Yvette lived in a tract home in a decent older neighborhood with mature trees and weeded flowerbeds. I found a bit of sidewalk that didn’t have a pile of leaves in the gutter, and parked. The sky was overcast, but rain didn’t seem likely so I left my coat in the car.
I got the flowers out of the trunk and went up the concrete walkway to the front entrance. There was a button for the doorbell next to the mailbox. I pressed it one time.
It couldn’t have been more than a minute before someone came, but it felt like an hour. I smoothed down my tie and switched the flowers from one hand to another and wondered what the hell I was doing there.
When Yvette finally opened the front door, I felt a surge of relief and lust. If the security door hadn’t separated us, I might have swept her soft lush body into my arms. Down, I told my foolish bear.
Yvette hovered behind the door, eying me like she knew what I was thinking.
I cleared my throat. “Hello.”
“Hello, Terrence.” Opening the security door, she let me in to a tiny hall.
I wiped my feet on the mat, concentrating on my shoes rather than the overwhelming sensations washing over me. Her musky scent, the heat of her body, the frizz of hair she pushed out of her eyes, her bold-shy gaze…
She led me into a living room furnished with a long couch, a couple of stuffed chairs, and end tables. Bright rugs were scattered over the hardwood floor. A football game was on the wide-screen TV, the sound muted.
Her father got up from the chair facing the TV. I’d met him before, of course. But this time was different.
He held out his hand, and Yvette took the flowers from me and disappeared through another doorway. As we shook hands, I reevaluated him. Average height, on the slim side with a barrel chest, thinning gray hair on a shiny brown dome, suspicious and slightly antagonistic toward me.
“So you finally showed up,” he said in a conversational tone that had an underlying bite.
“Yes, sir.” Hell, my face was turning red. I had fucked her and dumped her, according to their view. It didn’t matter that she wanted it. I knew she was human.
“Niners or Raiders?” He jerked his head toward the TV.
“Niners,” I answered automatically.
“Good. Raiders all the way for me. I get to watch you eat dirt.”
“No, sir, not this season. Niners are on the way back.”
He crowed disagreement, and waved me to the couch. “So, you met Yvette at Georgette’s wedding.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And then you took my nineteen-year-old daughter out in the woods and got lost overnight and brought her back injured.”
And pregnant. At least he didn’t know that yet.
“I didn’t mean for us to spend the night out.” The whole story wasn’t something I could share, especially with a human.
“Hmmph.” He glanced at the TV, where one of the ends was racing down the field until he got tackled at the twenty-yard line. Her father’s eyes, distinctly unfriendly, came back to me. “You’re too old to make mistakes like that. Yvette’s a good girl and she’s got a future ahead of her. She doesn’t need anyone who thinks she’s his plaything. You understand me?”
Squashing my bear’s agitation, I stared back coolly. “Yvette’s not anyone’s plaything.”
“You remember that.” Despite his puniness next to my bulk, he emanated a deadly intent that I couldn’t help but respect.
Conversation lapsed, and we spent a tense few minutes watching the game before Yvette returned. Her presence soothed my ruffled hackles.
“Dinner’s ready. Terrence, let me show you to the bathroom so you can wash your hands.”
The bathroom was back through the front entryway to a dark hall. The pink walls warmed the cool daylight shining through the window. I had to bend to reach the faucet. Her face and hair glowing in the pink-tinted light, Yvette stood in the doorway and watched as I duly washed my hands and dried them on the pink towel.
“Don’t you have to wash too?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I already did.”
I replaced the hand towel, and she still blocked the doorway. “Well.”
“You don’t have to be here if you don’t want to be.” Her eyes were dark and intense.
“I—” I wanted to be wherever she was. But I knew it wouldn’t last. I’d stick it out as long as she’d let me, and then I’d take my shifter child and leave. By then she wouldn’t want either of us anyway.
“You can still go.”
“No.” Taking a step forward, I glared down at her. “You’re not going to get rid of me.” Yet.
