Page 33 of With A Little Luck

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Quincy

T he nest in the pack bedroom is incredible. When Ridge showed it to me, I almost shed a few tears. Which is solid confirmation that my hormones are completely unhinged.

I spend the day setting it up and trying to get everything just right.

I’m usually not too fussy about the aesthetics of a place I intend to nest. I used my walk-in closet when I was a teenager, and it was more than enough space.

As an adult, I’ve never had an apartment that came outfitted with a nest, so I mostly made myself a bird’s nest contraption on top of my mattress.

It’s complicated.

The pack nest is spacious, with two separate areas.

One is a cushioned bay window that looks out over the backyard.

Gauzy curtains can be pulled to close the space in, but you’re still in front of a giant window.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if I had an alpha or two to cuddle up with, but it’s too open at the moment to set my emotions at ease.

The main area of the nest is cozier.

It has three steps to get up to the walled-off area.

The front has a huge curtain that can be pulled to close in the fourth wall.

Most of the space is taken up by a bed that has to be bigger than a king.

It has carpeted walkways around the bottom and both sides, and up by the head of the bed are two floor-to-ceiling cabinets.

They have little end tables at bed height, but they’re all one piece.

I was pleasantly surprised to learn the cabinets were stocked with other necessities, like brand-new pillows and blankets.

I’m not tall enough to check, but I think the top shelves even have replacement curtains and drapes.

They’re opposite colors from the ones already in use, but I’m fine with the charcoal gray and salmon pink that are currently hanging around the room.

I’ve covered the nest mattress with so many different blankets that it gained an additional inch or two in height. Each piece has a different feel against my skin, and I buried the materials I like least at the bottom of the pile.

King-size pillows line the top of the mattress with throw pillows tossed in front to make it look a little fancier. In reality, I’ve done about all I can do, but it was a solid distraction.

If the pillows and blankets were saturated in the guys’ scents, it would probably be harder to force myself out of the room, but they’re not.

I can fix that, though.

I head out of the nest, through the pack bedroom, and go searching.

Ridge and Hartley seem to be getting along. They’ve mostly left me to my own devices, except when I popped in to ask them if they wanted any lunch. They came down, and Ridge made us sandwiches, but it has to be almost dinnertime.

The nursery door is open, and one of them has music playing on their phone. They talk in low voices about something, and my eyes widen as I peek around the corner. They’ve done so much, it’s almost hard to comprehend, but I don’t want to ruin the big reveal.

Closing my eyes, I step aside and lean against the wall. They’ve spent the better part of the day together, and neither of them is sporting any bruises.

God, I hope that’s a good sign.

Laughter fills the air, and I bite my lip. If they can make jokes, I’m hopeful that imagining a future with all three of them isn’t delusional.

I make it downstairs and run into Knox in the kitchen. I didn’t even realize he and Trigg were back. Only, Knox has a bag tossed over each shoulder.

“Hey, don’t eat,” he says, flashing a smile. “There’s takeout in my SUV. Trigg will bring it in.”

“Oh, I can come help if there’s a lot to carry in.” I let go of the refrigerator door handle and turn toward the garage.

“Nah, it’s cold as hell.” Knox backs away. “Seriously, don’t worry. Trigg can handle it.”

I frown.

That was weird, but okay.

I hoist myself up onto one of the uncomfortable barstools and wait. All three of them have fed me lately. I figured the least I could do would be to make dinner. It was a bit of a gamble, considering I had no idea what—if anything—Ridge had that could be cooked quickly.

Not even five minutes later, Trigg comes in. He’s damn sexy in his suit coat and that vest thingy guys wear under it. I’m so distracted by checking him out that I fail to hop up to help him tote the bags until he’s already close to the kitchen island.

“You didn’t have to get up,” he says in a low, playful rumble that sends a shiver down my spine.

“I don’t mind.” I smile and make my way around the counter to get closer to him. “I was going to help carry it in, but Knox assured me you had it. He had his bags… Is he leaving?”

“He is.” Trigg puts the bags down and grabs something black out of one of them.

He drops it on the counter and moves the bags to block my view of it.

“We’ve decided, because of our proximity to the restaurant, and just to be on the safe side, Knox will be staying with Sutton to keep an eye on her.

Easton will bring in another team to help out, but she seems at ease with Knox.

They spent several hours this afternoon flirting. ”

“You were at the restaurant?” I ask, frowning.

It’s the most ridiculous of all overreactions, but I hate the idea of anyone else serving him.

Trigg chuckles. “For the record, my sandwich didn’t taste anywhere close to as delicious as it does when you serve it.” He snakes an arm around my lower back, pulling me close to his front. “Did you have a good day, angel? I missed you terribly.”

