Since Sascha had no external meetings of her own, she’d chosen to stay home with Naya, though they’d barely actually been at home. Aside from the afternoon play session, they’d gone out for an hour in the morning so Naya could play with Anu’s toddler—the sweet-natured two-year-old and Naya were fast friends.
Sascha had taken the chance to have a coffee with Anu as the two of them watched their children play. She’d expected stories of juvenile shenanigans from the cheerful maternal female, Anu’s task in the pack to monitor the emotional health of the eleven-to-thirteen-year-old group, but Anu had shocked her with the news that the children hadn’t gotten up to any tricks over the past week.
“The good behavior won’t last,” she’d predicted with faux solemnity, her prettily plump face set in suspicious lines. “They’re just lulling us into a false sense of security. Then . . . pounce!”
Sascha was thinking she had to share Anu’s comment with Lucas when he nipped at her lower lip.
“I’m glad to be home,” he said. “It’s been a hell of a day.” Another kiss, this one hard and fast, before he looked at Naya again. “Why are you pulling Papa’s hair?”
Naya’s smile was pure gleeful cat. “Ooo!”
Sascha tensed her stomach in an effort to fight her laughter; she knew that only encouraged their daughter. But, God, it was hard—she had no idea how Tamsyn did it with her twins. Who, incidentally, had taught Naya the word “oops” as a way to respond when caught making trouble. She could only enunciate “ooo,” but her meaning was clear. She also knew the names of the twins, though she couldn’t say Roman and Julian yet, only Ro and Jul.
“Ooo is right.” Lucas growled at Naya.
Naya growled back, the sound so adorable and their cub’s pride in making it such a huge, happy thing, that, once again, Sascha just could not keep a straight face. Turning away to hide her tearing eyes and laughter so Naya wouldn’t realize how easily she could cute her way out of trouble, she breathed deep. Only when she had herself under control did she turn and take Naya back into her arms. “Come on, let’s go have your milk so your papa can shower.”
Following at their backs, Lucas pulled the door closed and locked it again. “It’s safe to release the escape artist.”
Sascha loved carrying Naya, loved feeling her warm weight, but she’d learned that leopard changeling cubs did best if they were allowed a certain independence from a young age. When Naya wanted a cuddle, she’d find her. So she stole another cheek kiss before putting Naya on the play mat on which her daughter had stacked her blocks. Then she watched her mate walk toward the shower.
Her sigh was deep.
It was unfair, how good he looked in an old pair of jeans and a simple T-shirt.
Glancing over his shoulder as he reached the safely folded and stowed screen they used to separate out the living and sleeping areas when they had guests, Lucas grinned. “Hold that thought until our princess is asleep.”
Sascha kept her gaze locked to that of her wild panther, let the cat know she saw it prowling under his skin. “Oh, I intend to.”
A chuckle before he went the rest of the way to the shower located off the bedroom area.
Going into the kitchenette, Sascha picked up the sippy cup and brought it out to Naya. “There you go, baby girl.”
Naya held the childproof cup with firm hands, little fingers around the handles on either side. Her eyes widened when she took the first sip out of the raised bit designed to ensure the milk wouldn’t spill should it fall from her hands. “Cho!”
“Yes, chocolate. You were very good at Anu’s—I thought you deserved a treat.” Rising to her feet, she went into the kitchenette to finish dinner preparations. Naya’s meal was easy—when Sascha dropped off the twins this afternoon, Tamsyn had given her a fresh jar of toddler-appropriate stew that Naya loved.
If only adult food were so straightforward.
“Right,” she said, and continued what she’d been doing before stopping to make Naya’s milk.
She was still a terrible cook overall, but she’d learned to make a few things that were fail-safe, and since Lucas had made sure they were fed three days running, it was only fair she take a turn.
However, not only were her skills as a cook dismal, she had nothing on how sexy Lucas looked while cooking. Especially since he had a tendency to walk around the aerie wearing only his jeans, those jeans hanging precariously low. Sighing again at the memory—then grinning because he’d probably come out of the shower with nothing but a towel hitched around his hips, she put the potato cheese bake she’d already prepared into the oven.
Her plan was to pair it with the chicken she’d put in to roast prior to the troubling call from Ivy Jane. She crossed her fingers that the chicken wouldn’t burn or be undercooked. It remained her nemesis, along with a thousand other things.
Picking up the organizer, she walked into the living room. She’d watch over Naya while Lucas showered, then put away work for the day. But first she had to reply to a—“Eep!”
She jumped at the feel of something biting her ankle, glancing down just in time to see a furry black head disappear back under the small pink play table next to her. Eyes wide, Sascha tiptoed closer, was about to look beneath the table when she felt a deep need to do this with her mate by her side. “Lucas,” she whispered, reaching for him through the mating bond.
The shower shut off a heartbeat later, and then a dripping Lucas, white towel wrapped around his hips exactly as she’d imagined, was walking out. “What’s the matter?”