Harlequin Special Edition May 2019, Box Set 2 of 2 by Christine Rimmer

Author:Christine Rimmer
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2019-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“I was starting to worry that you might have gotten lost,” Regan said to Connor, when he returned from his walk the next morning.

Baxter raced over to her chair for the pat on the head that he figured was his due. Then he raced into the living room, no doubt looking for the twins, and upstairs to the master bedroom, where he dropped to the floor to stand guard in his usual position outside the door after finding them.

Connor washed his hands at the sink, then retrieved a mug from the cupboard and filled it with coffee. “I ran into an old friend from high school.”

She didn’t ask if it was anyone she knew, because there had been little—if any—overlap between their social circles when they were teenagers.

“Do you want me to make you some breakfast?” she asked.

“Mmm…” He sounded intrigued by the offer. “Belgian waffles with fresh berries and powdered sugar would be good.”

“You had Belgian waffles at brunch yesterday,” she reminded him. “How about scrambled eggs and toast?”

“Eggs and toast sound good, too,” he agreed. “But I’ll make them.”

“I know how to break eggs,” she remarked dryly.

“You’re also going to be up and down with the twins all day, so why don’t you sit for ten minutes and let me take care of breakfast?”

It sounded perfectly reasonable—considerate, even. And yet, she couldn’t help but wonder if this was another example of her husband attempting to ensure that they didn’t fall into any kind of usual married couple routines.

“I’m not fragile, Connor.”

“I know.”

“And I don’t need you to take care of me.”

“Maybe I want to,” he said. “It seems only fair, since you spend so much time taking care of Piper and Poppy.”

She shrugged. “In that case, I like my eggs with Tabasco mixed in and cheese melted on top.”

He set a frying pan on the stove to heat, then retrieved the necessary ingredients from the fridge.

“I’m sorry about last night,” she said, as he whisked the eggs. “Not about what happened—or almost happened—but about the interruption.”

“There’s no need to apologize.” He shook a few drops of Tabasco into the egg mixture and continued whisking. “And anyway, it was probably best that we didn’t take things too far.”

She frowned at that. “How’s that best?”

“Getting intimate would only complicate our situation,” he explained, as he dropped bread into the slots of the toaster.

“We’re married. Isn’t physical intimacy usually a key component of that situation?”

“Except that ours isn’t a usual marriage,” he reminded her.

“I’ll concede that sex usually comes before marriage and children,” she said.

He poured the egg mixture into the hot pan. “And you only gave birth two weeks ago,” he reminded her.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Pregnancy and childbirth take a toll on your body, not just physically but emotionally, and it’s going to take some time for your hormone levels to recalibrate and—”

“You’re not seriously trying to explain postpartum physiology to me, are you?” she asked, cutting him off.

“Of course not,” he denied, as he pushed the eggs around in the pan with the spatula.

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