Page 95 of With A Little Luck
I don’t want to cause permanent damage to my body, and an elevated pulse can be a sign of distress.
Putting down the sandwich, she grabs my bottle of water and leans closer, tipping it to my lips. It’s quite cute, and something flutters in my stomach.
Christ.
Maybe I need a full-blown checkup.
I’ve never given much thought to when I might die. When it’s my time, it’s my time.
I no longer find that thought palatable.
I need to be around for many years to come to spend each one of them by Quincy’s side.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Trigg
After dinner, Ridge lets the mutt out, and he and Hartley go back to the nursery to finish up whatever project was left to complete.
Quincy leans close to my side as we head upstairs. There’s a clear disconnect between where I think we’re headed—my room—and where she leads me to—the pack bedroom.
I intended to give her the necklace tonight. I got the ring to have on hand for the perfect moment, but even I know there needs to be some hype or special circumstances planned for when I give it to her.
Or ask.
That’s right.
She hasn’t said yes…yet.
She will.
I just have to be patient and plan the perfect proposal. And remember toasknottellher we’re getting married. Perhaps I should write out my speech; that way, I won’t forget what I’m supposed to say.
“May I ask where we’re headed?”
Quincy laughs. “I spent all day setting up the nest. I’m itching to show it to someone.”
“I’m honored to be the first.”
“I’m going to need you to set your dirty laundry aside, at least the stuff you won’t miss from your wardrobe.” She smiles up at me, trusting me to guide her to the nest, even though, to her knowledge, I’ve never been inside. “The last thing left is to help it smell right.”
We make the turn into the nest, and it’s immediately apparent how much work she put into it.
“You’ve been a busy little omega. Haven’t you?”
“Yeah, I couldn’t reach to swap out the drapery or the gauzy hanging curtains, but the colors are fine.”
“If you’d like to change them, I’m happy to help,” I assure her.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she says. “But for now, these work.”
We make it to the steps, and the entire area smells heavily of Quincy.
My canines pulse, and my head gets foggy, which is not a great sign.
I’m an unbonded alpha.
I could slip into rut and hurt her or the baby… It’s the last thing I’d ever want, but biology is not on the side of lucidity. Nature instinctually wants a bond created between Quincy and me, and it will play dirty if necessary to get its desired outcome.
