Page 23 of With A Little Luck
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 areI’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.
Triggalwaysorders the club.
I remember ringing the ticket into the computer system.
Turning back to the table, my jaw falls.
He’s right.
