All We Want (Alabama Summer Book 6)

  All We Want

  Copyright@2018 J. Daniels.

  All Rights Reserved

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and other elements portrayed herein are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real persons or events is coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior permission of the author.

  Cover Design

  Sarah Hansen, Okay Creations

  Interior Design & Formatting

  Christine Borgford, Type A Formatting

  Contents

  ALL WE WANT

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  A message from the author

  Sneak Peek at Hit the Spot

  Acknowledgements

  Books by J. Daniels

  About The Author

  “GOOD OR BAD, if this works out or if it doesn’t, tell me you know—I’m not going anywhere.” I pause, meeting her eyes when she lifts them off my shirt.

  She blinks.

  I swallow the lump forming in my throat. “Tell me I’ve done my fuckin’ job as your man, Tessa, and made sure you aren’t doubting that. `Cause if I haven’t and that’s what’s got you stuck in your head thinkin’ the worst the way you’re doing right fuckin’ now, the way I’ve watched you do the past five months, my life might as well end right here, `cause I don’t deserve shit. Not you. Not anything more than this. Nothing.”

  “Luke,” she whispers, lips trembling as those damn tears well up in her eyes again.

  “I’m a fuckin’ asshole,” I continue on. “I know what I am. I know what I’ve done and all the bad I got coming to me. I haven’t exactly been a model son. More times than I can count, I’ve been a worthless friend. I’m basically a prick to everyone. And landing you? Fuck, that was . . . I don’t know. Crazy fuckin’ luck, or maybe the universe cutting me a break for once in my goddamned life. I’ve been shit on a lot, but that doesn’t mean I’m worth dick. I know that. And the good you give me, babe? The good I feel every fuckin’ day knowing I’m attached to you is more good than I ever fuckin’ deserve to feel. I know it is. I’m not stupid. Honest to God, I basically walk around waiting for you to figure it out and question what the fuck you’re even doing with me. So you gotta know, Tessa, if this is it? If we can’t have a kid for whatever reason and it’s just me and you for the rest of our lives? I’m good. Babe, I am so fuckin’ good. I might not walk around grinning like a fuckin’ idiot every second of the day like Reed does, or get that stupid, fuckin’ dopey look on my face like Ben when he talks about Mia, but I’m right there. I’m just as fucked over you, and nothing’s ever changing that. Kid or no kid. Ask me.”

  Tessa goes to wipe the tears from her cheeks but I do it for her, then keeping my hands on either side of her face, I pull her in so our foreheads are touching.

  “Ask me,” I say again, watching her mouth twitch. “I don’t need anything else. I swear to God, I don’t.”

  “But you want kids,” she whispers.

  “I want you. Everything else is just bonus.”

  ~So Much More

  WHAT IS THIS—National Show Off Your Pregnancy Day or something? Really? I’m surrounded by baby bumps!

  Not that it isn’t expected for pregnant women to be sitting in waiting rooms like this. Moms-to-be visit their OBGYNs regularly. This is the norm. I get that. But did every knocked-up chick in Ruxton, Alabama get appointments on the same day as me? Couldn’t there be one other person sitting in here who isn’t already obviously pregnant?

  I shift my gaze around the room.

  There are eight other women waiting. I don’t look at their faces. I can’t. I couldn’t tell you what color their hair is or if some of them are wearing glasses or not. The only thing I see are protruding bellies, each one bigger than the next.

  I press against the hollow center of my own stomach before fidgeting with my too-loose, will it always be this-loose tank. I tug the thin material away from my body.

  God, could I stand out any more right now?

  I should be used to this. Up until three months ago, two of my best friends, Mia and Beth, were pregnant at the same time. Beth gave birth to her daughter Layla in March. The first of many, I’m sure, for her and Reed.

  Mia is due with the third Kelly boy next month.

  Fitting. My brother is entirely too alpha to produce anything besides males. I’m calling it now—they’ll never have any daughters.

  Everyone important to me is growing their own little tribes. And I’m happy for them. Honestly, I am.

  But it’s been a year, a year since Luke and I decided we were ready to expand our own family. A year of trying harder than any other couple ever. At least that’s what it feels like to me. A year of monthly disappointments and this overwhelming worry I can’t seem to shake.

  So even though I’ve become accustomed to seeing swollen stomachs every direction I turn, it still gets to me. I worry it always will.

  What if that’s never me? What if I never get pregnant?

  A nurse steps out into the waiting room and calls a name, silencing the questions that circle in my mind more often than not.

  I watch an expectant mother slowly ease out of her chair and waddle her way across the room. She’s glowing.

  My leg won’t stop bouncing against the seat. Can anxiety cause a heart attack? I fear I’m one stressful thought away from keeling over right now.

  The door leading out to the hallway swings open, and my head lifts just as Luke steps into the room.

  He’s wearing his police uniform and looks so fucking hot on any day of the week, but especially work days, that I momentarily forget just how uncomfortable and out of place I feel right now.

  My breath catches in my throat and my body stills as I gaze at my husband.

