Page 28 of When She Needs Them Most
“Good morning.” I bend, nuzzling my cheek to hers. “You look lovely.” It dawns on me several seconds too late that I had no right to mark her cheek with my scent, but she smiles and slides into the booth without calling me on my atrocious behavior.
The amused looks on Kase’s and Linc’s faces indicate the move did not go unnoticed by them.
Sighing, I slide in at Chelsea’s side. Lincoln mentioned how run-down she seems in the text to invite me to breakfast. Seeing it for myself makes my skin physically itch with the need to fix whatever is ailing her.
Too bad I don’t have a single idea how to manage that.
Cordelia comes over and makes small talk with Kase and Lincoln as she refills their coffee.
Chelsea picks at her pancakes, but she doesn’t seem overly enthusiastic about them.
Tossing my arm over the back of the booth, I lean closer. “How are you feeling?”
Her head tilts, and she blinks up at me from behind her dark blonde lashes. “I’m okay. The third trimester is pretty actively kicking my ass, but I’ll survive.”
“When do you see the doctor?” I ask, frowning. She’s paler than she was the last time I saw her. Dark circles ring her eyes, and she has a glassy look to her gaze that normally indicates someone feels under the weather.
“Tomorrow.” She drops her fork. “It’s probably just stress.”
I move my arm from the booth to wrap around her shoulder and pull her closer. Her electric scent has always smelled unique to me and much different from the way Kase and Lincoln explain it, but there’s something off about it at the moment.
“Would you like me to call the office and see if we can get you in today?” I tease my fingers through her hair as her face comes to rest on my chest.
“No way,” she whispers. “They haven’t even seen me as a patient yet. It was almost impossible to find an OB that would take on a patient this far along. I’d rather not make waves or be a hassle.”
“That makes little sense to me. Wouldn’t it be even more vital to find a doctor, considering how far along you are?”
“Yeah, but one office told me if I went to the hospital, they would just assign whoever was on call to deliver me.” Her nose roots around, and she turns so far into me that she ends up in my armpit. “At my other office, they saw patients every week during the last month of pregnancy, so that feels a lot like a last resort.”
“But you were able to secure a doctor’s appointment?” I ask to clarify.
“Yeah,” she agrees, but it’s muffled by my shirt.
That’s good to hear. Otherwise, I’d be using every resource at my disposal to leverage an appointment for her this very afternoon. Many of the businesses here in Blacksburg and the other surrounding towns are secured by systems Lincoln personally installed.
My hand soothes down her side, and I stare at my chest in utter shock when it begins to rattle with an underused purr. Chelsea gasps, rubbing her cheek against the vibration. My jaw falls at the feeling of the bouncing occurring against my hip. Bringing my other hand around, I slide it over her dress. The baby moves so violently that I have no trouble picking it up through the material.
“That is astounding,” I whisper before I can stop myself. My entire body tenses. If I bring attention to the fact I’m touching her without permission, she may ask me to stop.
“It sure is,” she says, but she’s busy running her fingers over my purring chest.
“Are the two of you okay over there?” Lincoln asks, sounding amused.
Christ.
I can only imagine what we look like, but at the same time, I can’t bring myself to care.
My annoyance ratchets higher when Kase starts to chuckle. I’m not sure when Cordelia disappeared, but my packmates are now fully focused on me and the omega. My jaw clenches, but lashing out at either of them with Chelsea as an audience wouldn’t be a smart move.
The last thing I want to do is to pry my hand away from following the baby’s movements, but Chelsea barely had five bites of her pancakes. Not that they’ll provide any protein or much nutrition, anyway.
“Are you a vegetarian?” I ask, snagging my fork left-handed. My right tends to be my preferred hand, but I’m just ambidextrous enough to feed her with either.
“No.”
“Bacon or sausage?”
“I’m fine.”
