Page 7 of With A Little Luck

Chapter Six

Hartley

M y afternoon passes by falling down a rabbit hole of pregnancy.

I’m supposed to be out on the floor, monitoring everything and helping the bartenders once the evening crew comes in.

Instead, I spend it glued to the office computer, studying facts about omegas, childbirth, and even what comes after.

Quincy was lying her ass off when she said everything was fine. It’s not even remotely close to okay, and I’m on the verge of losing my shit. That pamphlet for one of the omega sanctuaries specifically had a section on matching with volunteer alphas for a safe and healthy pregnancy.

My deep dive into the depths of the internet proves how dangerous it can be for both mom and baby if the omega doesn’t have contact with alphas during her pregnancy. Which sends me into a spiral of how I’m supposed to offer up my pheromones when Quincy is already so damn skittish.

Snagging my cell phone off the desk, I pull up my brother and wait for the call to connect.

“What’s up?” Harrison asks over the fussy baby wailing in the background.

I sigh.

There’s basically no way I don’t sound like a lunatic right now. “I, uh, need a favor.”

“And what’s that?” he asks. “Shh, I know. We just gotta get the burps out.”

I roll my eyes.

That man used to be right next to me through all-night ragers, and now…

Christ, how times change.

“I need you to kick me out…” I’ve been living with Harrison and his pack since I came to Burlington. Technically it’s our childhood home, which we both inherited when our parents moved to Georgia, but I gifted him my half years ago when I landed my first big contract to play pro football.

“Are you drunk?” Harrison asks, sounding suspicious.

Jesus Christ.

I’m never going to hear the end of this. “No, listen. It’s important…”

He owes me this, anyway.

When I first found out about Quincy’s pregnancy, I asked Harrison to lend me his omega so I could take those classes people take when they’re preparing for a baby.

Sasha, his omega, was down.

She thought it was sweet that someone finally caught my eye, but my stingy-ass brother refused.

He can kick me out.

It’s really the least he can do, now that I think about it.

Does it count as harassment to show up at an employee’s house unannounced after the sun has set?

Fuck me.

It probably does.

I brought dinner under the assumption that she actually lets me in. Maybe a little to woo her with mozzarella sticks, burgers, and everything else I could fit into two bags without it being weird. It makes it complicated to knock on the front door, but hopefully the bags hold.

My boot taps against the concrete as I wait.

Shit.

What if she was so exhausted that she came home to take a nap, and I’m about to wake her up? I know she doesn’t get much sleep these days.

I peek through the thin windows that run vertically next to the door. They’re barely six inches wide, but I should buy her some curtains. Anyone who stands here can see right down the entry hallway.

I’m probably being a pushy dick.

No, there’s no probably about it.

I’m three seconds away from being reported as a stalker.

My heartbeat picks up to unnatural levels when Quincy comes around the corner into view. Jumping back from the window, I focus on looking normal as the bags slam against my knees.

Quincy peeks out the window and frowns.

The door pops open three inches a second later. “Hart?”

“Hey, so, I brought dinner.” I lift the bags, giving them a solid shake. Hopefully the smell wafts to her nose, and she actually lets me in.

“Okay.” She frowns, stepping back and opening the door. “Come in. I’m so confused. Sorry, I just woke up from a nap.”

“I can tell.” I chuckle. “You’re all rumpled and sleepy looking, but in the cutest way possible.”

Goddammit, I’m doomed.

That slipped right out.

I’m going to end up on a creepy boss watch list somewhere.

“It’s clear you’ve been tired lately,” I say, stepping inside the doorway. “I thought maybe I could catch you before you started dinner.”

Quincy smiles, but even that can’t cover how tired she looks. “Oh, yeah. I knocked right out after work. I haven’t even thought about dinner yet. Thank you. That was very thoughtful.”

I grin, winking. “Can I sweet-talk you into letting me stay so we can eat together? I’m starving.”

She must have changed into her pajamas when she got home from work.

The spaghetti-strap, sleep-dress thing stretches over her stomach like it might burst if she moves wrong.

She’s wearing thin pajama pants under it, but I’m betting that dress was long enough to wear on its own before the belly stretched it out, taking several inches from its overall length.

She pushes the door closed and nods. “A little company sounds great.”

Quincy is far too polite to press for more clarification on why I popped in with dinner.

I’m confused too.

I’ve never been so drawn to anyone.

