set by the same name while staring at Teddy’s bushy white beard, mesmerized.

And then he let loose.

I didn’t realize what was happening until Teddy, ever the jovial one, peered down at the small puddle forming by his feet.

“Teddy excused himself and went to the back room to change his pants. They have a spare because apparently, he gets peed on every year.”

Jonah’s head falls back in a burst of deep laughter.

“Shhh! You’ll wake them up!” I warn, nudging his thigh with my toes, but I’m giggling, too.

“Remind me to never agree to do anything like that.”

“I thought you wanted kids,” I mock.

“Not to piss on me.”

“That’s what they do. They pee and vomit on you, and they smear their poop all over the walls like it’s finger paint.” According to Sharon, anyway. I’ve kept in touch with the old receptionist from Alaska Wild over email. She and Max are enjoying their time in Portland with baby Thor, though she says Max is itching to come back.

“Fine. My kids can do that on me. Other kids can do that on someone else.”

I smile. Hearing Jonah talk about kids and being a parent doesn’t spark the same tension it used to, back when we were charging headfirst into this relationship without pause. In fact, it no longer fazes me. Sometimes I find myself wondering how many we’ll end up having, what they’ll be, and who they’ll take after more. Will they have my hair? Jonah’s eyes?

Will Jonah’s son inherit those same adorable dimples that used to hide behind that unruly beard of his?

His stubbornness?

His love of flying?

Jonah catches me staring at him. A curious look flickers across his face. “What?”

“Nothing.” The truth is, if we had a repeat of this past summer and the pregnancy test turned out positive rather than a scare, I don’t think I’d be so fearful of the idea. At the same time, I’m not ready to share Jonah’s undivided attention just yet. “What happened here? Besides the epic disaster in the kitchen.”

“Not much. Came home around one, moved them over, we hung out, ate dinner.”

“No more fighting with Björn?”

“He had a four-hour nap, woke up in time for my mom to serve him his dinner, and then he went back to bed an hour ago. I barely saw him.” Jonah smirks. “Let’s hope jet lag messes with him until he leaves.”

Not likely, but a sleepy Björn might make for a more pleasant Christmas under this roof.

Jonah peels off my sock and wraps his large hands around my foot so I don’t feel the chill. “My mom brought up the wedding. Asked if we’ve thought about a date yet.”

“Yeah, she mentioned it this morning, too.” “With her health the way it is, I don’t want her flying back and forth for our wedding.”

I knew that was coming. “What did she say about it?”

“It doesn’t matter what she says. She’ll still fly, even if she shouldn’t. But I’m not good with it.”

“I know.” And, as much as Jonah jokes about running off and eloping, I know he would want his mother there. “What do you want to do, then?” I feel like I already know where this conversation is heading, and a tiny, selfish part of me wants to resist.

Jonah bites his lip in thought, watching me carefully. “I was thinking—”

“You are