“How’s it supposed to help?”
Rett rested her elbow on Lucky’s shoulder. “Sometimes, when a woman is trying to get pregnant, she’s nervous and upset. I’m not sure how it works, but once she stops worrying, bang! What I gave her is full of vitamins and can only help, not hurt, but if she believes it’ll work, she might relax enough to let nature do its thing.”
Lucky narrowed his eyes. Sounded like some kind of old wives’ tale. “You said you owed your nephew and nieces to what’s in that jug.”
“And I do. Mom made it for my sisters and sisters-in-law. My sister went a whole two years before she finally caved and let Mama make her a batch. The next month? Little Junior on the way!”
“You?”
Her smile fell. “Don’t you ever tell Rone this, but he was unplanned. I wouldn’t take nothing for him, mind you, but at the time I wondered what kind of mother I’d make, given my job and all. And his daddy being, well, his daddy.”
A good cop gone wrong.
“But you’ll see. Keep the pressure off Charlotte, and things’ll be right as rain.” Rett patted Lucky’s cheek. “Now, I gotta get going. Grandma’s keeping Rone so I can do some shopping. See you bright and early Monday.”
Her tennis shoes patted against the floor on her way to the door.
Lucky didn’t want to get his hopes up, but…
CHAPTER SEVEN
Lucky eased out from under the covers early on Monday morning. Something he’d never willingly do without good cause. Ah, but the comfort of warm blankets and a warmer Bo lured him back to sleep. The image of Johnson whooping his ass for sluffing off got him off his ass and on his feet.
No need waking Bo yet. He’d not asked whether or not Lucky spoke with Johnson. Going in early to do a little research before everyone else arrived might call for explanations, since early mornings sucked stump water.
Bo let out a “Mmmph”, rolled over, and resumed snoring.
Ah, the love of my life.Lucky kept his snicker to himself. Somehow the snoring, sleeping with his mouth open, or any of the other things Lucky might have wanted to kick a guy out of bed for in the past were cute on Bo.
Cute. Yeah, best to keep that opinion to himself too. Bo might not like association with a word most folks used to describe a baby or a puppy.
Lucky tiptoed out of the room in his boxers, peering out the door before crossing the den to the kitchen and laundry room, where he’d stashed his clothes for the day. Cat Lucky lay sleeping on the back of the couch. Traitor Moose, who now had his pick of humans to sleep with, probably chose Charlotte last night. One body. Queen sized bed they’d brought from Washington. Plenty of room for a monster-sized dog to stretch out.
Lucky slid his clothes into the dryer and turned the setting to five minutes. Nothing like slipping into warm clothes first thing in the morning. If forced to get up early, he’d make the most of the inconvenience. He leaned against the dryer to wait.
How would the baby and the pets get along? Lucky gave himself a mental smack. There was no baby yet, and he knew better than to get his hopes up for nothing. There were no guarantees. But still, maybe his future son or daughter would come into the world with their own built-in guard dog.
Not that a guard dog would be necessary. If someone hurt his kid…
No, not his kid. Yet. Bo barely spoke about kids, except when doing his duty into a plastic cup. Had he changed his mind about wanting a family with Lucky? Maybe Lucky should pick up some sperm-collection condoms, make the technical process more enjoyable, and less weird.
Nope, he’d promised once the gloves came off, they’d never go back on.
He pulled the warm clothes out of the dryer, slipped them on, and eased toward the front door, boots in hand. Too fucking early, but maybe he’d set Rett’s mind at ease today.
Or maybe he’d find himself ass deep in alligators.
Not the first time, and probably not the last. He shoved his feet into his boots on the front porch. His jacket kept the chill at bay as he ran out the door to his car. March mornings shouldn’t be this fucking cool! Brrr… Too bad his vehicle didn’t have heated seats and steering wheel like Bo’s shiny new one. Or a handy device to start the car from inside the house and climb in all warm and toasty.
Heater envy. Go figure.
The heater in Lucky’s Camaro finally started earning its keep about five miles from the house, and hadn’t truly made the car comfortable until Lucky pulled under the SNB building to the parking garage underneath.
Lisa hadn’t yet arrived to work, so he managed to get past the reception desk without comment. Damn, the place creeped him out when empty.
He settled into his chair, fired up his laptop, and checked his emails. Or tried to. Reaching into his computer bag, he fished around for the reading glasses he’d bought one day while out on his own. Nobody here at this hour to see.
Lucky settled the cheap plastic frames on his nose. Better to read all the information Johnson had gathered so far.
