“Yes. Your job isn’t a safe one, and it’s not responsible for you to be continuing on with your regular cop duties. And it’s not responsible of me to let you.”
She narrowed her gaze. “Letme?”
He nodded with another grunt.
“I’llletwork know when I’m good and ready. I haven’t even been a rookie six months. Light duty would set me back.”
My job is everything to me.
She had to prove to her family, to everyone back home that she wasn’t the screwup they thought she was.
“Plus,” she continued, “I’m fine. I’m not showing yet, and it’s not like I’m a New York beat cop chasing down bad guys on a daily basis or engaging in shootouts. Some days it’s nothing more than highway patrol.”
He snorted, and she couldn’t stop herself from snorting too. Her shitty highway patrol shift and her reaction to it had been what landed them in their current predicament. Oh yeah, highway patrol shifts were the bomb diggity.
“And we both know how much youlovehighway patrol,” he jeered.
She glanced out the window. “Yes,quite.”
“You need to tell work,” he insisted again, taking a left into the restaurant parking lot.
She grumbled at him, swiveling in her seat to show him her best irritated glare. “Just give me some time, okay?”
He seemed neither convinced by her plea nor fazed by her temper. Instead, he fixed her with a look of his own, one far more deadly than the one Krista had been attempting. “You have one week.” Then he shut off the engine, opened his door, hopped out and ended the conversation.
“You need to move in with me,” Brock said before biting into his bison burger a short while later. Since he’dorderedher to disclose her pregnancy at work, they hadn’t said a word to each other while sitting in the restaurant waiting for their lunch. It’d been awkward as hell, but Krista wasn’t about to break the silence when the man was clearly comfortable with it and she was pissed off at him. He simply sat there in his seat, looking larger than life and attracting stares and ogles from all the little snappily dressed waitresses.
“So you’ve said,” Krista retorted dryly. “You’re definitely not shy with youropinions.” She hadn’t wanted anything besides french fries, so she’d asked for a double order of poutine and was currently in cheesy, gravy, potato heaven. “And I believe I’ve declined the offer. I’m happy where I live.”
He shook his head and used his big hand to grab the napkin off the table and wipe his mouth. “My opinions aren’t wrong. And now that we’ve seen the baby … ” he trailed off.
She lifted one shoulder dismissively. “How does that change anything?”
“It just does,” he snapped. “It’s real. It’s in there. My kid. And I want to be part of every moment. Before he’s here and after. Plus, I saw your fridge. It’s fucking empty. My kid needs food. And not just french fries.”
“It’s my kid, too,” she said, a lot of her fight dissolving. “And I told you I’m going shopping.”
Goddamn it. This he-man alpha protector thing was turning her on.
“We’regoing shopping.”
“God, you’re a pushy asshole,” she said, taking a sip of her water.
“Yep. But responsible. And I’m responsible for that little monkey in your belly. So you’ll move in with me so I can take care of both of you properly.”
She exhaled. “I can take care of both of us just fine.”
“And leave me out of it?”
“No. I said you’re welcome to be a part of the baby’s life as much as you like.”
“And I’d like it to be 24-7. Plus, youreallyshouldn’t be changing the cat litter, and I’m not coming over to do it every day.” He chugged his iced tea in two swallows. “And we get a fair bit of snow out where we are. Road is narrow and windy out toward your place too. My place is safer.”
Jesus, the man was relentless. But despite being an alpha jackass, the more he spoke, the harder a time she was having not agreeing with him—aboutsomethings. The first trimester so far had been really hard. Harder than she expected. And even though she usually just wanted french fries, some nights she was craving home-cooked food like a stir-fry or her mum’s meatloaf. Only she didn’t have the groceries or energy to make it and instead just ate more fries or roastedred pepper soup.
Eyeing his sexiness over the rim of her water glass, she took another sip. She’d been denying it all day, but being around Brock, having him take care of her, touch her hand, the small of her back, it’d been nice. Albeit also frustrating because he was a pushy fucker, but it’d been nice. And he certainly wasn’t hard to look at. Or smell. Would moving in with him mean they could have sex again? Would she ever have sex again? She’d been as randy as a bitch in heat these past few weeks—when she wasn’t nauseous that is—and her poor vibrator was on its third set of batteries since the test had been confirmed positive. Chewing on an ice cube and blearily remembering his head bobbing up and down between her legs, she gave him her best negotiator face.
“Okay, let’s just say, for hypothetical purposes, that I do move in with you. I’m going to need to know a heck of a lot more about the man I’m moving in with than I do now.”
