~

 

“Sit down, you should sit down,” Roland said, yanking the stack of books of the straight back kitchen chair and dumping them on the table as he tossed an expectant look at Maggie.

“I don’t need to sit…”

“Not there — you’re right, a comfy chair.” Roland growled at himself for not thinking of her comfort in the first place.

He dashed toward the sofa and motioned for her to sit. It sort of reminded Maggie of those puppy training classes that she’d seen on the internet.

“I’m…”

“Hungry? Pickles!”

“Vomit bucket,” Maggie huffed.

“You going to be sick?” Roland snatched up the bowl from the coffee table that still had a few unpopped kernels in the bottom and thrust it out toward her.

“Roland, I’m not going to be sick — unless you make me eat pickles,” Maggie chuckled.

“It must be a worry,” Roland said, hugging the bowl to his chest as if it was his new best friend.

“What must?” Maggie was lost. The man had been running around like a headless chicken ever since she had got back to the cabin.

“You know…?” He seemed to stall over the next words, and Maggie craned her head on her neck toward him and raised her eyebrows in expectation, but he didn’t say anything.

“I do?”

“Well — sure,” Roland looked a little lost.

“I have no idea what you’re…”

“Thirsty?” Roland demanded, and for one moment she thought he was going to slap himself on the forehead as he dashed off to the kitchen.

The sound of the refrigerator door opening and closing again made her smile. A moment later; he was back in front of her once more, holding out a bottle of juice, and giving her another expectant look. Maggie gave up and took it.

“You should lay…” Roland said, growling at himself for not thinking of that sooner, perhaps sitting was … uncomfortable for her.

“Roland, I only just got pregnant, it’s like a dot on a pinhead…”

“True, but … maybe it’s still tiring for you,” Roland offered back.

“Seriously?” Maggie chuckled. “If it wasn’t for Mitzi’s sense of smell then I wouldn’t even know about it for a good few weeks.”

“Again, true, but…”

“Please tell me you’re not going to be like this for the next nine months,” Maggie chuckled.

“Nine months.” Roland’s eyebrows tried to meet in the gap over his nose. “Such a long time.”

“Well, if you don’t have a meltdown in the meantime it should be fine,” Maggie grinned.

“I’m…” he bit down on his words and pulled his head back on his neck.

“Fine?” She teased.

“Okay, just a little freaked out, but good – it’s good, better than good – it’s…”

“Fine.”

“I’m going to be a father,” he said, sticking his chest out with pride like a puffed up peacock.

“As long as I don’t kill you first.” She chuckled, handing the juice back to him, and shaking her head as she walked away.

“I’m going to be the best damn shifter dad on the planet,” he muttered with a grin that stretched from ear to ear. “Hey,” he said, growling at the juice in his hand. “You need fluids.”

“Why, do I look like a prune?” she called back.

“Not yet, but you could,” Roland said, following her.

“There’s a comforting thought.” 

 

~

~

~

 

Bowie couldn’t help the fact that he kept sneaking out a look from under his lashes at Mitzi every time she busied herself doing something. Right now she was making coffee, and he could almost imagine himself her mate. Almost imagine that this was an everyday occurrence.

Then his brain kicked in and slammed him back into the reality of the moment. He wasn’t her damn mate and could never be.

Life was cruel — fate was a bitch — and he couldn’t claim Mitzi because he was a crazy ass bear. He told himself it was that simple and to get on with the job at hand and leave.

He had things to do. Things for Rayner. She needed to find Colt, and he needed to kill him.

Bowie grumbled to himself as he remembered that wasn’t the plan. He couldn’t kill the man because he needed Colt to kill him, and Rayner needed the money to pay off his debt to Bute.

That was the simple part. He needed to pick a fight and then will his bear to back off.

“Here,” Mitzi said as she pushed his cup of coffee down the countertop toward him.

Did she think he was a normal man?

Did she really think that they could have coffee together like real people do?

The way that she looked at him was sinful. He had to know on some level that she knew what he was to her, what she was to him, but he just chose to ignore it.

Mine…

If he didn’t see it then it wasn’t there. It was a childlike simplicity, but it worked for him. It was a shame that it didn’t work for his stupid beast.

His bear was clawing within him to do something about the female. A claim. Even the chance of a claim in future might have settled his beast just a little, but Bowie couldn’t do it.

He wanted her — of course he did. She was his, made for him, just as he was made her.

That knowledge made his beast claw within him even more, and when a low rumble of a growl echoed through his chest, he flicked his eyes to Mitzi and saw her prickle.

Mine…

“I’m nearly done,” Bowie bit out.

He sounded angry, he didn’t want to sound angry to her ears — he wasn’t mad at her — he was mad himself, mad at fate, and mad at life in general.

“So, when are you going to say something?” Mitzi asked. It sounded like a simple question, but to his ears it was a loaded one.

“I’m busy today — have to help Rayner…” He started to deflect, but she was about to let him get away with that.

He’d been prowling around the cabin for days. She’d let him have his time to stew on it, but now it was time to face up to the fact that they were mates.

She guessed that she knew what his problem was — her brother was the same — both men were brawling bears, both of them had a need to fight, and Tank didn’t believe that he was worthy of a mate.

It was that or believe the worst of him, of herself, that he just didn’t want her in his life.

“That’s good. That you help Rayner is good, but we both know what I’m talking about, Bowie.”

Mitzi wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easily. She needed to hear it. She need for him to say that he’d rather go totally bat-shit crazy than be mated to her.

“Don’t push this,” Bowie warned her.

His eyes said that he was looking for a way out, not just from the uncomfortable conversation, not just of being mates, but of getting the hell out of there and fast.

Mine…