Page 74 of Curvy Nanny for the Cougar
My app has taken off, with a little help from Uncle Uzzi’s tech guru friend, Horace Vanderbilt, who happens to be mated to the owner of my Pretty Girl’s favorite pizza joint.
Anyway, my email inbox is overflowing like a busted dam.
But honestly?
It’s all good. Better than. It’s perfect.
Because just beyond the walls of my office, I can hear them.
Tamare’s soft, melodic laugh. Alex’s bubbling excitement. The shuffle of duffel bags being packed, zippers being zipped, and the sound of my son—make that our son—mispronouncing "deodorant" like it’s some mythical creature.
I grin as I listen to Tamare correcting him in that patient, funny, slightly exasperated tone she uses when she’s pretending not to be wrapped around his little finger.
Our family—my family—is getting ready for our weekend trip to Keeton and Lena’s place in the Panther Mountains.
Part honeymoon.
Part Shifter development retreat.
And all heart.
Alex needs this.
His first full shift came early, and even though he handled it better than I ever imagined, there’s a storm brewing under that sweet, mischievous grin of his.
His Cougar is strong, and his instincts are starting to bubble up in ways he doesn’t always understand.
He needs space to run, to roar, to feel the dirt and pine needles under his paws.
He needs the wild.
And I need to be the one to guide him through it.
It’s my duty. My right. My joy.
And Tamare—gods bless her fierce, generous heart—didn’t hesitate when I told her what he needed.
She just nodded and asked if she should pack trail mix or beef jerky.
Like it was nothing.
Like it was everything.
I never thought I’d find a woman who could love my son like he was her own. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure I should hope for that kind of miracle.
But then came Tamare—this wild, soft, sharp-as-hell woman—humming to herself in my bedroom, helping Alex choose between a Spider-Man hoodie and his “official feral cousin” tee for our trip.
Yeah. That shirt.
Something I definitely need to have a word with Keeton about.
It’s his fault Alex calls his mountain-born kin “feral cousins” in the first place.
Not that they don’t live up to it.
The twins once taught Alex how to fish with his teeth—while swimming in the creek behind the cabin butt ass naked.
Still. Whatever. It’s fine.
