Page 40 of With A Little Luck
He must get tired of waiting for me to comply because he strides over, grabs my hand, and pulls me toward the couch.
Once we reach the edge of the sofa, he spins around and plants his hands on my hips. “Mmm, you smell nice. Did you have a good shower?”
My heart thumps erratically, and I nod. “Yeah.”
“Good.” His head dips, and he barely teases his lips over mine. “I was kinda hoping you’d spend the day smelling like me.” He chuckles and guides me to sit on the couch. “This just means I get the joy of covering you in my scent all over again.”
I blink, trying to decide if I missed an important conversation somewhere. A huge part of me wants to roll with whatever is happening between us, while another piece is just confused.
“I like you,” I blurt out before I can think it through. “A lot. I like you a lot, Hart, but I’m so confused.”
“I’ll bet you are.” He snorts, grabbing one of the Styrofoam containers and taking the seat directly next to me. “Sorry, sweetheart. I really suck at this whole relationship thing. In my defense, I haven’t asked someone to be my girlfriend since high school.”
“Girlfriend?” I hear myself whisper as he opens the box of food.
“Yeah.” He plucks out a piece of bacon and offers it to me. “I mean, that word feels a little silly when you’re pregnant?—”
“The baby isn’t yours,” I say, and my face burns.
He knows the baby isn’t his.
It’s a known fact, so I have no idea why I said that.
I think Hartley’s hotness factor actually makes me less intelligent, like all my brain cells melt away when he’s close by.
“Take a bite,” he murmurs, shoving the bacon against my lips. It smells delicious, and I open, doing exactly as he commanded. “See, here’s the thing, and I’ve thought about this in detail.” He stretches out a long arm, grabbing a to-go cup and offering it to me. I move to grab it, but his head shakes. “Nuh-uh. Let me. Feeding my mom breakfast is one of the things my dads fight over to this day. And I get why. My instincts love seeing you eat from my hand, and apparently, that extends to holding your drink too.”
His blue eyes sparkle, and he wiggles the cup.
Everything in me wants to please him, and it’s such an easy concession to make. I’m used to being pretty independent, but I’ve never been the type to cut off my own nose just to spite my face.
Not to mention, my instincts seem to think it’s the most romantic thing in the world that he wants to feed me by hand. Leaning forward, I wrap my lips around the straw and take a long swig.
The Coke tastes minty, since I brushed my teeth after my shower, but I love the fizz when the carbonation hits my tongue.
“Thank you,” I say, pulling back.
“What was I saying?” Hart takes a quick drink and puts it down on the coffee table before grabbing a packet of plastic silverware. “Oh yeah, I’ve thought about it a lot, and it doesn’t really matter that the nugget isn’t mine.”
My pulse picks up so loud that I can hear it in my ears.
I love that he has a special nickname for the baby. It came from him picking on me about eating so many chicken nuggets during my first trimester. I really did eat a lot of them. It was one of the few foods that if eaten at the right time of day, I didn’t get sick. I had killer cravings for ranch dressing, and sometimes fries just didn’t cut it.
“Sasha has four alphas in her pack,” he says, referencing his brother’s omega. “But only one of them fertilized the egg. Harrison might have hit the DNA jackpot, or he might not, but let anyone try to tell him the twins aren’t his…” He’s been working on cutting up a biscuit topped with spicy-smelling sausage gravy. He offers me a bite, cupping his hand and holding it under the fork to avoid any spills. “That’s just part of being an alpha. We grow up knowing there’s a good chance we’ll end up raising children that aren’t biologically our own, but honestly, biology isn’t what makes a family. I love all my dads the same.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “I grew up in a pack too. I guess it just feels different? I don’t know how to explain it.”
“Ahh, I see.” Hart nods, offering me a bite of eggs. “I used the wrong word. I shouldn’t have asked you to be my girlfriend.” I take the bite, and he grabs the drink, offering it so I wash down the eggs. “I want to court you, Quincy.”
It’s a good thing that he offered me that drink…
I sputter and choke.
Chapter Thirteen
Quincy
My eyes feel huge as I study Hartley’s handsome face. He does love to joke a lot, but he looks deathly serious at the moment.