  I’ve always reacted this way to him. Even that very first day we met, at the Ruxton PD fundraiser all those years ago, when I tried to play off how interested I was by acting like he was just another guy, when he could never be just another guy. No way.

  Luke Evans is a stunner. I’m talking ‘leave you speechless and drooling all over yourself’ level of attractive. It’s ridiculous.

  Tall and fit, with the perfect amount of muscle to him. Not overly bulky. Tattoos decorating his upper body. And his face? Shut up. He looks like a roughed-up model who’s constantly pissed off about something. And I realize some women might turn their noses up at that description if they heard it, but they’d change their tune the second they saw Luke Evans. Trust me.

  The fact that he looks two seconds away from throwing a punch ninety percent of the time is possibly the most attractive thing about him.

  Our gazes lock after he closes the door, those beautiful amber eyes holding me, warming the blood slow moving in my veins. A gentle smile tugs at his mouth, and I see the apology written all over his face for not getting here until now, for my own discomfort he can read like an open fucking book. Luke hates me having to go through any of this alone, but I’m not. He’s here.

  Thank God, he’s here.

  “Hey,” I murmur, dropping my head on his shoulder when he takes the seat beside me. “You made it.”

  “Told you I would.” Hi
s breath warms the top of my head as he presses his lips there. “You okay? How long have you been here?”

  “Long enough to feel crazy outnumbered.” I lift my head and look at him. “I’m nervous.”

  “I know.”

  “Are you?”

  Luke cocks his brow. “No, but what have I been saying to you about this?”

  I pick a spot on the carpet and glare at it, my shoulders dropping. “That it doesn’t matter what happens or what news we get—you’re good.”

  “We’re good,” he corrects me.

  “Right.”

  “Hey.” Luke guides my head to turn, moving his thumb over my cheek. “Ask me.”

  I close my eyes and lean into his hand.

  I don’t need to ask him anything.

  Just saying those words has always been Luke’s way of telling me he loves me, but lately, for the past year, specifically, it’s become so much more. It means we’ll always be okay, no matter what. It’s a promise—nothing could ever break us, not even this. He doesn’t need me to ask him anything just like I don’t need to hear the words. But I do need to say them. Right now, I do.

  “I love you,” I whisper, eyes opening and staring into his. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

  Luke leans over and presses his lips against mine, kissing me softly. Sweetly. “Want a distraction?”

  I pull back, intrigued.

  He wouldn’t fuck me here, would he? Could we?

  Fuck yes, I want a distraction. That bathroom out in the hallway would be the perfect venue for it too.

  I quickly glance at the clock above the reception desk and scowl at the time. My appointment officially started two minutes ago.

  “My fucking luck,” I grumble. “You couldn’t get here twenty minutes ago and ask me that?”

  “If I didn’t have to deal with constant fuckin’ bullshit, I would’ve been here. You can blame your brother.” Luke slouches in his chair, his long legs kicking out and stretching.

  “Why? What happened?”

  He shakes his head.

  “Luke.”

  “It’s dumb.”

  “Oh, my God, tell me right now.” I turn in my seat and scoot closer, nearly crawling over the armrest I’m so eager for this information. A giggle erupts out of my mouth when he sighs, dropping his head against the seat. “Spill it. Don’t make me call Ben. You know I will.”

  Luke’s head rolls to the side, his eyes narrowing.

  “This is going to be so good, I can tell.” I prop my chin on my fist and beam at him. “Okay. I’m ready.”

  He chuckles, then shifts his gaze to the ceiling and rubs his hands down his face, an exhausted breath leaving him.

  “We got a call about some cows in the middle of Route 4. Traffic was backed up close to a mile. Someone had to deal with it. I said to put that shit on anyone else. Ben decided we needed to handle it. That’s where I’ve been all fuckin’ morning.”

  I pull my lips between my teeth and wait. I know there’s more to this story.

  “You ever try to get cows to move when they don’t feel like fuckin’ moving? It’s impossible. I felt like an asshole. I’m pushing against these things, worryin’ I’m gonna tip one over and then what the fuck would I do if that happened? So then I try calling them like I would a dog or something. I’m whistlin’, clapping my hands, waving my arms. I’m sure everyone watching was getting a real good fuckin’ show. It took us three hours to get that road cleared.” Pinching his eyes shut, Luke shakes his head. “Fuck Ben. Next time, he’s on his own.”

  It takes everything, everything inside of me not to fall to the floor in a fit of laughter right now, because I can picture this shit show Luke just described.

  But I manage, keeping my chuckles subdued as I run my hand across his solid chest.

  “I bet everyone watching did get a real good fuckin’ show,” I repeat his words, my voice dropping softer and quiet for only him to hear. His eyes open and find mine. “You’re so sexy, Luke. Especially wearing this, you could be juggling dildos and everyone would cream their pants. I’m not even kidding.”

  “That’s weird, babe.”

  “Well, it’s true.” I shrug and pluck at the buttons on his shirt. “And didn’t you know, when you signed up to be a cop, you’re protecting and serving all of us, farm animals included.” I give him a smile. “If there’s video of this, I want to see it.”

