Page 7 of The Paternity Puzzle
“Hey! Can I have my towel?”
Sawyer reappeared in the doorframe and lobbed it at him. Royce snatched it out of the air but didn’t cover his body. Sawyer took one last look at Royce before emitting a low growl and ducking out of the room. Royce rubbed the towel over his head to wick away the excess water and then moved lower. What did a guy wear to a fertility clinic to donate sperm for a future child? He wanted to present himself as a suitable candidate for fatherhood, but what did that look like? Eddie wore faded jeans, Harley Davidson shirts, and sometimes a leather vest. Barron Key’s idea of casual wear included khaki pants and a pressed polo shirt.
“Twenty-five minutes, Dickhead!” Sawyer called down the hallway. “I’m starting the bacon, and I don’t want to hear any complaints that it’s too chewy or too crispy.”
“You better watch your choice of endearments during our appointment, Asshole,” Royce returned. “They won’t give us a baby.”
“They have no say in the matter. They’re not an adoption agency. We’re paying them to transfer our viable sperm inside Kelsey’s uterus.”
Transferring sounded way more clinical than blasting it in there with a syringe and a tube. “We can’t afford to take chances,” Royce said. “That’s why I can’t figure out what to wear.” He’d put on something similar to Sawyer, but the heat inhis husband’s eyes had distracted him from noticing the clothes he’d chosen. “What are you wearing?”
“You just saw me.”
“We’re probably down to twenty-three minutes,” Royce pointed out. “And you know damn well why I didn’t notice your clothes.”
“Jeans, a plain blue T-shirt, and tennis shoes.”
Royce shrugged and grabbed a gray shirt, jeans, and underwear from his drawers and dressed hastily. When he reached the kitchen, Sawyer had breakfast going on the stove. Royce stepped up behind him and wrapped his arms around Sawyer’s waist. The bacon grease popped in the skillet, and some of it splattered on his arm. He opened the cabinet next to the stove, removed a grease splatter screen, and set it on top of the skillet.
“Can’t believe I forgot that nifty tool,” Sawyer said. “I’m the one who showed you how to use it.”
“You’re just really excited about today and probably running on autopilot.” Royce looked around the room. “Where are the fur children?”
“Off pouting somewhere.” Sawyer stepped aside so Royce could take over the bacon duties while he started on the eggs. “I got stingy with their treats this morning when I noticed how much lighter the bags had gotten in my absence.”
Busted.“But we missed you so much.”
Sawyer’s mouth curved into a wry smile. “That’s what I took Bones’ and Dolly’s pitiful meows and yips to mean.”
“Did it work?”
A dark brow shot upward. “What do you think?”
“I think they’re hiding somewhere and crying,” Royce teased.
“And how did you compensate for your loneliness?”
Royce pursed his lips together so he wouldn’t confess to the number of bear claws he’d eaten while Sawyer was in Denver.
“You had a pastry palooza, didn’t you?” Sawyer pressed. “A gluten gluttony.”
“We only have fifteen minutes before we need to leave to make our baby.” Royce’s deflection was a cheap trick, but a very useful one because Sawyer’s face lit up like a Christmas tree.
“Want to hear about the dream I had last night?” Sawyer asked.
Royce growled and waggled his brows. “Was I there?”
Sawyer leaned in for a quick kiss. “Always.” A wistful expression softened his features. “I dreamed we had a little girl.” He turned and looked at Royce. “And she was a little spitfire, just like you.”
A boulder formed in Royce’s throat. “I would love to have a daughter with you.” Staring into Sawyer’s eyes would cause a burned breakfast and give them a late start to the clinic, so he kept his attention on finishing the bacon. “What did we name her?”
“I didn’t get that far,” Sawyer said. “Maybe one of us said it, but I got swept away by our daughter’s perfection.” He finished the eggs and moved the skillet to the back burner. “Do you want toast, or do you plan on making a breakfast burrito?”
“Burrito,” Royce said as he transferred their perfectly cooked bacon to a plate lined with paper towels.
Sawyer rummaged around in the refrigerator to find the condiments Royce preferred on his burrito. He set the hot sauce, Duke’s mayonnaise, shredded cheese, and sliced jalapeños on the counter. “Your sperm are going to think they’re little Don Juans today.”
Royce cupped Sawyer’s neck and dragged him closer. “And yours are going to think they’re Ted Mullins, always following the rules and paying their credit card bills early.” Sawyer shook with laughter until Royce kissed him hard. “I can’t wait for our Dons and Teds to play together when we get back home.”Sawyer’s breath sounded shaky, and his pulse hammered in his throat. “We’re probably down to twelve minutes now.”