Page 40 of Wrong Number, Right Cougar

“But on another topic, we need your help while you’re here.” The nursery was an empty space, and while we were getting the crib, changing table, and rocking chair made by a friend of Wilder’s, the room needed decorating. I could sit and oversee the work, but my mate would do the painting.

“I can paint.” Dad had redone our rooms some years after Father died. Initially he refused to change anything, saying the house had to remain as it was when his husband was alive.

But I was ten and living in a little kid’s room, and he gradually understood that changing the paint color and redecorating was something Father would have agreed with. We couldn’t live in the past, but we’d always keep the memories safe.

Dad and I sat on the couch choosing paint samples, and my mate went to the store and purchased the tiny tins. He slapped each color on the wall, and we went back and forth on which would be more soothing for a baby and which one might transition from a baby and toddler’s room to a young child’s.

We decided on a forest green for one wall and light gray for the others. Dad and Wilder got to work while I nibbled crackers and candy and issued instructions.

It was dark when they finished, and I’d thrown open the windows before they started painting. A fierce growl rumbled from the woods, and we froze. Me because I was worried a cougar shifter would appear and shift, unaware my dad was here. Or that Wilder’s beast would respond by taking his fur and leaping outside.

Instead of cowering, Dad leaned out the window. “Is that a cougar?”

“Yes.” Wilder peered outside. If the cougar was close by, he might identify who it was by the shifter’s scent.

“I’m so glad. Cougar Lake would just be The Lake if there were no cougars.”

We were too tired to cook, Dad and Wilder because they’d been painting and me because I was carrying our little one. We went to the diner, and Noah was there. He joined us for dinner, and he and my dad got along really well, talking about their common hobby which was stamp collecting.

So well that Dad insisted on walking to the diner each morning for the remainder of his stay. And Dad frequently peppered his conversation with Noah’s name.

“Noah’s been single for years, and I’ve never seen him engage with anyone as he does with your dad,” Wilder observed.

It took some getting used to. Dad had never had any man in his life after Father died. Or none that I was aware of. But he deserved happiness and so did my lawyer.

At the end of his vacation, Dad and Noah made plans to see one another in two weeks when Noah flew to the city on business. And he was going to be staying with my dad.

“Do you think they’ll have sex?” I whispered to my mate as we waved off Dad at the airport.

“That would be my guess.” He grinned. “Please tell me you don’t have a problem with that?”

“It’s just weird.” Noah was human, but after living in Cougar Lake for decades, was aware of shifters because his late mate was a shifter.

Now I understood the uncertainties parents experienced when their kids grew up and started having sex. Thinking of my dad romping in the bed with my lawyer was too much. Wilder laughed, saying it would prepare me for when our child grew up.

“Never! I won’t allow it.”

“I don’t think you have a choice.” He snorted with laughter.

22

WILDER

“What’s wrong?” I stepped into the kitchen and was surprised to see my mate sitting in a chair at the counter, staring into the cabinet and crying. He’d had major emotional swings since entering his third trimester, and it hurt my heart every time he was upset like this, even though I knew it would be over fairly quickly.

I rushed to his side and squatted down so I was eye level with him.“Sweetie, what’s wrong?”

“We don’t have eggs.” There had to be more than that since he was looking in the cabinet and not the refrigerator.

“Okay… I didn’t know we were out. I’ll go buy some.” It was a much easier fix than when he was sad because the flower in the front bed had wilted.

“But we don’t have cocoa.” And that explained the cabinet.

“Do you want to make a list? I can run to the store?—”

“No, because by the time you go to the store, I won’t want brownies anymore.” His pregnancy hormones were all over the place. The midwife said it was normal. That didn’t mean I had to like it. My mate deserved a life of happiness and joy, not random bouts of being miserable.

“How about we go out and find some brownies?”

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