Page 8 of With A Little Luck
The house is huge.
I’m just not sure who would want to live with a brand-new baby. I would have been in much better shape if I could have found renters months ago, but Gran’s house was packed to the brim with old-people stuff. It’s taken months of cleaning and packing on my days off and after work just to get the living roomand two bedrooms free of the clutter. Everything is all piled up in the garage, but that’s not a problem.
I’m beginning to understand that sayingno good deed goes unpunished.
It feels like the family should come together to decide what to keep and what to donate, but no one seems to want anything, outside of the photo albums and jewelry they collected when they came up for the funeral. That means it falls completely on my shoulders.
If I could find a renter or two, I could use some of that money to pay movers to take away all the stuff that I plan to donate, but for the first time in my life, I understand the concept of beinghouse poor.
God, you’rewhinier than usual, I chastise myself.
Gran’s house is beautiful.
I’m lucky she passed it along to me.
It’s just a whole lot more house than I feel confident I’ll be able to take care of, especially with a newborn.
Hart tosses the dish rag over his shoulder and walks around to the end of the breakfast counter. “Quincy?” He comes closer, stopping in front of me. “Is everything okay with you and the baby?”
I have to crane my neck up to meet his eyes, and I nod, even if it comes out a wobbly mess of a nod and a shake.
“We’re okay,” I fib.
Technically, right this moment, we are fine. It’s just all the what-ifs that are a little intimidating.
Hartley’s blue eyes rake over my face, and I focus on ignoring how sexy he is with his jaw clenched. He used to play pro football—something I never would have known if I hadn’t overheard him talking about it with some of the regulars.
I’m not big into sports, but if I knew football players looked like him, I might have paid a little more attention to the sport.
Hart’s hair is long on top, showing off his mess of blond waves that always seem to fall perfectly over his forehead. The sides of his head are shorter and the same length as his thick blondish-brown beard. I’m sure there’s a name for the style, I just don’t know what it is.
But God, does it work well for him.
He has black gauges in his ears and dark tattoos that weave down his neck, over his chest, and disappear into the neckline of his long-sleeve T-shirt. Even more cover his forearms when he pushes up his sleeves like he has them now.
He’s gorgeous, and I’m well on my way to being as big as a house…
Hell, even before I was pregnant, I never would have had a chance with a guy like him.
He might be helping out his family by running the restaurant while his brother is away, but eventually, Harrison will take back over, and Hartley will head back to wherever he normally lives.
When I first got hired, I thought Hart ran the place on his own, but I heard from the other servers that Harrison asked for some help managing the business after his omega gave birth to twins right before I was hired.
While Harrison and his packmates come in from time to time, they’ve left almost all the day-to-day operations up to Hartley.
“You already worked this morning,” Hart says, patting my arm. “Why don’t you head home? Take the rest of the day off. You look beat.”
“No way.” My head shakes before I can even think through his question. “I’m good. I want to be here.”
More than that, I need the money.
Being stuck in the house would probably drive me crazy as I sat around, worrying and feeling guilty. It’s much better to stay mentally busy.
“I just sat one in your section,” Sutton says as she heads back to the hostess stand. “It’s your regular.”
“Again?” Hart spins around, studying the area where he knows my tables are. I almost laugh. That is the implication of aregular customer. “That guy is in here every day you’re scheduled, but he magically doesn’t come in on your days off. It’s not normal, considering your hours and days change regularly.”
“Shh. He might hear you. It’s not very busy.” I frown, glancing over at his table. “He’s very sweet. Not creepy. Don’t make it weird.”
