Page 8 of With A Little Luck

Chapter Seven

Quincy

I thought it was weird that Pete started calling me. I assumed someone told him that I’m pregnant or maybe he saw me out and about around town.

He had every right to ask if the baby is his. He had no idea how pregnant I am, and I would honestly find it strange if he didn’t ask.

Still, it’s very on par with my life that he would show up to have that conversation while Hartley was present.

It’s already weird enough that Hart showed up with dinner to hang out and watch a movie, but I’m not complaining. I never realized how lonely it can be to live by yourself.

Not that I’ll be alone for that much longer.

“Aren’t you supposed to have your legs up?” Hart asks, startling me out of my thoughts. “They shouldn’t be dangling toward the floor if you want to combat swelling, right?”

“Are you volunteering to move to the uncomfortable chair?” I ask with a laugh.

“Nah, but you can rest your legs on the other side of the sofa.” He leans back against the corner of the couch, lifts his feet up onto the coffee table, and pats his chest. “You can toss a pillow on me, and I bet you’ll be way more comfortable all stretched out.”

My confusion is reaching an all-time high.

Then again, Hart is an alpha.

A delicious-smelling, pheromone-covered alpha.

If getting a little closer to said pheromones could help me and the baby, then who am I to refuse him?

Is that sneaky?

Maybe.

I also don’t care.

I’m much more comfortable with him than I would be with random alphas.

Snagging the throw pillow from behind my lower back, I toss it at Hart, who catches it with a laugh.

If this is a dream, it’s the weirdest one my brain has conjured in a while, but I think I’ll soak it up while I can.

I wake up on the couch the next morning, groggy and confused about what year it is. My ringing phone sits on the coffee table, and I snatch it up, answering and making a mad dash for the closest bathroom.

“H-Hello?”

“Good morning,” Hart says. “Sorry to call so early. I didn’t know if you had an alarm set, and I didn’t have the heart to wake you up before I left last night.”

“Thank you,” I mumble, stepping inside the hall bathroom. “I do have alarms set, but I would rather be up a few minutes early than to oversleep and be late.”

“Damn,” he whispers. “I was hoping to pop in and save the day.”

I chuckle. “Thanks, Hart, but I’ve got to go. My bladder is about to explode.”

“All right, sweetheart. I’ll see you in an hour.” He hangs up, and a shiver runs down my spine.

I don’t know where him calling me sweetheart came from, but I like it a little too much.

Dammit.

Wasn’t having access to alpha pheromones supposed to help me feel better?

I’m exhausted and rundown despite sleeping like a log last night. It’s been a long time since I slept so soundly that I haven’t woken up even once to use the bathroom. It doesn’t seem to have had any effect on my system, though.

I drop off Trigg’s plate and offer a polite smile.

Only, his Dr Pepper is empty.

“I’m sorry. Give me two seconds, and I’ll bring you a fresh drink.” I grab the empty cup and head to handle that.

It would be great if I knew why my head is foggy. I didn’t have time to grab anything for breakfast, but I had a big dinner last night with Hart. It seems weird that after finally being in close proximity to a compatible alpha that my system nosedives.

Or maybe Dr. Lindsay was right, and the symptoms will only get worse the longer I ignore my body’s needs?

I stumble over my own feet as I come to a stop next to Trigg’s table. Thankfully, I’m able to keep the drink from spilling.

I set it down on the table as my head shakes. “I am so sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.”

“You look exhausted.” His head tilts, and he scoots to the edge of the booth.

My mouth falls open as his hands land on my hips, and he gently pulls me to have a seat next to him.

“I can’t sit when I’m serving,” I say, even though it feels damn good to be off my feet.

“Yes, well, this place is a ghost town. If your boss doesn’t like it, he can come speak to me directly.” Trigg wraps an arm around the back of the booth, and it makes his scent explode in the air.

I’ve caught hints of it before, but restaurants are filled with smells. I’ve never gotten a full whiff like I am now, and my entire body yearns to soak up more of it.

A whimper escapes my lips, and the next thing I know, I’m in motion. My stomach slaps against his as I twist until my nose makes contact with his button-down shirt. If it wouldn’t be physically impossible to fit in his lap with how close the table is, I would probably have climbed onto him by now.

He smells like the weather right before a bad lightning storm. There’s some underlying base scent mixed in there, too, but all my nose seems to pick out is an electric smell that doesn’t even make sense when I try to describe it.

“Are you unsettled, angel?” His hand leaves the back of the booth and wraps around my head. “I was going to ask if you’ve eaten, but if smelling me is what you need, I’m fine with that too.”

My face burns. “Apparently the only words I know this morning are I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“I’m tempted to scoop you up so we can head to the hospital or a doctor’s office to have your blood sugar checked.

” He runs his fingers through my hair, and he stretches his thumb, resting it against my throat.

“You were wobbling around like my mother did when she was experiencing very high or very low blood sugar. Is your heart racing? Feeling any palpitations?”

“No.” I swallow thickly.

Now he’s starting to freak me out a little.

“How’s your vision?”

“It’s clear. No spots or anything,” I say, pulling back from his potent scent. “I saw my doctor yesterday. My blood sugar has been great when I’ve self-checked it, and I passed my gestational diabetes test.”

“That is good news. Your heartbeat seems to be within normal parameters,” he murmurs. “Have you had breakfast?”

I shake my head. “I planned to grab something on my break.”

“Well, as it turns out, I have a delicious breakfast spread right here, ready to go.”

My forehead wrinkles.

Trigg always orders the club.

I remember ringing the ticket into the computer system.

Turning back to the table, my jaw falls.

He’s right.

That’s the breakfast special, complete with toast, eggs, hash browns, sausage, and bacon.

How in the hell did I miss that?

“Oh God, I brought you the wrong food.” I move to slide out of the booth, but he stops me by grabbing my wrist. He uses his left hand to pull me to him while sliding his right arm behind me between my back and the booth.

“Keep your ass planted right here. You’re going to have a few bites of breakfast for me.” That wasn’t a bark, but the command in his words is clear to my system.

“I’m going to get fired,” I whisper.

His arm rests in the indent above my ass, making it less uncomfortable to stretch back as I settle against the booth. My jaw falls as he wraps his forearm around my side, and his right hand comes to rest on my stomach.

“It’s not like it can be served to anyone else now,” Trigg says firmly. “And, as far as your job goes, I can assure you, you’re not going to be fired. Now, be a good girl and open for me, angel.”

I open my mouth on command, and he gently guides a bite of eggs to my lips.

Okay, fun fact… Trigg is left-handed.

And I’m probably going to lose my only source of income because I’d do embarrassing things to hear him call me a good girl again. Including keeping my ass planted in this booth when I’m supposed to be up, doing my job.

The only saving grace is that it’s still early. Trigg is my only table, but Melanie has two groups on the opposite side of the dining room.

She doesn’t like me very much.

Or that’s the way it seems, based on how she treats me when we’re scheduled together. The food I grabbed must have belonged to one of her tables. She’s definitely going to make a stink about this.

I’m just not sure I care.

If my instincts had a choice, I’d spend the rest of the day with my nose buried in Trigg’s throat.