Page 41 of Wrong Number, Right Cougar

“What if I don’t want them anymore?” He stood up and hugged me the best he could with his belly in the way. “That happens.”

“Then we’ll go someplace that does have what you do want.”

“Why am I like this?”

I placed my hand on his expanding middle. “Because you are having our baby.”

“I know, and hormones, and blah blah blah, but logically it doesn’t make sense. I’m so upset, and I know I’m not supposed to be upset, but I can’t stop it.”

I stepped to the side so I could hug him more closely, knowing that in five minutes, he’d be happy as could be—as if it was his birthday. “That’s just how pregnancy is. Let’s go wash your face and go for a ride, okay?”

He agreed, and sure enough, when he came out of the bathroom, he was right as rain again.

Pregnancy was wild. He would go from sad about a seemingly small thing to wanting to dance to horny to bored, and that was all before lunch. And the cravings… they were just as wild. More than once I was in the kitchen at three am making a random food he woke up wanting. I never minded, even when some of the creations sounded odd. We’d actually discovered a few favorite new recipes during this pregnancy.

“I’m sorry about that. We can get back to work.” He reached up and cupped my cheek. “Thank you for being you and taking care of me.”

“I will always take care of you, and nope, we’re not going back to work. I called Frank while you were freshening up and he’s gonna come watch the desk. We are out of here.”

Frank had rented out a cabin for the entire month. He and Peter and Paul had become quite the regulars around here. Sometimes they came together, and others, like this time, it was only one of them.

Frank was sure this place was magical and that he too would find his mate. I hoped that was the case. His work was fully remote, and he enjoyed spending time with other shifters and getting away from the city. Not that he didn’t go back pretty much every weekend to go clubbing. He was an interesting guy.

We climbed into the dad mobile I’d picked up for us and headed toward the closest town that had real options—big box stores, chain restaurants, that kind of thing. It was hardly a city, but compared to our town, it was substantial.

“I miss the truck,” Thorn said.

“It’s not gone. It’s just...” I wished I could take it back. We’d swapped to the car when my mate could no longer navigate the truck.

“I just can’t get in it.” That.

“Yeah. It’s temporary.” I rested my hand on his knee and opted to change the topic. “We’re almost at our exit. Do you have any ideas for what you want to do when we get there?”

He was quiet for a few seconds. “Yes. Popcorn. With lots and lots of fake butter on it.”

“And where would we get that?” It sounded horrible, but it was for my mate, and if he asked for chocolate ice cream with mustard on it, I was going to find it.

“The movie theater.” He said it as if it were a no-brainer.

“Okay. So we’re going to the movies.” I couldn’t imagine the seats would be comfortable for him, but we could always leave early.

“Would it be weird if we didn’t see a movie? I just want the popcorn.”

And that’s how, a half-hour later, we ended up in the parking lot of the movie theater with a huge bucket of artificially flavored popcorn. He popped piece after piece into his mouth and talked about how it was the most amazing food on the planet and that it should probably be its own food group.

This was the first time since we’d gotten together that he even mentioned it, but the way he was writing poetry about it right now, you’d think it was something he indulged in every day.

“That was better than brownies.” He set the empty bucket on the floor, now filled with napkins he’d used on his grease-soaked fingers. “Thank you. I needed that.”

“Any time.” I started to pull away.

“Where are we going? Home?” he asked.

“Nope. This time I get to pick.” I had found a store on the other side of town that sold paternity clothes, and my mate was in need. He could only get away with wearing my clothes for so long—and as much as my cougar loved him in my clothes, there was a time and a place for everything. Right now, he needed ones that fit him and didn’t squeeze. I had a feeling that would go a long way toward making him more comfortable.

When we pulled in, he recognized it immediately—being the largest chain of paternity clothes there was.

“I don’t need them. I have your clothes.”

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