Page 3 of With A Little Luck

Chapter Two

Quincy

T here’s every chance that I owe my boss an apology. When I begged Hartley to hire me, I purposely avoided mentioning I was pregnant. It might be sneaky, but I’ve realized over the last few months that he would have hired me even if he had known.

Hartley is just a good guy.

Drop-dead gorgeous.

But a really stand-up kind of human being.

He’s gone out of his way to accommodate my doctor’s appointments, and he stopped scheduling me for closing shifts when he realized how exhausted I am by eight p.m.

Hart leans over the front counter in the restaurant as I make my way out to the floor from the break room.

“How’s the nugget?” His face breaks into a wide smile, and he nods to my stomach. That look on his face would normally be a solid distraction, but my head is still a mess from my doctor’s appointment.

I roll my lips together as my shoulders bounce.

“Everything is okay…” His brow furrows, and his head tilts. “Right? Otherwise, why the hell would you be here?”

I almost snort.

If it was something serious, I wouldn’t be, but this is technically still my shift. I left for an hour because it was the only time Dr. Lindsay could see me, and I’m back because I still have two hours left until I can clock out.

If he means in the grand scheme of things… I’m here because living requires income.

Gran left me her house when she passed away.

At first, I was shocked.

I was under the impression it would go to my mom or her brother, but neither of them showed up to care for her in her most vulnerable time, which she pointed out in the letter she left me in her will.

She did leave them some money, and a bit was left to me, but it barely covered the insurance and taxes for this year.

We were able to skip probate since she placed everything in a trust, but the executor was very honest with me about what to expect in household expenses.

Before I realized I was pregnant, I planned to go back to work full time to stock up cash for the taxes and insurance for next year. As it turns out, living expenses, the utilities, my doctor visits, and preparing for the baby take every penny I make.

I haven’t been able to save anything, and it’s another huge worry.

I’ll be able to keep the house for now, but I don’t see any way I’ll be able to afford the taxes and insurance next year. It’s a big part of the reason I’ve been looking for a roommate.

Or two.

The house is huge.

I’m just not sure who would want to live with a brand-new baby.

I would have been in much better shape if I could have found renters months ago, but Gran’s house was packed to the brim with old-people stuff.

It’s taken months of cleaning and packing on my days off and after work just to get the living room and two bedrooms free of the clutter.

Everything is all piled up in the garage, but that’s not a problem.

I’m beginning to understand that saying no good deed goes unpunished.

It feels like the family should come together to decide what to keep and what to donate, but no one seems to want anything, outside of the photo albums and jewelry they collected when they came up for the funeral. That means it falls completely on my shoulders.

If I could find a renter or two, I could use some of that money to pay movers to take away all the stuff that I plan to donate, but for the first time in my life, I understand the concept of being house poor.

God, you’re whinier than usual , I chastise myself.

Gran’s house is beautiful.

I’m lucky she passed it along to me.

It’s just a whole lot more house than I feel confident I’ll be able to take care of, especially with a newborn.

Hart tosses the dish rag over his shoulder and walks around to the end of the breakfast counter. “Quincy?” He comes closer, stopping in front of me. “Is everything okay with you and the baby?”

I have to crane my neck up to meet his eyes, and I nod, even if it comes out a wobbly mess of a nod and a shake.

“We’re okay,” I fib.

Technically, right this moment, we are fine. It’s just all the what-ifs that are a little intimidating.

Hartley’s blue eyes rake over my face, and I focus on ignoring how sexy he is with his jaw clenched. He used to play pro football—something I never would have known if I hadn’t overheard him talking about it with some of the regulars.

I’m not big into sports, but if I knew football players looked like him, I might have paid a little more attention to the sport.

Hart’s hair is long on top, showing off his mess of blond waves that always seem to fall perfectly over his forehead. The sides of his head are shorter and the same length as his thick blondish-brown beard. I’m sure there’s a name for the style, I just don’t know what it is.

But God, does it work well for him.

He has black gauges in his ears and dark tattoos that weave down his neck, over his chest, and disappear into the neckline of his long-sleeve T-shirt. Even more cover his forearms when he pushes up his sleeves like he has them now.

He’s gorgeous, and I’m well on my way to being as big as a house…

Hell, even before I was pregnant, I never would have had a chance with a guy like him.

He might be helping out his family by running the restaurant while his brother is away, but eventually, Harrison will take back over, and Hartley will head back to wherever he normally lives.

When I first got hired, I thought Hart ran the place on his own, but I heard from the other servers that Harrison asked for some help managing the business after his omega gave birth to twins right before I was hired.

While Harrison and his packmates come in from time to time, they’ve left almost all the day-to-day operations up to Hartley.

“You already worked this morning,” Hart says, patting my arm. “Why don’t you head home? Take the rest of the day off. You look beat.”

“No way.” My head shakes before I can even think through his question. “I’m good. I want to be here.”

More than that, I need the money.

Being stuck in the house would probably drive me crazy as I sat around, worrying and feeling guilty. It’s much better to stay mentally busy.

“I just sat one in your section,” Sutton says as she heads back to the hostess stand. “It’s your regular.”

“Again?” Hart spins around, studying the area where he knows my tables are.

I almost laugh. That is the implication of a regular customer .

“That guy is in here every day you’re scheduled, but he magically doesn’t come in on your days off.

It’s not normal, considering your hours and days change regularly. ”

“Shh. He might hear you. It’s not very busy.” I frown, glancing over at his table. “He’s very sweet. Not creepy. Don’t make it weird.”

And I’m not just defending him because he tips really well.

My regular is always polite and friendly. He’s never given me a weird vibe. Not even once.

Hartley sighs. “Just be careful. Let me know if you need me. I’ll be happy to kick him out.”

Maybe the boredom is finally catching up with him. It seems like he’s desperate for any action.

I laugh, shaking my head. “Thanks, boss.”