Page 111 of Surprise Mother Pucker

“C—” I started to speak, but he smiled, a look that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Come on, princess, it's not like we have anything to hide.”

Cassandra’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you said your pack wasn’t here,” she accused.

“The other three members of our pack are currently either at hockey practice or in class. I was sleeping in while Charlotte and Kennedy were having breakfast.” He kept his voice level. “I assure you, the rest of my pack mates will be home momentarily.”

Had he already texted the guys? I silently thanked my lucky stars that he had heard me, because I had been seconds away from slamming the door in her smug face.

“I need to go grab Charlotte,” I mumbled, hurrying off to the kitchen, where she was still chomping on her pancakes.

All I could see as I walked through the apartment were the dirty dishes in the sink from the night before, the T-shirts that we had left strewn over the back of the sofa. The house wasn’t filthy, by any means, but it wasn't immaculate, either.

“So, this is your permanent residence?” Cassandra asked as she followed me to the kitchen.

“Yes. We decided as a pack it was best that I stay here toward the end of my pregnancy so my alphas can support me after I give birth.”

“Do you rely heavily on their help?” she asked.

Charlie, who was standing behind her, looked livid. “She doesn’t. In fact, before us, Kennedy did everything on her own. She's a fantastic mother, and the suggestion that she isn't is, frankly, offensive.”

“And what is your name? I need it for my files.”

“Charlie Levinson,” he supplied.

“There is no record of Kennedy having an official pack. Care to explain that?” she asked, looking between us.

“Kennedy is pregnant. We live together as a family, and there was no need to rush an official bond. We plan to bond in our own time once the babies are a bit older. Surely, I don't have to explain to you that bonding close to pregnancy isn't the safest.”

“No, I suppose not, but usually omegas opt to bond before having babies.”

“Well, we didn’t,” I said. Her attitude was angering me further by the second. Picking Charlotte up, I grabbed a cloth and started wiping her mucky hands.

“Fine, well, I need to see all the bedrooms and kitchen, check that you have running water and plenty of food for the child. Also, you will need to submit to a drug test. I have the kit in my vehicle to test you.”

“No.” Charlie shook his head. “Kennedy will happily submit to a drug test, but it will be at a licensed facility. Nowhere else.”

“That would mean more work for us,” she pointed out.

“I don’t care. It’s worth it to ensure Kennedy is treated fairly. Follow me, I’ll give you the tour,” Charlie said. “Kennedy can finish feeding Charlotte her breakfast.” He nodded at me before leading Cassandra away.

The moment she was out of the room, I took a deep breath. My phone was in the nest, so I couldn't even grab it and text the guys. The idea that that woman would be in my nest, and Charlotte’s nursery, felt like a gross violation.

I focused on cleaning up Charlotte, getting all the bits of pancake out of her hair. Of all the days for her to eat like a mess monster, she had to pick today.

Doing my best to temper my breathing, I focused on cleaning up breakfast, trying to get all the dishes in the dishwasher before she came back.

“The bedroom is adequate,” Cassandra said as she strode into the kitchen, hardly giving me a second glance. Without bothering to ask, she opened the fridge and started rummaging through it.

“A lot of take-out containers,” she commented.

“Yes, well, four adult alphas live here, so we do tend to have takeout every now and again. If you check the cabinet to your right, you'll find all of Charlotte's formula there, and the bottom drawer of the fridge contains all the fresh produce. She’s a big fan of mashed banana, at the moment.”

She righted herself, turning her gaze to me. “Can I take a look at the baby?” Cassandra asked, holding out her arms expectantly.

“No,” I growled.

Her fake smile dropped, and she glowered at me. “Now, Miss Brow?—”

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