Page 22 of Daddy's Mail Order Mate

“Is he going to be a problem?”

That makes me laugh.

“Not for you.”

Thorn makes a low sound, somewhere between a laugh and a growl. I’m even more grateful that he can’t see my face right now.

“... So,” I say with as much calm as I can muster, “You going to keep me trapped at the window, or are you going to go make dinner?”

He hastens back a few steps. But I still don’t turn, and instead lean down to try and get some of the cool evening air on my cheeks by crossing my arms on the windowsill.

“... Yeah. Dinner,” Thorn answers a bit thickly.

It takes another moment for him to actually leave.

Only when the door shuts after him do I finally let out the big shaking breath I’d been holding back and clutch at my chest.

This might not have been a smart idea after all, if I’m going to be this conflicted around him. He’d rejected me and our mate bond all those years ago, and I have no reason to believe that would ever change. So all these reawakened feelings would do is put me in harm’s way.

But I…

I can’t help but want to stay. Just for two weeks. I can figure out my next move, and maybe finally get some closure.

***

Day two’s been going… Surprisingly well.

It took me ages to get to sleep, and I’d woken up rather abruptly to the sound of the baby at four in the morning. Never did I think I’d be wandering downstairs to find Thorn quietly pacing through the kitchen bottle-feeding a baby, but life really seems determined to throw me constant curveballs these days.

And then after some passing practical conversation and a very early breakfast, we’ve both just been minding our own business for the most part. I still tend to fall on a sliding scale of discomfort to agony around him thanks to the rejected bond, but the lingering looks and strange longing that comes over me somehow manages to counterbalance it enough that I don’t mind sharing the same room as him.

He really does seem to be a dedicated father. His whole day seems to be consumed with tending to his baby and fitting in whatever he can for work and taking care of the house between.

So that’s how I find myself doing the baby’s laundry at three in the afternoon. Thorn had initially made a bit of a fuss about me actually doing chores. I managed to shut that down by reminding him that when this whole arrangement was being made, we agreed that I’d be helping out with childcare and domestic upkeep as part of the terms. And I’m a woman of my word.

I shove the onesies into the dryer a bit too firmly.

“Unlike some people,” I grouse into the lint catcher.

I’m broken out of my spiteful reverie by the abrupt chime of the doorbell.

It better not be Lucas. But knowing him, he’d be practically knocking it off its hinges to get to punchsomethingwhile he’s here.

I make my way towards the front just in time to see Thorn’s back and the door swinging open.

“Hiiiii!”

Past his frame I see traces of a woman who has to be a grown-up Paige and a man who I can only assume was her mate.

“Shit,” Thorn blurts out.

“Language! You’re holding your little one! His poor delicate ears—”

“If you’re worried about his delicate ears, you shouldn’t shout,” the Portsmill Alpha laughs out. Which earns him a sharp elbow to the ribs, but he just laughs more.

“Rude. Now, where’s your lovely lady? I can’t wait to meet her!”

“I-...”

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