Let alone a super-pregnant chick.

We sit on the couch, eating and watching a movie in companionable silence.

I stick close enough to her side that she’s hopefully getting a full blast of my pheromones, but from the little research I did… There’s more to it than simply having access to alpha pheromones. The thought of what else Quincy needs is so inappropriate that it sends a pulse straight to my knot.

I choke on the bite of fries I’m trying to swallow and grab my soda from the coffee table.

“Are you okay?” she asks, tilting her head to study my face.

“All good.” I paste on a playful smile. “How about you? You went after that marinara sauce with a vengeance.”

Seriously, she wasn’t above scooping the last of it out with a few fries she stole from my box once the mozzarella sticks were no more.

It was kinda sexy.

I almost thought she might lick the container, and just like the creep I am, I wouldn’t have been able to tear my eyes away.

She laughs. “Yeah, I’ve been craving spaghetti with meat sauce for the last week or so. It’s so weird. I don’t normally even like tomatoes.”

“The nugget must be responsible for that craving then,” I say, bumping my shoulder against hers.

“Maybe,” she says around a yawn. “Be right back. I need the restroom.”

She struggles to get up, and I grab her take-out container, drop it onto the coffee table, and push to my feet.

Once I’m standing, I offer her my hands.

“Thanks.”

I pull her up and step out of the way to avoid jostling the baby bump. The urge to run my hand over her stomach is strong, but it’s also inappropriate as fuck.

When did I become such a pushy bastard?

I stay standing during Quincy’s trip to the bathroom, meandering around the room and checking out the decor. She inherited the place from her grandmother, and it’s obvious she hasn’t had time to put her own spin on it.

The sound of her shuffling back into the room fills the air, and I wonder if it’s time I see myself out.

It’ll be better if I offer to leave before she starts politely dropping hints that it’s time for me to go, but everything in me wants to stick around and spend a little more time together.

I just don’t know how to break the ice to let her know I’m here and willing to help out with the whole pheromone thing.

The doorbell echoes around the room, and Quincy jolts.

“I haven’t had a visitor since I’ve been here.” She laughs. “Two in one night, what are the odds? Give me just a second.”

I frown as she spins around and exits the room, heading to answer the door. Maybe I’m paranoid, but I don’t like it. It’s almost nine, and she’s not expecting anyone.

An unbonded omega should never just answer the door when they have no idea who could be on the other side.

I ignore the fact I’m a hypocrite for showing up in the same way as whoever won’t stop ringing the doorbell.

If it’s her regular who keeps popping into the restaurant, I might lose my shit.

He’s just as into Quincy as I am.

I can tell by the way he watches her.

How he leans in close when she speaks.

The shitty little smile that tips his lips when he looks at her.

“Pete? What are you doing here?” Quincy asks, sounding surprised.

“Holy shit,” the man who must be Pete says. “You’re pregnant?”

“Obviously.” She snorts.

“Is it mine?” he growls.

My hackles rise at the sound. He’s not just an ex. He’s an alpha. That immediately makes him more of a threat. Alphas are almost always physically larger than either of the other designations.

“Of course she’s not yours.” Quincy huffs. “Otherwise, I would have told you like eight months ago.”

“How do I know you’re not lying because you’re pissed at me?”

“Oh, for cheating on me while my grandma was dying ?” She laughs mirthlessly. “I’d have every reason to hate you, but I would never lie about something so important.”

“I want a paternity test,” he growls.

“The doctor has already confirmed that it’s impossible the baby is yours, based on the last time we were together,” she says with a wobble to her tone that has me stomping across the living room.

“If it was only a week or two, maybe there would have been a question about paternity, but there’s no way the ultrasound could be off by six weeks.

You could also do the math based on the last time we were together.

If the baby was yours, I would be almost forty weeks pregnant—meaning she would be about to pop out any day. The math doesn’t match up.”

“You still should have told me,” he hisses. “You’ve had months to think up lies to cover your tracks.”

I come around the corner with my jaw clenched so tightly, I’m afraid I might chip a tooth. Sliding up behind Quincy, I plant my right hand on her hip while my left teases around to cradle her belly. She jumps but lets me pull her back to my chest once she realizes it’s me.

“Hey, man.” I wave with the hand on her hip, but I focus on the omega. “We need to have a talk about you answering the door to strangers, especially after dark.”