She was too close to me. My arms slipped around her waist, hugging her soft curves to me. She was so warm, and smelled so tempting. Her aroma had changed since I last held her. Now she was pregnant with my cub, and the smell made my bear dizzy with delight.
Her arms wound around my neck, her delicious softness pressed against me. Pulling her into the narrow room, I closed the door behind her.
Her mouth was even sweeter than I remembered. Kissing her for a long timeless moment, I felt like I was drinking her soul. I wanted to plunge my cock into the center of her heat. I strained against her, holding her so tight that her being merging with mine, our clothes just extra molecules.
The knock on the door tore us apart.
“Dinner is on the table.” The voice of Yvette’s mother held exasperation.
“We’ll be right there,” Yvette called breathlessly.
Her eyes were so bright, her lips swollen… I stole another kiss before I let her open the door.
We walked into the dining room hand in hand. Both her parents noticed, but despite my slight embarrassment I refused to pull away from Yvette. Her hand belonged in mine, at least for now.
A white linen tablecloth covered the dining room table. The flowers I’d brought, an arrangement of pink and yellow roses, were in a tall crystal vase on the china hutch.
Yvette caught me looking at the table, which looked tiny for the room. “I took the leaves out because it’s just the four of us.” She pushed me toward one of the chairs.
“Where are you sitting?”
“Opposite you.”
I pulled her chair out for her.
“Oh honey,” Yvette’s mother said to Mr. Conway, her eyes twinkling.
“Early days,” he scoffed.
I sat, pinned down for attack, Yvette’s parents on either side of me. While the situation wasn’t life-threatening, not like fighting off a pack of wolves, I felt a rush of adrenaline. My bear, roused by the aroma of lasagna, fresh cornbread, and ham, just wanted to eat.
Yvette’s father said grace. I bent my head, but instead of closing my eyes I watched Yvette. Her lashes were long and thick, her cheeks a gleaming brown. She must have felt me watching her, because she opened her eyes and stared back at me. I could have dived into those brown depths.
“Amen,” her father said. “Let’s eat.”
“Pass your plate and I’ll serve you,” Yvette’s mother said to me.
Obediently I gave her my plate. She gave me a sizable helping of lasagna and a slab of ham, and then passed my plate back. Yvette’s father passed me the cornbread, and I took a piece before passing the plate on to Yvette’s mother.
Just a regular family dinner. It hadn’t been that long since I’d been to one. But this time my ma—Yvette was with me.
“Where do you work?” Yvette’s father asked.
“I’m the senior operative at Bruin Security Services.” The lasagna was delicious, fresh cottage cheese and the pasta cooked to just the right texture.
Yvette’s father continued, “What does that involve?”
“I run things, mostly, with some field work. Looking for lost people, looking for lost things, providing protection.”
He swallowed his mouthful of ham. “Sounds like it could be dangerous.”
“Can be,” I said vaguely. “So’s firefighting. But someone’s got to do it. Mrs. Conway, did you make the lasagna from scratch?”
“Yvette made it. And yes, she baked it from scratch.”
“It tastes wonderful,” I told Yvette.
Her tentative smile made me ashamed that I hadn’t given her any reason to smile before.
“Does your family live here in town?” Mrs. Conway asked.
“My parents are dead,” I said shortly. Murdered. They wouldn’t see their grandcub. My cub would never know his grandparents. The grief rose up, not just my loss anymore.
“I’m so sorry,” Mrs. Conway said, her face sincere. Mr. Conway nodded with her. Yvette’s eyes were so tender I couldn’t bear to look at her.
They might not be sorry if they knew my parents were shifters.
“Thanks,” I said awkwardly, and was relieved that the inquisition appeared to be over.
Yvette mentioned seeing Georgette recently, which made Mrs. Conway exclaim at how nice her wedding had been. Talk moved from them to some people Mr. Conway worked with at the utility company, and then on to the latest shenanigans of the mayor.
I put away a few more helpings of lasagna, ham, and greens, with a healthy side of cornbread.
“Are you going to have room for dessert?” Yvette asked. She’d barely eaten a thing herself.
