Page 53 of Heat Clinic

“Of course,” I say. Relief washes over me, and I realize how tense I felt. How important this is to me now that I’ve acknowledged it.Children, he said. Not just one baby, but possibly more.They want me and my babies.“And it wouldn’t be something that has to happen right away.” In fact, it probably shouldn’t. “We still have a lot to get to know about one another.”

“And a lifetime together to learn it,” Tom says.

“Well said,” Marcus says. He brings their combined hand to his mouth and kisses Tom’s knuckles, and warmth pools in my belly at this brief moment of open tenderness.

The waiter comes and pulls out a tray stand, setting his loaded tray on top of it. He goes around our table, taking our topmost stacks of plates away and putting our meals down. We eat and make easier conversation, and I devour every bite of my pumpkin ravioli.

Everything is pleasant until it’s not. I’ve eaten too much, too fast, and my stomach churns. I take slow, measured breaths as I fight off the nausea and realize I’m losing the battle, so I ball my napkin up and set it on the table and stand, interrupting their side conversation. “Excuse me.”

The bathrooms were by the coat check, I think. I weave around milling waiters and patrons as I try to make it before I lose it all over the lobby floor, embarrassing myself in such a nice restaurant and mortifying myself in front of Marcus and Tom.There!I shove the door open and push into a stall, my knees hitting the cold tile with a smack as I lean over the toilet and gag. Nothing comes up, but my stomach bounces inside of me like a beach ball as I dry heave and saliva pools in my mouth.

“Sir, that’s the ladies’ room!” a woman shouts.

Sam barges in, not caring one bit. He finds me hunched over and heaving. He bends over me and gathers up my hair in a fist as he hovers.

When it seems like it was a false alarm and my stomach settles, I sit on the cold bathroom floor and lean back against Sam. I keep my eyes closed and wait for the nausea to pass, as it always does once my body decides it’s not going to bring everything back up after all. “I think I’ll be okay in a moment if I sit here for a bit.”

“It was probably the cream sauce,” he says.

I groan and spit my excess saliva into the toilet, and he helps me stand. The tile is slick and my heels are high, and I’m struck by the urge to lie down and nap.

“You’re still recovering. Let’s get you home so you can rest.”

I ruined this—we were having such a good time—but I can’t find it in me to argue. Sam walks me out of the bathroom, ignoring the annoyed staff as he sets me down on a bench in the entryway and gets his helmet and jacket from the coat check lady.

Marcus and Tom see us from the other end of the restaurant and come over. “Is everything all right?” Tom asks. Marcus looks stricken, as if my dry heaving is a personal mark against his alpha scorecard.

“Yes, I’m fine. I’m sorry for ruining lunch. The foodwasexcellent. I ate too much and… I’m still adjusting to solids. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m gonna take her home. I’ll call you once she’s settled in bed,” Sam says.

“What is that?” Marcus asks. He’s staring at the motorcycle helmet, his dark brows furrowed.

“My bike helmet.”

“You drove her here on a motorcycle?” Marcus says the words so calmly, but his voice gives a dark undercurrent of menace to his words that makes my spine snap straight. His scent shifts, the spiced creamy-sweet blend of his pheromones turning spicy. It’s like having to sneeze, but nothing comes out.

“Yes.”

Yes is the wrong answer. Marcus grabs Sam by the elbow and pulls him outside. The door swings shut so I can’t hear what they’re saying, but Marcus towers over him, his face furious, and Sam’s shoulders round as he takes the angry alpha's ire.

“Umm… is everything okay?” I ask, fidgeting.

Tom watches it all through the glass with his hands shoved into his pockets. He doesn’t seem alarmed. “Sam is getting dressed down for endangering you.”

“But he’s a good driver.” I have the urge to defend him because I never felt unsafe on his bike. He didn’t speed or take sharp turns or drive erratically.

“We’ve been waiting for a long time to find you, Emily. Marcus won’t do anything to risk your safety. He might be overbearing for a bit as we all adjust. It’s his nature. He’s very protective of the people he considers his.”

His.Theirs. My belly swoops, and this time it’s not nausea causing it.

“Come. Let’s get you home.” Tom holds a hand out for me and pulls me to his side. We go to the hostess stand and wait for her to get off the phone. His hand settles on the small of my back, my body feeling warm where he’s touching me. His faint scent is comforting. I lean against him, soaking it in, and more of my queasiness settles.

“Good afternoon. My partner needs a car to take her home. Thank you.”

My partner.

While she’s calling the car service, we turn and watch Marcus lecture Sam. It’s like watching someone yell at a golden retriever puppy for peeing on the carpet. Sam bends his neck and takes it.

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