Page 46 of With A Little Luck
I’m still confused how Hartley Adams ended up snuggled on the couch with the woman I had the best sex of my entire life with, but I will slit his throat and leave his body to bleed out on the wooden flooring if he doesn’t move away from her in the next two seconds.
“Holy shit, Ridge?” Quincy’s voice sounds a lot more franticnowthan when she spotted Trigg in her house, which doesn’t bode well for her self-preservation skills.
If she’s more intimidated by me than she is him…
Well, that’s a bad look for me.
My gaze swings to the side, taking her in. She was stretched out on the couch as she and the former quarterback were engaged in some kind of foreplay, but she now sits vertically.
It’s a good thing.
It puts a whole cushion between her and Hartley.
Holy fuck.
Maybe I’m in shock?
I blink.
And blink some more.
But she’s still pregnant.
I never take off my glasses in public, unless it’s a situation where it would be rude to leave them on, but I rip them off, dropping them on the top of my head.
She’s super pregnant—like not a couple of months along. She has to be approaching the end of her pregnancy. I’m not the best when it comes to math, but I pull up my hand, trying to count backward from January to find out when she got knocked up.
My God.
Fucking hell.
There’s a possibility that baby is mine.
If she’s eight or nine months…
Shit, I know from my sister’s having a whole herd of kids that pregnancy is calculated in a weird way. It also goes the full forty weeks, which is technically the beginning of the tenth month. For once in my life, I’m grateful for having four pain-in-the-ass sisters.
The bottom line is, I’m not going to know if I don’t ask.
My heart stalls, and my hand flies to my chest to rub at the ache.
I’m about to have a heart attack.
My shitty eating habits have finally caught up with me.
Absolute chaos transpires around us, but I can’t form words.
The dick in his boxer briefs helps Quincy off the couch, and all I can focus on is the swell of her stomach and how different she looks since the last time I saw her.
She’s just as beautiful as she was that night, but she’s glowing now. I finally understand that saying about pregnant women looking more vibrant.
Hartley is only in boxer briefs, but Quincy is in a thin sleep dress that hides all the important bits. Hopefully that means we interrupted thembeforethe sex and not after.
“The two of you know each other?” Quincy asks, planting her hands on her hips. “Someone needs to tell me what is going on.”
I’m of a similar mindset.
We had a connection that night. A chemistry that I’ve never felt with another human being, and she got up and left like it was nothing.
