Not Ready (Assurance Security Duet #1)

by Jillian West

A man approaches from the open garage. He has broad shoulders and a trim waist. Tattoos line every inch of skin showing around the long sleeve T-shirt from his neck to his hands. He has on a backward baseball cap, but medium-brown curly hair spills out around his forehead. The sides seem shorter from what I can see. He’s also rocking a full beard a few shades darker than the hair on his head. His bluish-gray eyes assess everything as he comes closer.

“Hello,” he says, tilting his head. He has an English accent, if my dialect discerning abilities haven’t failed me. My neck cranes up so that I can meet his eyes. He’s extremely tall. I’m five-eight, which I wouldn’t consider short, but yeah, he’s a big guy. He has a slender build, like a runner or possibly a soccer player. His dark hair is just a little longer on top than on the sides, and he has a thick black beard that’s the same length as the shorter hair.

He’s not classically handsome. His nose is crooked, like it’s been broken more than once, and his jaw is a little too rugged, but there’s something about the whole gruff package that I’m wildly attracted to. I’m genuinely fond of who he is on the inside. The exterior is just a bonus,

This is the person I want to tell about my bad day or ramble to when something exciting happens.

I’ve been riled since I saw that motherfucker in her bedroom early this morning. If I could have crawled through the computer screen, I would have strangled him to death with my bare hands.

This is the problem with having friends. It’s exceptionally difficult to convince yourself to kill them when the need arises.

Did I specifically put her in the guest room that links to mine via a shared bathroom? Yes, I did. No, I do not feel even an ounce of guilt. If I thought it would pass as appropriate, I would’ve put her in my goddamn bed, right where she belongs.

I’ve known for two years that Vale is meant to be mine. In no universe did I see her coming with a bonus human being. But after I got over the urge to track down the guy who ghosted her, I realized pretty quickly that I really don’t care that the baby isn’t biologically mine. I figure, ninety-nine percent of being a parent is showing up and putting in the work, anyway. If anything, I’m grateful she doesn’t have to birth one of my gigantic babies on the first try. Seriously, I was nearly twenty-three inches and eleven pounds at birth.

I’m legitimately concerned that I’d track her down and bond her before she could escape again. Then I’d have to spend the rest of our lives apologizing for my crazy ass while trying to win over her trust. I’d really rather not have to go that route, but my impulses are full-blown caveman on the crazy meter.

“You know, I’ve heard alphas are caregivers. I haven’t had much firsthand experience myself, but thank you. It always reassures my impulses to have someone looking after me.” Her small hands land on my chest, giving me a pat.

Is it wildly inappropriate to be attracted to my very pregnant wife-to-be?

I’ve always needed a deep emotional connection to feel sexual attraction.

I text Hargrove, asking if there is some safe area where we should park. His response of lol isn’t helpful,

No, it’s definitely not me. He’s absolutely giving me whiplash.