Page 39 of With A Little Luck
Hart gently pushing his way into hanging out was exactly what I needed. It showed me how desperate my body is for access to alpha pheromones and embarrassingly enough…semen.
Alpha and omega biology is so out of pocket, but for the first time inmonths,I actually feel well-rested.
My eyes pop open, and panic sets in for a few seconds until I remember it’s my day off.
“What’s wrong?” Hart mumbles, running his hand over my stomach. “You were relaxed and snuggly, but you went stiff.”
“I forgot it’s my day off.” I run my hand over his. “And I really need to pee, but getting up feels like a lot of work.”
He snorts. “I’m not looking forward to having to trek outside to grab my overnight bag, but my boxer briefs are done for. I used to be a big fan of going commando until I had a zipper pubic hair incident that damn near scarred me for life.”
I snort, but then realize he might need his clothes because he’s about to bolt.
“Are you supposed to be opening?” I ask, trying to keep the anxiety out of my tone.
The thought of him leaving sends an uncomfortable pang to my stomach.
My eyes ache like I might burst into tears, and I have no idea what’s causing the ridiculous overreaction. Logically, I understand he has work and other responsibilities outside of lying here, cuddled up with me, but my instincts are on edge.
He should stay here where it’s safe.
I frown.
Wow, my impulses are acting even more bizarre than usual.
“Nah,” Hartley says, leaning up and kissing my temple. “I texted Harrison a little after five and told him I wouldn’t be in today.”
“Is he upset?” My fingers tease through Hartley’s to hopefully give him a little hint of how much I appreciate him not sneaking out before I woke up this morning.
“He’s the one who told me that he’s ready to get back to work.” He shrugs. I can’t see it, but I can feel his muscles move behind me. “It’s what we were talking about yesterday in the office. He said he planned to open this morning so he could audit the schedule while it’s not busy.”
My chest gets tight.
Does that mean he’s looking to fire a few employees? Or is he going to switch around our hours to make our shifts less costly? During shift change, the morning servers usually stay an hour to overlap with the afternoon crew. They pay us a lot higher hourly wage than what I got serving in Florida, so it might actually be taxing the business. I don’t even know if that’s how they’ve always done things or if it’s something Hartley implemented.
Now I’m panicking that Harrison is going to take over and fire me. That, or cut back my hours until I have no choice but to quit.
“All right. How about I help you up?” Hart suggests. Holding his head up on his palm, he stretches around enough that he can see my face. “I know you need to pee. I’ve got to run down and grab my bag from my SUV, then we can have breakfast and some more snuggle time.”
I need to ask him what’s going on between us. Guessing could prove disastrous if I assume all the things my instincts are busy trying to convince me of.
Either way, I’m not brave enough to push for answers right this second, but I can’t let myself get any more attached to him either.
Not until I know where his head is at.
I’ve slipped and fallen into an alternate dimension. There’s no other explanation for how drastically things have changed over the last few days.
By the time I take a quick shower, dress, and make it downstairs, Hartley has changed. He’s in a pair of thin, dark gray sweats and a T-shirt. Seeing him barefoot, unloading take-out boxes on the coffee table in my living room, is surreal.
The black gauges in his ears catch the light, and his wavy blond hair falls over his forehead as he checks out what’s in each box and pours syrup over something.
The baby wiggles, and my hand flies to my stomach. She’s been moving like crazy this morning, and I can only hope it’s a good sign.
Hartley’s head tilts, and a playful smile tips his lips as he spots me. “Is the nugget hungry?” He laughs. “I’mstarving.”
Little crinkles appear around his eyes and mouth with how wide he’s smiling, and my stomach flip-flops with butterflies. For being one of the hottest men I’ve seen, he’s surprisingly down to earth and easy to be around.
“Come sit with me,” he says, standing to his full height. “I know if I’m hungry, you’ve got to be famished.” His T-shirt seems stretched to capacity over his strong chest, and I swear my brain short-circuits.
