Page 16 of Curvy Nanny for the Cougar (Uncle Uzzi’s Date to Mate #3)

Dane

T rying to work while sharing a roof with my unclaimed mate?

Impossible.

I’ve reread the same sentence twelve times.

My email inbox is overflowing.

The only thing I’ve managed to successfully complete today is a third mug of black coffee and a silent mental breakdown.

My Cougar is pissed.

Scratching at my insides, pacing just under my skin like he’s five seconds from ripping through and dragging her back to our bed by the hips.

He growls every time she walks past the door.

Hell, every time she laughs with Alex, I feel like I’m combusting from the inside out.

Mine. Ours. Why haven’t you claimed her?

Because it’s complicated, I growl back.

Because she’s human.

She doesn’t know about our world. About Shifters, about magic, about fated mates and instincts older than time.

And because I don’t want to scare her away.

Yet. Ever.

While I try to finish a client response for a Witch and her Djinn ex fighting over custody of an enchanted garden gnome (don’t ask), I keep checking my phone for a reply from Uzzi.

I need answers. Help. A manual, maybe.

Because the Cougar inside me is about two seconds from breaking every rule I’ve ever set for myself.

And then, I hear it.

The familiar ping of an incoming Swoosh call. The magical equivalent of Zoom lights up the center of my office in a shimmer of blue smoke and glittering stardust.

A floating, smug face forms in the center.

“Dear boy,” Uncle Uzzi drawls, his pale blue eyes glowing like twin moons as his disembodied head floats above my desk, spinning gently.

“What seems to be the problem now ?”

I scrub a hand down my face.

“The problem? She lives here now. She's great with Alex. Sweet. Smart. Incredible with kids. But she avoids me like I’m patient zero in a Demon flu outbreak.”

He tsks dramatically.

“Oh no, not avoidance! The deadliest of mating rituals. Have you tried grunting at her from behind a bush? That seems to be all the rage with the badgers lately.”

I glare.

“This isn’t funny, Uncle Uzzi. My Cougar is losing his damn mind. He wants her claimed . Marked. Mated. Hell, so do I.”

“Then claim her! You’re a grown man with opposable thumbs. What’s the hold-up?”

“She’s human, ” I hiss. “She doesn’t know anything about our world. About Shifters. About fated mates . She thinks I’m just some moody single dad with anger issues and a caffeine addiction.”

“Well, you are , but that’s beside the point.”

I roll my eyes.

He’s not wrong. But still.

“You don’t get it. I love her. And I want her. So damn badly. I just?—”

“I do get it. What I don’t get is how you can argue interdimensional property law with a Vampire tribunal but can’t form a single coherent sentence to the woman you’re cosmically bound to.”

“That’s different! There are rules in court. Structure. Precedent. There’s no precedent for this.”

“Oh, boo-hoo,” Uzzi says, rotating upside down just to be annoying. “You’re a litigator , boy. Use your words! Preferably ones with fewer syllables than ‘amicable custody settlement,’ and more emotion than a tax form.”

I groan. “It’s not that easy.”

“It is that easy. You're just afraid. She scares you.”

“She doesn’t scare me,” I snap, a little too fast.

He arches a weirdly spectral brow.

“She should. Humans like her are rare. Not just fated— formidable. Your souls clicked into place like a wand to a wand holster. You don’t walk away from that.”

“I’m not trying to walk away!” I pace. “But I can’t just dump magic and mating bonds and Cougar instincts on her. She’s not ready.”

“Darling,” Uzzi sighs, now gently spinning in a circle like a bored mobile. “She’s already in your home. She’s already halfway into your life. She survived a week with a five-year-old Shifter who eats like a teenage werewolf and does karate kicks in his sleep. That woman’s stronger than she looks.”

I run a hand through my hair. “So what do I do?”

Uzzi winks. “Tell her the truth. With your big grown-up lawyer words.”

“I swear to all the freaking gods, if you make one more joke about lawyers?—”

“Would I ever? ” he gasps, clutching his floating spectral pearls.

“Please. I have the utmost respect for your profession. So noble. So wordy. So emotionally constipated. And yet so necessary, liebling, seriously! I respect you, and you need to respect that I know my job as well as yours. If she is your fated one, then by all means, tell her .”

I open my mouth to tell him exactly where he can file his sarcasm and his shitty advice when?—

Knock. Knock. Click.

The door opens.

“Dane, can we— OH MY GOD, WHAT IS THAT?! ”

Uzzi’s head swivels toward the doorway just as Tamare stares, eyes wide.

“ Oho, ” he says, delighted. “ There she is. The mate in question. Isn’t she just luminous? No wonder you’re panicking.”

Her knees buckle.

“ Shit— ” I catch her just before she hits the floor.

Uzzi beams.

“Looks like the cat’s out of the bag. Call me if you need backup— or a reality-softening potion. Toodles!”

POP—off goes the Swoosh call.

And he’s gone.

Leaving me cradling my mate on the floor of my office, her breathing shallow, her eyes fluttering like she’s in a fever dream, and my heart pounding harder than it did the day Alex was born.

Here goes nothing.

I gently lift her in my arms, moving to the couch. She’s so soft. So warm.

I can’t help myself, I sniff her neck, stroke her soft skin, feel her pulse racing.

Goddamn, she is so perfect.

So, how the hell do I explain to the woman I’m head over heels for that monsters are real— and I’m one of them?