I jolted at the barked question and lost my footing. Had I been on a chair, I’d likely have toppled backward. Since I was on the sturdy bench, I simply stepped off and landed on my feet.

“Christ, Mac!”

Before I could let Ward know I was fine, the crazy man came vaulting over the fence.

“How’d you—”

“Are you okay?” His large hands cupped my cheeks as his panicked eyes scanned me.

“I’m fine.”

“The baby. Did you hit your stomach? Do you need to call 911? Did you fall?”

“The baby is fine. I didn’t fall or hit my stomach. Everything is okay.”

His shoulders visibly loosened.

The concern.

The panic.

The relief.

Tears filled my eyes, and the muscles that’d just relaxed in his body went taut again. “What’s wrong? Does something hurt?”

“No, I’m…” I shook my head, dislodging his hold as I swiped at the tears and let out a self-deprecating laugh. “Just hormonal is all.”

“What were you doing up there?” His words were softer and gentler than his original question, though I got the feeling he wanted to bark it again.

“I was looking for you.”

That made him freeze. “Why?”

“To say hi. Be neighborly.”

He didn’t believe my bullshit for a single second. An arrogant smile spread across his face. “You want to know what I’m grilling.”

“No,” I lied. “I smelled the food and figured you were out here, so I came to say hi.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Okay.”

Phew.

He watched me for a long moment. “I gotta go pull the steaks off the grill.”

Not phew.

Un-phew.

Opposite of phew.

I salivated so much, I could’ve reversed a drought.

“Real steak,” he added, teasing me with the food and the disdain in his voice. “None of that cauliflower shit.”

“Sounds delicious,” I forced out.

“Should be.” Another cocky smirk. “Steaks are my specialty.”

He turned to leave, heading for the fence door instead of Olympic hurdling back over.

My manners—fine, mostly my pride—wanted to let him go, but I couldn’t.

“Ward.”

He stopped and turned around, his brow raised expectantly.

I inhaled deeply. “If you have leftovers…”

“Made this for both of us.”

My stomach warmed and swirled, and not just because of the upcoming meal.

Now that he knows about my shortcomings, he feels obligated to feed me.

He pities me.

But the thoughts had no barbs to cut with. No fire to burn with.

I couldn’t twist his considerate gesture into something ugly.

That didn’t mean I wasn’t surprised by it.

“You did?” I asked.

“Ophelia gave me the list of recommendations to drop off to you. Figured I’d bring it over with an actual steak dinner.”

“So this aloof thing was just—”

“Payback for the heart attack you gave me by standing on that chair.”

I gestured next to me. “It was the bench.”