Page 31 of The Dragon’s Accidental Manny

CAM

I was tucking into my lunch after everyone else had eaten earlier, but I sensed I was being watched.

Four heads were stacked around the doorframe, with Jack at the bottom and Price at the top. Their gaze was fixed on me as I lifted the fork from the plate to my mouth.

“I’m having my lunch. I do it every day. It’s not exciting, guys.”

“You’re eating steak, but there’s no salad.” Isla was on tiptoes staring at my food.

Jack waggled a finger. “We need vegetables to be healthy.”

Oh, yikes. He sounded just like me. I was beginning to regret embarking on an eat food other than meat mission with the kids.

“Why is the steak almost raw?” Price smirked as he put a hand to his ear. “I can almost hear it mooing.”

“You can?” Jack and Isla said together as they looked around.

Bea didn’t speak because she was trying and failing to stifle her giggles as she juggled a tablet.

I sighed. “It’s a craving. It happens in pregnancy.”

“That’s true.” Price came into the kitchen with the kids at his heels. “But I think our little dragon likes their meat undercooked.”

I didn’t admit to my mate that yesterday after he was asleep, I’d stood in front of the fridge and pondered whether to eat a banana or a raw sausage, and I’d chosen the latter.

But Bea had caught me last night. She was recording every aspect of my pregnancy—in her deadpan documentary style voice—“for science” because there were so few human-and-dragon-shifter mated pairs.

“The subject consumed a raw sausage. Standing. In the dark. Declined to comment,” she’d dictated.

Price put his chin on my head and both hands over the slight curve of my belly. “It’ll be interesting to see what you’re eating by the end of the pregnancy.”

Bea said a shifter journal might even publish her research and told me the information would be useful for my next baby.

I choked on my decaf coffee, which wasn’t hard because it was foul. “Let’s get through this one first.”

“Is everyone ready?” Price had changed into the overalls he wore at the studio, and he pushed up his sleeves. I regulated my breathing because just like I did when I’d met him, I wanted to climb that man.

“Lead the way.” The kids and I formed a line behind him and marched toward the guest room.

We’d been putting off turning the room into a nursery. Not because we didn’t want to, but the children had opinions about what the baby wanted and needed.

“The baby wants a slide,” Jack announced.

“Oh yeah,” Isla scoffed. “Did the little one tell you that in one of your conversations?”

“Yes.”

Whenever I was sitting down, Jack would drag his toy basket beside me and inform the baby he was going to show them the toys. Isla usually interrupted by telling him the baby couldn’t hear him.

“Babies don’t need slides, sweetheart.” Price was kneeling beside our son, trying to convince him he wasn’t installing a slide above a newborn.

“A small one?” Jack had on his hopeful expression.

“Nope.”

“Shouldn’t the crib be fireproof?” Bea was examining the box containing the crib pieces.

I shot up off my chair and overbalanced, but Price caught me. “Please tell me the baby won’t have fire from birth?” We’d need the fire brigade on standby, though Price could pull fire inside him.