“Yes,” I said immediately, which wasn’t amusing to me, but Yvette and her parents laughed.
I helped Yvette carry the dirty dishes and serving bowls to the kitchen.
“What is it?” I asked, nodding at the dessert sitting on the counter. It smelled sweet and fruity.
“Pineapple upside down cake.”
“Did you make it too?”
“Yes.” She pushed a stray curl off her forehead.
“Then it’s bound to be good.”
She laughed uneasily. “You don’t have to try so hard.”
“I’m not,” I protested. My bear burped agreement. Anything she fixed us would be good, even if she left the sugar out of the cake or the eggs out of the omelet.
Ignoring me, she sent me back to the dining room with the cake while she carried plates and forks.
After my second piece of cake, I was finally full.
Lulled by the good food, I’d forgotten that we were going to tell Yvette’s parents she was pregnant. But then Yvette got up. Pushing me back in my seat, she stood behind me, one hand on my shoulder. My earlier tension returned. I was pinned in on both sides and from behind.
Yvette must have felt my muscles bunching under her palm. “Terrence,” she whispered. Her warm breath ruffled my hair.
I took a breath. It was just Yvette behind me.
“Mama, Daddy.” Yvette’s voice had just the slightest wobble. “We’ve got something to tell you.”
I covered her hand with mine. Her fingers were cold.
Mr. Conway glared at us, instantly suspicious. Mrs. Conway, despite her placid expression, had a slight frown on her brow.
“We’re going to have a baby.”
Mr. Conway leaped to his feet. “What the hell!”
Yvette pressed down on both my shoulders, trying to hold me in place. The urge to protect her was overwhelming. I stood, thrusting her behind me, and managed to keep my bear in check as I faced her parents. “We’re getting married,” I said evenly.
“I haven’t agreed to that yet!” Yvette wiggled to my side. “And stop trying to intimidate my parents.”
“I’m not—”
“Then sit down.”
Sheepishly I obeyed. She put her hands on my shoulders again, and I leaned back into her soothing softness. My pulse slowed almost to normal.
Mr. Conway sank into his seat, a mighty frown on his face.
“What about your education?” Mrs. Conway asked.
“She doesn’t have to quit—”
“Terrence,” Yvette hissed. “She was asking me.”
So be it. I bit my tongue.
“I’m not quitting, Mama. It might take a little longer, is all.”
“When is this baby due?” Mr. Conway asked bitterly.
“I haven’t got an official date yet,” Yvette hedged.
“Are you sure you’re pregnant?” Mrs. Conway asked.
“Yes,” Yvette and I replied in unison.
Mr. Conway looked at me with dislike. “Yvette’s just a baby herself. You’re too old for any excuses. What do you have to say for yourself?”
The one time I really wanted Yvette to speak she was silent.
“Not much. I made a mistake.” My bear growled his disagreement. “I’m going to make sure my cub has a home.”
Both parents looked sideways at me.
“My baby, my cub, whatever. Anyway, I want to marry Yvette.”
“Hmmmph.” Mr. Conway’s glare became less intense.
“Don’t do anything hasty. Marriage is forever.” Mrs. Conway rubbed the spot between her eyebrows. “You were not the one I expected this from,” she complained to Yvette.
“I’m sorry, Mama,” Yvette said meekly.
But I didn’t feel any remorse in the touch of her hands. I twisted to look at her face, and she grinned at me. I couldn’t stop the blood from surging to my cock. Immediately I turned away, but somehow she knew what I felt. Her fingers digging into my shoulders didn’t help a bit.
None of us had much to say after that. Mrs. Conway told Yvette not to worry about the dishes, and Yvette asked me to take her for a drive. That sent a sour look across Mr. Conway’s face, but I was glad to escape.
“Thank you for dinner, Mrs. Conway, Mr. Conway.”
Mrs. Conway gave me a hug. I froze at the unexpected contact.
“You can call me Mama—”
Mr. Conway interjected, “Ike for me. If you’re still around in ten years, we’ll talk about Dad.”
“Daddy!” Yvette scolded, and dragged me out the front door.