Page 23

23

ORSON

“C an I get fries with the hot beef sandwich?” Orson asked, looking over the menu curiously.

“Sorry, no.” The waitress looked like she’d heard the request before. “We don’t have a fryer. Bears.”

He looked up at her and smiled. “I don’t want a fried bear. I want fried potatoes.”

Alex gave a snort and explained, “They don’t have a fryer because the waste oil attracts bears, and they already have enough trouble with them.”

“Oh.” Orson had to admit that fried food did smell delicious as a bear. He sometimes regretted how keen his sense of smell could be as a bear shifter—deodorant and perfume could be nauseating—but food was a special delight. It was useful for tracking people, when he remembered to. “Chips will be fine, then.”

The waitress gave Alex an approving look and took their orders to the kitchen.

“Orson…”

He loved it when she said his name. It made his bear wiggle happily. It didn’t sound like a baby name on her lips.

“It means bear cub,” he confessed to her.

“What?”

“Orson. My name. My brothers never let me forget it.”

“Siblings are like that,” Alex said with a smirk.

“Have you thought about that?” Orson asked impulsively.

“Siblings?”

“How many kids you might want?”

For a moment, he was afraid she was going to stand up and knock him on his ass again. He was ready for her this time, so she’d have more trouble getting through his defenses.

But she didn’t look mad, she looked thoughtful. “A little,” she said reluctantly.

“Two, at least,” Orson said eagerly. “So they entertain each other. More than three might require a minivan. Which I wouldn’t mind driving, don’t get me wrong. Just a thing to think about.”

“You have thought about this,” Alex observed.

“I’d stay home with them. You’re way better at business stuff than me, and I’ve got cousins. I know how to change a diaper and won’t give them sharp things. I don’t mind being a soccer dad if they’re athletic. Or a Mathletes dad if they’re all smart like their mom. I’m not asking you to give up your job. Though you’d have to have the babies. I couldn’t do that part. Biology, you know.”

“Biology,” Alex said faintly.

“And it doesn’t have to be right away, of course. When we’re ready.”

“And if I didn’t want any?” Alex sounded a little dangerous. “Ever?”

No cubs? His grizzly pouted.

Orson smothered him. “That’s okay. I can be a stay-at-home husband without kids. I’ll take up an expensive hobby, and you can be my sugar mama.”

“Your sugar mama?!” Alex’s outrage was everything he’d hoped it would be.

“I have no shame. I’m completely happy to be a kept man.”

The waitress arrived with their meals and had heard enough of the conversation to give Orson a long, skeptical look as she put his sandwich in front of him. Alex took a vicious bite of her grilled cheese. “Three,” she said briefly.

“You want three kept men? I read about that once. It sounded pretty hot, but I might be the jealous type…”

She laughed crumbs into her napkin. “Kids!” she clarified when she had gotten herself under control. “Three kids! I…think that would be about right.”

“You will be the best mom,” Orson said without the slightest hesitation. “I can picture it now. You’ll teach the girls self-defense and ten speeds and I’ll teach their brother how to shoot and scratch himself.” He demonstrated the scratching and Alex kicked him under the table as she got her sandwich under control again.

This was everything he wanted in the world. It didn’t matter that their hotel room had two tiny beds, or that they were in a tiny, cheap shipping container passing itself off as a building halfway to nowhere. If Alex was there with him, it was a palace, and he wanted to start making those babies right now in their room with paper-thin walls.

She must have guessed that from his look, because she kicked him under the table again. “Keep your pants on, hot shot,” she warned. “I’m not thinking right this minute. I want a little time to figure this all out.”

“We could practice, though,” Orson suggested seriously. “We wouldn’t want to do it wrong when we go to actually do it.”

They laughed, but Orson was sure that anything he did with Alex couldn’t ever be the slightest bit wrong.