Page 35 of Targeted By Fate
He patted my arm and sighed. “I know. Now help me up because I need my one coffee a day.”
I settled him on the couch and made the coffee. When I handed it to him, I asked if he had any plans for the day. If he was leaving the house, I’d have to tell Josh to cover for me at work. But Alpha would notice if I was missing and demand an explanation. Alpha’s generation of shifters rarely took a day off, and they didn’t skip work when their mate was pregnant.
“Not much, just working from home.”
After the fiasco of Keane working at the nightclub, he’d found a work-from-home marketing position.
“Lunch is in the fridge, and there’s a post-it note with how many minutes to put it in the microwave.” I hadn’t cooked, but I’d ordered in and researched online how long it’d need to be heated. No way was I having my mate cooking near an open flame on the gas cooktop. Way too dangerous, especially with me at pack headquarters.
“I think I’ll manage.” My mate rolled his eyes but pulled me in for a kiss before I headed out.
“Call if you need anything.”
“I will.” He waved me away and took out his laptop.
As soon as I got in the car, I checked the app that was linked to a camera I’d installed in the living room. There was another in the bedroom, and I’d add a third in the nursery before the baby arrived.
And I’d installed a tracing app on his phone.
Lake told me I should have informed Keane about the cameras, and he was right, but if I did, he’d insist I remove them. Technically, I had told my mate about the cameras and the tracking app, but he’d been almost asleep. But I’d never taken notice of all the dangers in a home until my mate got pregnant. He might slip in the shower or trip over a mat. He might bang his head on a cupboard or fall down the stairs. Gods, how did anyone survive living in a two-story house?
Even though shifters’ injuries were usually minor and we could repair them thanks to our beasts—though not the drug-related ones our kind had suffered in the night club poisonings—Keane was pregnant, and I worried that him ingesting that drug twice would have a long-term effect on him and the baby.
After I parked the car at headquarters and before I got out, I checked the app. All good. My mate was still on the sofa tapping at the computer keyboard. But wait, was that a full cup of coffee on the table? I peered at the grainy image. He’d drunk half before I left the house, so this had to be a second one.
The doctor had said one a day while pregnant. Maybe I should rush home, but my beast settled my nerves, saying Keane would never harm our baby. He was right. My mate adored the little one in his belly, even though he wasn’t showing yet.
I breathed in deeply before setting foot in the office. The next hour was a whirlwind of activity. Not the killing kind but paperwork and planning. The boring kind. The role of Alpha included meetings, handshaking, issuing orders, reams of paperwork, and an occasional war.
Did I really want the job? Oh yeah, I did, and Keane would be an excellent Alpha Omega.
It was lunch time before I got a break and checked the app. But my mate was neither in the living room or the bedroom. Maybe he was on the toilet? I waited, but he didn’t appear. He must be sick and I had to get home, but when I called, he answered straight away.
“Hi.” There was a lot of background noise, so he either was watching TV or he was out. Where were the bodyguards? They were supposed to contact me if he left the house. We’d come to an agreement about security during his pregnancy, though he still hated having bodyguards hovering.
There were three missed calls on the phone. Damn.
“Where are you?”
“Shopping.”
My heart was beating so loud Keane might be able to hear it. “And the bodyguards?”
“I told them to take their lunch break. They aren’t needed when I’m choosing avocados or waiting in line at the bakery.”
Gods, not the bakery my former lover owned. Eeek!
“You can’t eat bread, cake, buns or pies. They’re bad for pregnant omegas.”
“Wait.” He must have put the phone down or placed it against his chest because I could only just pick up his muffled words. And he was talking to a very familiar voice.
Damn, he was going to hear about my escapades with the baker. I dreaded the tales my ex lover was regaling him with.
“What did you say about not eating bread?”
“Oh, ummm, that bakery isn’t very good.
“How do you know which bakery I’m at?”
