Page 39 of Wrong Number, Right Cougar

“Nervous?” Wilder stared at the road ahead.

“How’d you guess?” I was looking at the passing scenery and wondering if I needed to pee.

“Your knee’s jiggling.”

Once again I was questioning inviting Dad here rather than us going to see him. In my childhood home, there would be only one shifter: Wilder. But the newly renovated lodge, partly owned by a shifter, had attracted not only cougars but other shifters from across the country.

I worried we’d be shepherding Dad from one potential disaster to another and we wouldn’t enjoy his company. It’d be one more stressful incident to endure.

Wilder wasn’t concerned, saying shifters had lived amongst humans for centuries and there were only a few mishaps.

I cradled my belly as the baby kicked, reassuring me our little one was well.

The airport was small, nothing like the big city ones, and we wandered inside as the plane taxied along the runway. I clasped my damp palm in my mate’s as people disembarked.

But as Dad appeared, my worries faded. This was the man who’d held our small family together after Father died. I fell into his open arms, and we didn’t move, hugging one another but not saying anything. Wilder was my home but this man was too.

“I’ve missed you, my darling.” He pulled away. “And look at you. You’re blossoming.”

I didn’t disagree, but floundering was a more appropriate word, with my belly keeping me off balance.

“Dad, this is Wilder.”

My mate held out his hand, but Dad enveloped him in a hug.

First hurdle was over. My dad and my mate had met and were chatting about Cougar Lake as we strolled to the car. I had Dad sit in front so Wilder could point out places of interest while I stretched out in the back seat.

We’d been on the road for ten minutes when I had to pee. Shoot, I should have used the airport bathroom. Now I had to do it by the side of the road.

Dad laughed, saying when he was pregnant with me, he always had to pee at the most inopportune moments.

“This is stunning.” Dad pulled out his phone and snapped pics as we drove into Cougar Lake. “I can see why Brett chose to live here. He always did like the outdoors.”

Despite eating everything in my goodie bag, I was hungry, and we stopped for lunch at the diner. The staff and customers made a fuss of Dad, and he whispered that everyone knew our business.

“That’s living in a small town for you.” It’d taken me a while to get used to it, but not only did it not bother me, but I also enjoyed that the community cared enough to stick their nose in.

“Wow. That view.” Dad was standing beside the car as Wilder got the suitcase out. “I read there are very few cougars on the mountain now.”

“Yes, but the population is growing.” My mate gave me a look as he referred to our little one possibly being a cougar. Visits from my dad would be more awkward once our child was old enough to talk, especially about cougars and Wilder being one.

I opened the cabin door, giving the place a quick once-over before ushering Dad inside. He had seen the before-and-after pics I’d sent, but he was wowed by what we’d achieved, wandering around, studying the photos on all four walls and the cougar mementos.

“And none of this was part of your plan.” He removed one pic and held it so the light was on it.

“Not the old one, but the new one, yes.” I’d always been so steadfast in keeping to my life’s plan, but since driving into Cougar Lake, meeting my mate, and becoming pregnant, the plan changed each day.

“What you have done here is amazing. Congratulations, my darling.”

We left Dad to unpack and shower while I took a nap and Wilder checked in with the staff. Guests were milling around at the entrance, waiting for a guided hike. This was Wilder’s job, but he’d hired a cougar shifter to take over for the next couple of months.

In the late afternoon, I strolled along a lakeside path with Dad, just him and me. While I had summarized why Uncle had cut himself off from the family, his desire to help the cougars here at Cougar Lake, we hadn’t discussed it in detail.

“I feel bad for distancing myself from Brett all those years. Not that I knew where he was.” Dad paused and glanced at the lake, the surface smooth and unruffled.

“Mmmm. But I believe he was happy, Dad. And that’s all we can ask for in life.” He’d done a good deed, the repercussions of which endured for most of his life. But by ensuring his beloved lodge thrived, we were honoring his memory.

“I suppose so.” He took my hand and squeezed.

---