“I missed you too,” I admit, burying my face in his vest.

“Are you hungry?” he asks, running his hand down my spine. “I’m afraid I should shower before I can feed you. It’s been a long day.”

There’s a strange smell that clings to his clothing, but mentioning it seemed rude. Everything in me wants to ask if he was able to handle the problem of whoever is after Ridge.

Only, I’m not sure I really want to know that kind of thing. I’ve always been a smidgen on the nosy side, but I firmly believe there are things I don’t need to know…

One of those is if he killed a bunch of people today or broke any laws. It would only make me worry.

“I can wait until after you have a chance to clean up. I’m not starving or anything.” My nostrils flare, breathing in his electric scent mixed with whatever that other smell is. His pheromones hit me just as hard as they always do, making me feel floaty and a little disconnected from reality.

“Perfect, I’ll take a quick shower and meet you back down here. How does that sound?” he asks.

“Or I could come up with you, and we could take a shower together.” The words slip out before I can stop myself, and my teeth dig into my lower lip.

Trigg’s head tilts. “You’d like to join me in the shower?”

I nod.

“Well, then, let’s go.”

My eyelids flutter as Trigg helps me out of my dress in the bathroom attached to his bedroom. If I had been thinking clearly, I would have run into the pack bedroom to grab something to wear after our shower.

His warm skin teases mine as he reaches around to help with my bra. I should have pushed for him to get me out of my leggings and underwear first, since they would have been hidden. There really aren’t cute maternity underwear, at least none that are functional.

He fumbles with my bra, and I smile, focusing on the three buttons on his vest. With his arms wrapped around me, his scent is everywhere, which only makes thinking clearly even harder.

He made sure to strip out of his jacket and shoes in the bedroom while I got the shower running, and something tells me he was trying to keep me from seeing an arsenal of weapons.

Trigg grins as he finally manages the hooks on my bra. “That was more complicated than I expected.”

I laugh and revel in my own victory of getting his vest unbuttoned. My bra straps fall down my arms, and I step back to shake out of it. Trigg removed his glasses when he took off his coat, and he looks different without them. He’s always handsome. It just makes his dark eyes even more intense.

His pointy canines dig into his lip as I toss my bra into the laundry hamper. I’m going to have to stop by my house sometime soon to gather more clothes and supplies.

Trigg keeps his eyes on mine while working the buttons on his shirt, but I don’t have the self-control that he possesses. My eyes greedily skim down his chest with each popped button.

To keep myself busy, I thumb the top of my leggings and underwear, pushing them down in one quick go.

I’ve gotten very good at using my toes for picking things up, since my center of gravity is off, but it takes three tries to pick up the pile of clothing, and I nearly tumble over as I bend to grab it from my toes.

Trigg growls, grabbing my hips and pulling me into his chest. “Careful, angel.” My nipples brush his strong chest as he reaches one long arm down to pluck the clothing from my hold.

He tosses it into the laundry basket, and all I can seem to focus on is his warm skin against mine and how heavy his stormy scent is in the air.

He shrugs out of his button-down and vest. So many well-defined lines of muscle.

He has wings and the words King of Hearts across his chest and sleeves that twine down both arms, but there are no tattoos on his stomach or sides.

Although, he does have several white inch-long scars littering his abdomen.

“Trigg…” I gasp, brushing my fingers over the one a few inches under his heart. “What happened here?”

“My mentor taught me a lesson.” He shrugs and loops his arms under mine to work his belt and eventually the button and zipper on his dress pants.

“I missed the heart exactly one time. It was a very effective exercise. Well, that and the ridiculous nickname that he forced on me because of my failure.”

My eyes widen, and I choke out, “What?”

“Would you prefer I lie to you in the future to offset any distress that an honest answer may produce?” He pushes on the top of his boxer briefs, and they slide down his legs with his pants.

“No,” I say, desperately trying to keep my eyes on his.

It doesn’t work.

Trigg is tall and lean, with sculpted muscles. I follow his dark happy trail down to a small tuft of clipped pubic hair, and my face heats. I’m not sure how long it’s been since I’ve seen my vagina without a mirror, but it’s been a while…

Like over a month.

Maybe two.

Each of his abs and obliques flex as he moves to dispose of his last bit of laundry in the basket. He stands to his full height, towering over me.

His hands land on my hips again, and he brushes his thumbs over my stomach. “Ready to clean up?”

It’s warm in here with the heat of the shower radiating around the room as steam fills the air. Still, I’m not sure why I’m sweating…