Page 33 of An Unexpected Claim

Nathan and I had a fuck of a lot of lust, but the emotional connection was missing. So his commitment to protecting my cub baffled me. A trickle of guilt spread through my veins as I thought about my secret. But if he was this possessive and aggressive with us now, it would be ten times worse if—okay,when, because I wasn’t a total bitch—he knew the baby was his. Just the thought of it made me feel claustrophobic and long for a run.

After reliving my experience over and over, I’d been emotionally spent and physically exhausted. A small piece of paper on the expertly crafted, wooden coffee table caught my eye. I picked it up and squinted at the scrawled note, trying to decipher the handwriting. Nathan had a strong hand and clearly wrote with purpose, but he also wrote like a doctor. However, after a minute, I picked up some specific letters and finally made out what it said. I felt a little like I’d just learned a new language and that thought made me chuckle. Apparently, he would be working until who knew when, but I should help myself to anything. I wondered if that included snooping through the whole house…

After reading through the notes again, I realized he’d mentioned dinner. My brow rose as I glanced at the clock again. Had he been at work all night? I wondered if they’d made some progress on the search for my attacker. My first instinct was to call him, until I remembered I didn’t have my cell phone. My eyes drifted to the phone on the kitchen wall—something I hadn’t seen since I was a kid—but it wouldn’t do me any good since I didn’t have his number. Or anyone else’s…my eidetic memory wasn’t any good when people put their numbers in my phone, and I never looked at them.

Left to my own devices, I went about making myself some breakfast. As he’d said in the message, the kitchen was well stocked. I looked longingly at the bacon in the refrigerator as I gathered all of the items to make eggs and toast. My morning sickness had been manageable, but I’d learned very fast that bacon would be off the diet until after I had my cub. It didn’t taste nearly as delicious coming up.

Once I was done cooking, I sat at the island and ate my eggs, then munched on the until I’d eaten every crumb, before making myself a couple more slices. With a pleasantly full stomach, I cleaned up my mess and stowed the dishes in the dishwasher.

I had a little more energy after eating, and I knew I should do a little PT if I wanted to get back into shape, so I wandered out to the back porch to do yoga. After thirty minutes, I was laboring, my body protesting all the exercise with a vengeance.

The only time I’d ever been close to this weak was after I’d broken my leg skiing in the Alps. The fracture had taken a couple days to heal, even in cat form. My leg had bugged me for a few months, which shortened my runs and drove me crazy until I was back at one hundred percent.

This situation was so much worse, mixing my injuries, the baby, and the stress of hiding from a serial killer.

Stop whining and move your ass, Peyton.

Growling at myself—a glowing example of my mental stability, I’m sure—I forced myself to do another thirty minutes. Then I collapsed on the ground and tried to wish my body back to bed.Why couldn’t I have been born a genie? Although there is an argument as to whether I would be able to grant my own wishes…

“Oh dear, Peyton. Are you alright?”

I dragged my eyelids open to see Beth standing over me, her brow puckered and her eyes swimming with concern.

“Never better,” I panted.

She looked at me dubiously as she held out her hand. I grabbed onto it and blew out a breath as I used her as leverage to stand up.

“Just doing a little PT,” I explained. “I need to rebuild my strength. I’m not used to being idle, and I can’t hide in the house and rest until I’m permitted to do otherwise.” The words were out before I thought about the fact that I was talking about her son, and she might be offended.

Beth nodded. “I’ve never been one to sit around and do as I’m told either.” Her expression was deadpan, and I blinked a couple of times while I tried to decipher if I’d heard her right.

Her eyes creased at the corners, and the blue orbs twinkled before a laugh slipped from between her lips. “Oh, honey. I know exactly how bossy my son is. He learned it from his papa. Sometimes, they are two jackasses in a pen.”

By the time she’d finished, I’d already fallen into a deck check while I laughed hysterically. I really did love this woman. If Nathan didn’t know how lucky he was to have her for a mother, I’d have to make sure I knocked it into his head before I left.

“I believe you.” Shaking my head with a smile, I stood up. “Honestly, I needed the rest, but don’t tell Nathan.”

Beth chuckled and slipped an arm through one of mine. “My lips are sealed. I came to see how you were doing. Obviously, I arrived just in time.”

“I’m just irritable,” I admitted. “I really am fine.”

“Nonetheless, I have a mothering complex,” she teased with a wink, making me smile in return. “I have to take care of people when they are sick. It’s a compulsion. And since that happens so rarely around shifters, I have to take advantage.”

She led me into the kitchen and set some bags I hadn’t noticed she’d been holding in her other hand on the counter. Then she gave me a little push toward the hallway. “Go take a long, hot shower, and when you come back, I’ll show you what I mean. And don’t hurry back.”

I smiled and followed her instructions like an obedient kid…wow, she really does know how to “mother,” I thought with a silent laugh.

After loosening my muscles in the shower, I felt my fatigue approached again. But it wasn’t the unpleasant, overpowering exhaustion I’d been plagued with the last could of days.

I put my hair up in a messy knot and put on a pair of sweats before returning to the kitchen. Beth smiled as I walked in and pointed a spatula at the tall chairs in front of the island. “Have a seat, honey. I made you chicken noodle soup and homemade French bread. The soup is ready, but the bread is in the oven.”

“Homemade?” My stomach rumbled at the smell wafting from through the kitchen. “I practically grew up in France, and yet, I never learned to make bread,” I lamented with a chuckle.

“You grew up in France?” Beth queried as she ladled soup into a bowl and set it in front of me.

I wanted to kick myself. Why had I told her that? Does she have some kind of mom voodoo thing that makes people tell her things? I had no real experience with mothers, just the ones I’d met as acquaintances. And Linette, but she hadn’t had the baby yet, so I’d never really seen her as a mother.

“Um, sort of. I went to boarding school there.”

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