Page 10 of The Ranger (Black Hawke Security #5)

SCARLETT

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A fter my emotional outburst a few days ago, I hope Cole lets me go to the appointment alone. Sadly, I know him well enough to know that he won’t.

I wasn’t planning to say all those things, but apparently my very thin filter is now almost non-existent. Add in that I can’t stop thinking about the things he’s said and how it felt touching him again.

I like it way too much.

Hence wearing one of my nice black pregnancy dresses instead of my leggings today. I tell myself I’m not putting on extra lip-gloss because I’m about to see him, but it’s true.

The door of the salon opens, and it’s like the entire vibe changes. Mr. Smooth walks in, lifts his sunglasses, grins at everyone with an afternoon, ladies, then glances around until his eyes land on me.

Like I’m his target.

“Hey, Cole,” Cassy says, wandering over with a pair of scissors in her hand, and tiptoes up so he can peck her on the cheek.

Why I feel jealous, I don’t know. Cassy is married and Cole is...Cole.

I grab my bag from the counter, and it falls out of my hand onto the floor. “Goddamn it.”

“I got it.” Cole closes the gap and, placing a hand on my hip, scoops it up and lifts it onto his shoulder. “Jesus this thing is heavy. Should you be carrying this? Wait. No. Don’t say it. I know you’re pregnant, not handicapped.”

Why is he still touching me? And why do I love the heat of his hand on me so damn much?

A few of our clients giggle. Not at his humor; they’re blinded by his biceps bursting out of the white shirt he’s wearing and the dusting of dark hair on his jawline.

That and his musky scent, which filled the salon the moment he walked in. A mighty task, given all the chemicals we have in here.

“Let’s go.” I shake my head.

His hand drifts from my hips to the small of my back as he pushes open the door. “See ya, Cassy.”

“Have fun,” she calls back.

“We will. It’s Scarlett’s favorite day of the week.”

“Blah, blah,” I mutter as we head to his car and slap at him. “Stop acting like you’re my boyfriend and get your hands off me.”

Ignoring me, Cole opens the door and then shoots me an annoyed glance as he closes it. He rounds the vehicle and climbs in.

Cole starts the car with a loud roar and drops his sunglasses over his eyes. I hate how handsome and smooth he is.

“Are you going to apologize?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Before pulling out into traffic, Cole turns and grabs my chin. “Because, sweetheart, the other night my tongue was sliding through your pussy, and you had no complaint then. Shut up and let me drive.”

How dare...

A shudder runs through me, tightening my abdomen and raising my body temperature by at least a million degrees. Holy hell , I shouldn’t be turned on by that blatant show of dominance, but I am.

Damn hormones.

Thirty minutes later, I’m on the table with the doctor’s hand inside me again while Cole stares out the window.

“So, how have you been feeling?” Jennifer, my OBGYN, asks.

I like her. She’s very good, but she’s also beautiful. In that successful, I have my life together and long, luscious blonde curls kind of way.

So I hate her, obviously.

“Tired. I think I’ve been having Braxton-Hicks.” I sigh.

Jennifer studies me. “Are you tracking them?”

“Not really.”

Cole turns and looks annoyed. I roll my eyes and look away.

“Well, the baby is in a good position, not breached, so if you do give birth soon that’s positive.”

Cole steps closer. “Do you think she will?”

Jennifer smiles at him, blinded by his beautiful face like every female on the planet. “If I knew that, Cole, I’d be a billionaire.”

Unaffected by the pretty doctor, his eyes dip to me. “Is she healthy? Everything else fine?”

She nods.

“Let’s take your blood pressure and get you to pee in a cup, take some other measurements, then we can answer that fully,” she replies. “I’m not concerned about anything at this point.”

“What if something does go wrong? What’s the plan?” he asks.

“Cole...”

“This is one of the best hospitals in the country. We deliver babies every day. If something happens, we will look after Scarlett and the baby,” Jennifer tells him confidently.

He nods, rubbing the back of his neck.

I bite my lip, wondering how it must feel to be so out of control. At least I’m carrying the baby and can feel it; he is just an observer. For someone so used to being powerful and dominant, it must be frustrating.

For once, I keep my smart-ass comments to myself. I am going to need him when the baby arrives. Then, more than ever.

I guess I’ve been expecting him to get a girlfriend—it could still happen—and become more of a bystander.

He hasn’t.

Now that we’ve been intimate again, if he did rock up with a girl on his arm, it would crush me. I am not in a position to deal with those kinds of emotions.

Yesterday, after hanging up on Cole, I curled up on the bed and cried. Pushing him away is so easy, but I am all alone.

Cassy would tell me otherwise, but I am.

I’ll be the one waking up a million times at night to feed the baby, change the diapers, teach it everything.

Cole will eventually want to take it to his place overnight, or for a whole weekend, while I lose my ever-loving mind wondering if it’s still alive.

Tears fill my eyes as my future flashes before me.

“Hey,” Cole takes my hand in his and squeezes, but I rip back and brush away the tear that falls onto my cheek.

“Indigestion,” I mutter.

Cole steps back and lets out a loud sigh, as frustrated with me as I am with him.

O N THE WAY home, we stop for groceries because “ take out will kill our baby, ” and Cole drops the bags on my kitchen bench.

“Go sit down, and I’ll cook.”