  “No fuckin’ way.”

  “Fine, but if you ever get the opportunity to juggle dildos with an audience, at least give me that, Luke.”

  He stares at me, fighting a smirk, I can tell. “Love you, babe.”

  “I know.” I smile bigger.

  The same nurse from before steps out into the waiting room again.

  “Tessa Evans,” she calls out after glancing at the chart she’s holding onto.

  My stomach drops to the floor. Worry settles over me like a heavy shadow I can’t crawl out from under.

  I blow out a breath and push to my feet, grateful for the hand Luke places on my lower back. It steadies me.

  He’s here. We’re good. We’ll be good.

  We move together across the room, only separating when we need to, when only one of us can fit through the doorway at a time, and then Luke is back at my side, staying close to me.

  “Right in here.” The nurse directs us to Dr. London’s office. I’ve been in here a lot the past year. “Have a seat. Dr. London will be in shortly.”

  “Thank you,” I say, returning her polite smile. I plop into the chair closest to the window and gaze outside. My eyes squint in the sun. “It’s so hot out today.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I feel like we didn’t really get a Spring. I wanted a Spring.” My leg starts bouncing again. I chew on the side of my thumbnail as anxiety wraps its hand around my hopeless heart. I panic and brace for the worst possible news we can hear, because I feel like I should be ready for it. I have to be ready.

  Luke’s hand slides underneath my hair, massaging my neck with gentle pressure.

  “That feels good,” I murmur, eyes closing and head tipping forward. I give my poor thumbnail a break and rest my hands on my thighs, no longer bouncing.

  God, he settles me so easily. Too bad it can’t happen more often.

  “I wish you could do this all the time.”

  “Rub your neck?”

  “Mm. Any sort of touching works.”

  “My hands are on you constantly, Tessa. When do I not touch you?”

  “When you’re working.”

  I hear Luke shifting in his chair next to me, but his fingers keep pressing, keep sliding fluidly over my skin, I can’t look in his direction or even open my eyes yet. I feel careless and cared for.

  “Yeah, just letting you know—I quit, motherfucker,” Luke says, no humor to his voice at all.

  I look over at him and laugh the second I see the phone pressed to his ear. “Oh, my God.”

  “Your sister just offered me a way better deal than putting up with your dumbass. I’m takin’ it.” He smiles at me, then speaks into the phone, “No, we’re still waiting. Yeah . . . Yeah, I’ll tell her. All right, later.” He disconnects the call and tucks the phone into his pants pocket. “Your brother said he hopes this goes well.”

  “Me too,” I whisper.

  I lean onto my hip when the hand on my neck guides me closer.

  Luke and I share a kiss, one that starts soft but quickly grows hungry the second our tongues meet.

  I moan against his mouth, a little louder when he sucks on my lip, and practically climb into his lap when he starts making low, desperate noises of his own.

  “Oh, well, I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” Dr. London steps inside the office, closing the door behind her and moving around her desk as Luke and I separate like two teenagers who just got caught fooling around in my childhood bedroom. “Although, I am very much an advocate for that,” she adds, smiling while she takes a seat. “A spontaneous sex life never hurts wh
en you’re in the business of making babies.”

  “We should be set then. We fuck like rabbits.”

  Luke cuts me a hard look. He doesn’t seem the least bit shocked at my admission. “You finished sharin’ our business?”

  “Never,” I tease.

  Dr. London chuckles softly. She’s a middle-aged woman with light blonde hair she always keeps pinned up in a bun. She’s kind and honest. I liked her the second I met her. “And how are you doing, both of you?”

  “All right,” Luke answers as I limply offer her a shrug.

  “Anxious for the results, I’m sure. Let’s get to it then.”

  She shuffles some papers on her desk, setting a stack aside to clear the space in front of her. When she drops a thick, blue manilla folder on the desk and begins flipping through the pages, I reach for Luke.

  He threads his fingers through mine and allows me to pull his hand into my lap, where I grip onto it with my other.

  “Mr. Evans, the semen analysis came back, and everything looks great there. Spectacular, actually.” She lifts her head and smiles at him. “Sperm count and mobility are both well above average.”

  The urge to roll my eyes is overwhelming.

  “Shocker,” I mumble, gaining attention.

  “What’s that?” Dr. London asks.

  “Come on. Look at him.” I tip my head at Luke. “Was there really ever any doubt here? Of course, his sperm is flawless. He’s a ten on a bad day and he doesn’t have those. I’m sure other sperm want to be his sperm.”

  “Jesus,” Luke grumbles under his breath. He rubs at his mouth with his free hand, his long fingers scratching over the stubble covering his jaw. “You say the weirdest shit sometimes.”

  “I’m just stating the obvious—nobody should be surprised about your results. I’m not.”

  Dr. London laughs softly. “I can assure you, Tessa, even attractive men have issues in this department.”

  “It’s not him. I know it isn’t.”

  The panic in my voice, the distress, it doesn’t go unnoticed.

  Luke’s fingertips press into the back of my hand while the eyes staring back at me soften with sympathy and understanding.