“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Mitch asked as I tried on the third pair of jeans for the night. I was at the point where my clothing fit horribly, but it felt too soon for paternity stuff. So, dammit, I was going to get into a decent pair of jeans if it took trying on every last pair I had.

“It is date night, right?” I gave up on my current pair of jeans. They fit perfectly—from the knees down.

“I said I was sorry.” Mitch bit his lip, looking completely guilt-ridden. He had no reason to be. It wasn’t as if appendicitis could be helped. “Jackie called—”

“Let me finish. As I said, tonight is date night, and just because you got called into work for a true emergency doesn’t mean we can’t still have our date. It will just look a little different.” And not very date like, but I had turned into a clingy omega since crossing into the second trimester, and Mitch being gone for the night after I was counting on spending the entire evening with him gave me the yucks. So tagging along to work it was.

“Sitting in the bar while I stand at the tap doesn’t sound like a good time to me.” He grabbed the jeans off the floor and began to fold them as I tried on another pair. He didn’t need to do that, not even close, but arguing with him over it would get us nowhere, and he wanted to help. It was his way of showing his love. I appreciated that.

“No, alpha, not the best of times.” In truth, I was probably going to be bored off my ass, but no more so than sitting at home and waiting for him to get here. Home. Our home. I loved the sound of that, even if I wasn’t completely used to it yet.

“But there are breaks.” I yanked my pants up and attempted the zipper. The attempt failed miserably so I gave the fuck up. “When you sneak out to the back room to get cups or napkins or whatever—those could be fun.” I stepped forward and reached in front of me, grabbing his junk and giving it a little squeeze to leave no room for misinterpretation.

“Great, you do realize after that promise and little grab, I’m going to spend the night walking around with a hard-on.”

Which was pretty much my goal.

“Or I could help alleviate said hard-ons.” First trimester may have brought all the stomach yuk, but the second trimester brought on the horny. I could not get enough of Mitch and his knot. Thankfully, that seemed to work quite nicely for him as well.

“Behave.” He scolded as he watched me take off yet another pair of pants. “Do you want my sweats?”

I let out an exasperated sigh. He meant well, but goodness gracious, there were so many things I wanted more than to be reminded I was too fat to wear clothing with zippers.

“I will not wear sweats to a hot date.” Or anywhere else in public. “I think I need to succumb to the paternity pants.” I hated the thought of it, but getting clothing on in time to go with Mitch trumped all vanity, so I went to his dresser, stopping dead in my tracks when I remembered the jeans I had picked up for my brother on clearance and had hidden away as a Christmas gift. My brother was two waist sizes bigger than me but had the exact same inseam. Score. “Wait.” I jogged to the closet and fished them out from the back corner where I kept gifts. “No sweats for me.” I held up my bounty. “Voila.” I slipped the jeans on and they were a bit loose around the thigh but the zipper zipped and the button buttoned.

I declared it a victory.

“Damn. You’re one sexy omega, and to think, you’re mine.” He grabbed me by the belt hoops, pulling me to him.

“All yours.” And he very much was for as long as he would have me. “Now let’s go before you’re late and we’re both naked.”

“Naked sound so much more fun.” The thought was not unpleasant.

“More fun than store room blowjobs?” I asked saucily.

“That door doesn’t lock, you know.”

Oh, I knew, and that was what put the idea in my head in the first place.

“Which will make it all the more exciting.” Damn straight it would. He had us out of the house and to the bar in record time.

I’d feared that hanging out at the bar while Mitch worked was going to be boring as mud. It so very much was not. The place was hopping, people coming in after a local football game let out, and thanks to their victory, everyone wanted to celebrate, which was fantastic for business.

I perched myself on the corner barstool. I didn’t want to take up an entire booth with so many people there, but I was selfish enough not to want to stay in the office just so I could give up my seat for a paying customer. It was date night, even if the date wound up being me watching his ass as he sauntered back and forth across the bar. I had no shame and didn’t even try to hide it when he’d catch me, instead doing little things like licking my lips to let him know exactly where my dirty mind had gone.

I took a sip of my ginger ale, pretty much the only thing in the place I could drink and not worry about my stomach or the health of my sweet baby.

“This seat taken?” A guy about my age, with a short beard, appeared beside me.

“I don’t know,” I spoke honestly. The guy who had been there excused himself to go to the restroom, but chances were high he got distracted along the way since it had been a solid twenty minutes. “The blond who was here might be coming back.”

“Sounds good. I’ll just sit here until my beer comes. My feet are killing me.” He sat on the bar stool and placed a ten on the counter. “What’s good here?”

I went into a spiel about my brother’s beer, and when Mitch took his order, he said, “One for me and one for…” His eyes fell to me.

Oh, hell no.

“For my pregnant mate?” Mitch placed his hand on mine. Good man. And mate? Damn, that sounded good.

“Oh shit. Pregnant?” The man beside me stammered as Mitch and I both nodded our heads. “Uh, sorry, dude. I didn’t realize.”

He left the ten on the counter and fled the bar faster than his slight faux pas necessitated.

“That was weird. He should’ve stayed to have his beer. No harm.” I took a long drag of my ginger ale.

Mitch puffed out his chest a bit, although I’m not sure he was aware of doing it. “He sensed my wrath.”

“That wasn’t wrath, it was staking your claim. I liked it.” Loved it. Same difference. But seeing him there all “back off he’s mine” had me hard as a rock. Actually, painfully hard. And not in a good way.

“What’s wrong, love?” Mitch shouted over the counter. Or maybe he wasn’t shouting. Everything was getting so loud, and my cock fucking hurt.

“I...I don’t know.”

He turned around and headed in the wrong direction. I tried to hold my arms out to grab him, beg him to stay. They wouldn’t move. Something wasn’t right. The loud became staticy...then became nonsensical like an old-fashioned video on slow motion.

Next thing I knew, Mitch was scooping me off the barstool and walking me down the hallway shouting something I didn’t even understand.

Nothing was making sense.

The only thing in focus was the pain in my groin.

What was happening to me?