He does this. He makes me meals and then stays to eat with me.

I’d rather he eats me.

But he did that, and it only momentarily scratched the itch. I want more. So much more.

“Turn on the show. It’s starting in a few minutes,” Cole calls from the kitchen.

“I hate reality TV.”

“You’ve been saying that for six weeks, and yet here we are.” Cole laughs.

“We’re here because you stuck your dick inside me.” I grab the remote and turn the TV on.

Cole steps out holding a cucumber and points it at me. “We’re here because you wanted my dick, so don’t go putting this all on me.”

I bite my lip, almost laughing.

“Did you purposely choose a phallic vegetable?”

He shakes his head and walks back into the kitchen, but I saw the glint in his eyes. He loves bantering with me and...yeah. I like it, too.

Goddamn, he needs to leave.

I’m falling for him, and his being here so often does not help. I meant what I said the other day. Soon I’ll be on my own, because he’s only here for the kid.

Thursday nights have become our night, and we don’t have many left.

Three or four at most.

The show starts, and Cole pops in and out as he’s cooking, leaning on the edge of the sofa. I occasionally glance his way, taking in his rolled-up shirtsleeves and fancy suit pants.

Even with his tattoos, he looks like a businessman, and, my god, it’s sexy.

He’s usually in a polo shirt, jeans, or sweatpants depending on what he’s working on that week.

When the ads come on, I bite my lip and ask the question I’ve been wondering all week. He usually gives me a little more information, or gossips about the client vaguely, but this time he’s not said a thing.

“Cole?”

His bright blue eyes snap to mine.

“Is this job dangerous? The one you’re doing?”

“Compared to being in the Middle East or navigating my pregnant baby mamma?”

“Don’t do that. Is it?”

He pushes away from the sofa. “Everything I do has some risk, Scar. But I know what I’m doing.”

Yeah, because he’s a highly trained Army Ranger, but that doesn’t mean he won’t get hurt. I think about all the military brats who have lost their parents over the years. They were all trained.

Trina lost her father. It took her ages to trust Marshall and admit her feelings.

He was persistent.

Their wedding is in two weeks, and honestly, I am not sure I’ll make it, but I might.

Cole returns just as the show resumes and hands me a plate piled high with colorful roast vegetables, a roast chicken leg and sauteed sweet potato. He plonks down beside me and starts eating like it’s the most natural thing in the world to do.

Is this what it would be like to be his wife?

Afterward, we’d snuggle on the sofa, and he’d slide his fingers under my panties, making me come.

My body flares to life, and I fight the near constant arousal I feel when Cole is so close.

Or far.

Damn it, whenever I think of him.

All the damn time.

Thankfully, he’ll never know how wet my panties are right now.

“That guy,” he says with his mouthful, pointing at the screen. “I knew they would hook up. She was watching him right from the start.”

I swallow my broccoli and snort. “The whole thing is scripted. The camera shows you what to think.”

Cole looks between me and the screen. “Nope. I saw the way she was looking at him. Like a starved woman.”

I swallow.

Is that what he sees when he catches me watching him? If I could melt into the sofa and disappear from planet Earth, I would. Just some sex-craved pregnant woman who needs some cock?

I’ve spent three days jerking off, dreaming of your naughty cunt.

I swallow the rest of the chicken that’s sitting in my mouth and hope I’m just imagining the worst. I definitely wasn’t looking for a pity fuck.

Although, god, I am not complaining.

Still, I’m not sorry for stopping at oral sex the other night. Some people can probably separate their feelings if they fuck regularly, but I can’t. Not when I’m having his baby.

“JeSUS!” Cole suddenly chokes on his food and coughs, pointing at the screen. “Dude, you do not say that to a woman. Scar, did you—what?”

I shake my head when he does a double take at me. I was staring at him, and god knows what my face looked like.

“What?” he asks again.

“Nothing. You’re just very into this.” I shrug.

Swallowing, he watches me for a moment, then decides to let it go.

“Her boyfriend told her to stop talking. In front of all their friends.” Cole drops his cutlery. “Who does that? It’s very disrespectful.”

I snort. “You must think I’m rude, then.”

I’ve been nothing but snarky and rude since the moment I told him I’m pregnant, yet it seems to mostly roll off his back.

Yes, I do it even more to get a bite, but he’s Scarlett-proof.

“Not answering that.” Cole takes my plate and takes them both to the kitchen.

When he plonks back on the sofa and lays a hand behind me on the cushions, I sink down. Placing a hand on my belly, I ignore the thoughts I have every week. And fail.

This feels like he’s mine.

Why does he sit so close?

I could just lean a little and he’d be hugging me.

There’s an armchair, but he never sits on it.

What if...

Thursdays are the best, and worst, day of my week. They confuse me, and after crossing the line twice in the past week, this week is even harder.

Knowing these are the last few Thursdays, I feel somber.

“You don’t have to stay,” I whisper, hoping he’ll stay.

“The show is on. Be quiet,” Cole says, and I feel his hand brush over my hair.

The warmth of his body and the hum of the TV lull me into a dozy state. My head falls to the side, and Cole shifts to wrap his arm around me.

This is wrong.

But I don’t stop him.

Just as I don’t every Thursday.

I hate Thursdays.

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W HEN I WAKE, my bladder is bursting, and I’m in bed naked.

Oh, god.

Not again.