“I know you are,” she confirmed, taking a bite of chicken. Her demeanor hadn’t changed.
“I’m thirty-three, Catherine. I’m a single dad. When Isla’s home, I don’t go out much. I work, train, and travel during the season, and when I’m home, I’m with her. That’s my life.”
She set her fork down. “You say that like it’s supposed to scare me off.”
“It should at least make you think.”
“It does make me think.” She leaned back in her chair. “It makes me think you’re a good man.”
I stared at her.
She shrugged. “I’m not a huge party girl, Hunter. Billie Rose drags me out. I like going out sometimes, but that isn’t my whole personality. I spent most of medical school studying, working, and sleeping when possible.”
“You’re twenty-four.”
“And tired,” she added.
I laughed despite myself.
She smiled, then continued. “And my parents did the same thing. Dad was on the road a lot, but when he was home, he was home. Mom was busy, especially when I was younger, but she always made sure I knew I mattered. They built a life around family and work. I understand that.”
“And you want that?” I asked. I knew it was too many questions too soon, but she was different, and something inside me wouldn’t let up. I was laying it all out because I couldn’t afford heartbreak at this stage of my life.
Her answer came fast. “Yes.”
The certainty in her voice threw me.
She looked down at her plate, then back at me. “I want to be as good a parent as my mom and dad.”
Something shifted in my chest. It was too much. Too sweet and real.
“How many kids do you want?” I asked before I could stop myself.
“Three or four.”
I choked on my sparkling water.
Catherine’s eyes widened. “OMG.”
I grabbed my napkin and coughed into it while she burst into laughter.
“Are you okay?” she asked, her tone worried.
“Fine,” I wheezed.
“You asked.” She shrugged.
“I didn’t know you were going to say a whole lineup,” I snickered.
“Three or four is not a lineup,” she countered.
“It’s a penalty kill unit.”
She laughed harder. “Why is that so scary to you? We’re not together. I didn’t ask you to father them.”
I stared at her. Wrong thing to picture. My brain immediately pictured Catherine pregnant, in my kitchen, wearing one of my shirts, and I needed to leave my own condo.
“Hunter?”