“I’m far from a stranger,” the dick says, scoffing.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re a stranger to me.

” I shrug, keeping my face over Quincy’s shoulder as I stay curled around her back.

“I’m sure you understand. We’ve got a baby in the mix now.

” I tease my palm over her swollen stomach and smirk at the asshole who wants me to remove his head from his shoulders.

He must if he was talking to her like that.

I’m sure he’s not brave enough to do it with an audience, and that pisses me off even more for some reason.

It blows me away a little that this is the ex who cheated on her. I’d be willing to bet my left testicle that he can’t last more than three minutes in the sack. Seriously, she was swinging down majorly .

Quincy is beautiful in that girl-next-door way. It’s all the shy smiles and how she looks at you from under her lashes. It sneaks up on you, but once you see it, you can’t miss it.

She’s stunning.

This guy is slimy.

Thank God he showed her his true colors when he did. Her life would have been ruined if she ended up bonded to a guy like him.

I’ve seen it all…

Guys who don’t want to be single, but they can’t keep it in their pants. It was bad when I played college ball, but it was even worse in the pros.

There were willing women everywhere, but I never wanted the complication of breaking anyone’s heart. Back then, the only thing I gave a shit about was being signed to a contract. It might be selfish, but I knew what I wanted, and I didn’t let anything get in the way of that.

For all the good it did you , some dark part of my brain taunts.

“Who are you?” Pete grinds out.

Pulling my hand off Quincy’s hip, I extend it, smirking. “Hartley Adams.”

It takes several slow blinks for him to recognize the name. His hand rises, and we shake, even though it’s the last thing I want to do.

I’ve been retired for two years. Fine, technically speaking, I barely finished out my contract and was medically advised not to risk another season. I still met my goals for my career, and I was actually relieved to take a step back and live a simpler life.

The first year was insane.

I had to keep security with me at all times, but I let them go six months ago once the press finally died down after the world realized I wasn’t stepping back on the field.

Could I have done the additional surgeries the team doctors were pushing?

Yeah, but there was no guarantee it would have put my shoulder back to where I needed to be, and the risks didn’t outweigh the benefits.

At least, not in my humble opinion. Not that my coaches, the team owners, the press, or the American public agreed.

“Anyway, Pete. Great to meet you,” I lie. “If you need to pop back in, don’t do it in the middle of the night. Quincy needs her rest.”

Fuck me.

It’s not even ten p.m.

What am I?

Eighty?

The next thing I know, I’ll be doing the Sunday crossword puzzle and yelling at kids to get off my lawn.

“I’ve been calling you,” the idiot says, completely ignoring me as he stares down at Quincy.

“My boss has put in offers on three other homes on this street. We’d like to set up an appointment to go over the generous compensation package we’re offering.

” He reaches into his suit coat pocket, pulling out a card.

“They’re playing ball. You should too. This entire area is slated for demolition. A developer wants to put in condos.”

Quincy makes some strangled sound in the back of her throat as he shakes the card at her.

“Thanks again for stopping by.” I snatch it from his outstretched fingers. “It’s time for you to go.”

“I’m just saying…” the dick says over his shoulder as he turns toward the door. “Your boyfriend clearly has money. Why would you want to keep this dump?”

He opens the door and leaves, allowing it to close loudly behind him.

“Well, that was fun.” Quincy spins in my hold but doesn’t step back, and the baby belly brushes against my lower abdomen as she moves to face me. “I’m sorry that he assumed the baby?—”

“Who gives a fuck what he thinks?” I shrug, planting my hands on her hips. “I don’t.” Tilting my head down toward hers, I grin. “But seriously, that guy? How desperate were you?”

Her cheeks turn pink, and she glances away. “I missed a lot of things because I was preoccupied with my grandmother, but I thought he liked me.”

“You’re like a million times out of his league.” I push the card into my pocket and pull a hand up, bringing it to her cheek. “Are you okay?”

She nods, chewing on her bottom lip.

It takes everything in me not to tug the thing free and shove my mouth to hers. Her sweet coconut and cream scent is everywhere, and everything in me aches to soothe her.

“Want to finish the movie, or should I head out?” I ask, studying her bright blue eyes.

She shrugs and glances over her shoulder at the door. “You can stay. I kinda don’t want to be alone.”

“Movie, it is.” I step around her and stretch to lock the door. “Come on, the couch is calling our names.”