"Go on, you ham!" I called after him.
Mine was truly a charmed life.
By the time he joined me downstairs, I stood at the counter, slow cooker open, dishing out a bowl. It was just warm enough and would need little time to cool before he could eat. “You’ve got a few minutes,” I said.
“Oh, good. I wanted to shoot off a couple of emails I didn’t get to before I left the office.” He pressed a kiss to my cheek and walked toward our home office.
Movement out the window had me jerking my gaze. I cried out as hot soup sloshed over my hand.
I scurried to the kitchen sink and held it under the tap as I peered out the window. I could have sworn someone walked past the window, but I couldn’t be sure. They’d seemed to have been moving so fast, and I hadn’t heard footsteps on the back porch.
As the sting in my hand faded, I peered left and right, trying to figure out what in the world had gone past my kitchen window. I knew damn well I wasn't imagining things. I'd not been cursed with an overactive imagination.
Lucian was the one that was whimsical and silly at times. I loved that about him, but even as I was thankful that hewas, I wasn't. He complimented me in so many ways. His sweet optimism to my cold cynicism.
Shutting off the water, I dried my hands and pushed my long, black hair over my shoulder as I leaned forward to look again.
There was nothing back there; still, I had to be sure.
After tiptoeing to the back door, I opened it slowly, wary of someone jumping out to scare me. Pregnancy brought a certain amount of paranoia with it, and I had no desire to be the next big news story. When I was sure there wasn't anyone near the back door, I stepped out onto the porch and looked around the backyard.
Empty.
"What the heck?" I rubbed my belly, comforting the baby, who didn't need comforting at all. I needed it because I felt like a lunatic.
But damn. I hadn't imagined it. "You're not losing it, Connie."
As I turned to go back in the house, movement caught my eye on the other side of our yard and our neighbor’s field. An enormous brown owl launched out of our neighbor's barn.
"Holy shit!" I squinted against the dwindling rays of the sun as the owl rose in the sky, then flew out of sight. It was possible that if it had flown by very close to the window, I could've mistaken it for someone walking by out of the corner of my eye. It was that big.
It didn't sit right, though. The shape I'd seen, even though it had only been a split second, had been tall, like a person, though very bulky.
"What are you doing out here?" Lucian asked.
I squeaked and whirled around again. "Stop scaring me!" I scolded. "You're going to put me into labor."
Concern washed over his face and he stepped outside. "Is that possible? I didn't mean to scare you."
Bless him. He was so worried about me all the time. "No, silly. I don't think it's possible to be startled into labor."
He put his hands on my belly and rubbed softly. I couldn't stand for anyone else to do that, but when he did, I wanted to purr like a kitten. "Good. I wouldn't do anything to harm either of you." He bent and nuzzled my belly as I tickled the back of his neck and smiled at him. "Why are you out here, though?"
"I thought I saw something through the window."
He straightened and looked around. "Like an animal?"
Shaking my head, I looked toward the barn, but the owl was long gone. "I thought it was a person, but when I got out here, nobody was here. Just a huge owl. I'm guessing the owl flew by really close to the window."
He nodded. "That makes sense."
"It’s almost time for you to leave." We walked back into the house, and I grabbed a cloth to clean up the soup I'd spilled.
"Fifteen minutes," he said, his mouth already full of soup. "This is so good."
I smiled and rinsed the rag out. "I'm glad you like it. You always cook for me, it's nice to do it for you once in a while."
Lucian hated for me to cook. I wasn't particularly good at it, but I could follow basic instructions like a badass. I didn’t consider throwing ingredients into a pot Michelin star cooking, but he still hated to see me work, though.
