Hard Hart: The Harty Boys, Book 1

by Cox, Whitley

  Still no answer.

  Fuck.

  Panic flooded him as his big palm engulfed the knob and he gave it a quick turn. If it wasn’t open, he’d kick the fucker down if he had to. Her car was out front; she was home. What the fuck was going on?

  But the door was open, and he let himself inside, having to duck again to get in under the doorjamb. He was about to call out for her when the sound of puking caused him to pause.

  The place was small and dated but clean and cozy. He saw the door to the bathroom leading off the hallway and made his way toward it.

  “Krista?” he asked softly, seeing her kneeling on the floor, hunched over the toilet, one hand bunching her hair at the nape of her neck while the other one gripped the bowl tight enough to make her knuckles white.

  He was about to say something when she pitched forward and heaved again. Before he knew it, he was inside the bathroom and pushing her hand away from her hair, holding it off her face for her as both her hands clutched the bowl. He located a black hair elastic on the sink counter and quickly tied her hair up, then his hand fell to her back, where he did the only thing he could think of. He began to gently rub. His big fingers traced her delicate spine, feeling every ridge and bump, every muscle tighten as she heaved up more into the bowl.

  She groaned and slumped forward, resting her forehead on the back of her hand. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to offer you a ride to the ultrasound. Figured we could go and grab lunch after and discuss this baby-raising thing a little more. Set some parenting parameters.”

  She twisted a bit and gave him the side-eye, only lifting her head slightly from her hand. “Parameters?”

  He lifted one shoulder. “Or whatever.”

  Suddenly, a little tabby wandered into the bathroom, brushing affectionately against his leg before stepping into the litter box beside the toilet. It scratched a few times in the sand, then began to do its business.

  “You have a cat?” he asked, weirded out by the intense eye contact the cat was making with him as it squatted.

  “Penelope.”

  Lifting his hand from her back for a moment, he ran his fingers through his short, bristly hair. “Jesus, woman, don’t you know pregnant women aren’t supposed to change cat litter?”

  She lifted her head up and, using her hands on the bowl, pushed herself up onto her knees. “How do you know that?”

  “I’ve been reading.”

  “Reading what?”

  “Parenting books.”

  “Who the fuck are you?” she murmured. He helped her with a hand under her elbow. He gave her some space by retreating to the narrow and dimly lit hallway.

  She joined him a few moments later and followed him out to her kitchen. He went to her fridge and opened it. All it contained was half a carton of milk, a bowl of soup in a Tupperware container and three apples. Her freezer didn’t prove to be much better, besides a few bags of frozen french fries.

  “That’s it,” he said, slamming her freezer. “You’re coming to live with me. Before I was willing to let you do what you wanted, but that was until I saw that you have no food and are cleaning a cat litter box. You need food.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I have food. I’m not coming to live with you.”

  He scoffed. “Not enough.” His eyes glanced at the clock on her oven. “Grab your purse. Otherwise we’ll be late.”

  Glaring at him, she did as she was told, slinking into her jacket as she pushed past him and out into the cold November day.

  “Don’t you lock your door?” he asked, watching her head to her car.

  She rolled her eyes again and pushed past him, digging her keys out of her purse and locking it. “My landlords are always home. Besides, the door is shoddy. A raccoon could bust in if the wind was blowing from the right direction.”

  He grunted. “No excuse. Lock it from now on. And we definitely lock the doors at my house. Have an alarm too.”

  “I’m not living with you,” she murmured, not letting him get ahead of her and making her way toward her car.

  “You’re driving with me into town, though. We’ll discuss the living together thing more later.”

  “No,” she said, opening up her car door. “I plan to go grab some groceries after the ultrasound. I’ve worked nights the last three days and haven’t had time to go shopping.”

  She didn’t give him a chance to respond before she started her car. Or at least attempted to start her car. But instead it just sat there and sputtered.

  Not bothering to even ask, he made his way to his truck and drove it closer to her car, positioning them bumper to bumper. He popped the hood of his truck and motioned for her to do the same. With a growl he could practically hear through the car, she complied. He hooked up their batteries and instructed her to start ’er up. Seconds later, the sputter turned into a rumble, and exhaust was floating out from the back like a chimney.

  He unhooked the jumper cables and shut both hoods. But before she could pull away and leave him there, he walked over to her side of the car, opened the door, leaned in, grabbed the key and shut it off.

  “What the hell?” she asked, trying to push him out. Her car wasn’t exactly big, and he was taking up a lot of her personal space. But that smell of hers was making it hard for him to concentrate.

  Pulling her key from the ignition, he stood. “You’re driving into town with me. Then we’ll grab lunch and groceries. I want to make sure you’re eating right. Taking care of our baby.”

  If looks could kill, he’d be six feet under.

  He snickered to himself but hid his face by glancing off toward the sky and the dark clouds. Shit, more rain. Like they needed more.

  He liked her stubbornness. Liked her fight and temper. It was all the cuter coming from such a tiny package.

  She growled and huffed as she abandoned her car and complied, falling into step with him as he headed to his truck. Like the gentleman his mother had raised, he held open her door for her and watched her tight little ass flex as she climbed up into the cab.

  “That’s better,” he said, slamming her door and chuckling at the glare she was giving him as he rounded the front of the truck to the driver’s side. “Much better.”

  * * *

  “I have to pee,” Krista said with a wince as she and Brock sat there in the waiting room of the ultrasound clinic.

  “Isn’t that a good thing?” he asked. “Means your bladder’s full.”

  “Yes. Doesn’t mean it’s not uncomfortable as hell.” She gave him a curious side-eye. “How’d you know?”

  One bulky, leather-clad shoulder lifted half an inch. “I’ve been reading.”

  “Krista Matthews?” said a woman in blue scrubs and square frameless glasses, interrupting Krista’s thoughts before she could think of a witty comeback for the man sitting next to her. Instead she just breathed a sigh of relief and pushed herself up out of the chair.

  “Oh, thank God,” she murmured, following the woman down the hallway to one of the rooms, her big burly shadow hot on her heels, smelling all sexy and shit.

  “Just in here,” the ultrasound tech said, holding open the door.

  Krista and Brock followed her inside, where a bed sat under an overhead light, and beside it was a monitor, keyboard and chair. A television was perched up in the corner of the room with a blinking screen.

  “On the bed, please,” the technician instructed.

  Brock held out his hand, and Krista gave him a dubious look.

  What the heck was his hand for?

  “Do you need a hand up onto the bed?” he asked.

  Damn, he was being so nice it was hard to stay mad at him, despite how pushy he was behaving. Making her ride with him, insisting they grab lunch. What was he trying to do? Date her?

  Not that she needed the assistance, she took his hand anyway and allowed him to help her hop up onto the bed.

  She did as she was directed, and before too long, the tech was swirling the wa
nd around in the goop on Krista’s flat abdomen.

  “We’re just going to check on baby’s size today,” the tech said. “Make sure of your due date and that there is only one in there.”

  Krista’s eyes went wide, and her head snapped from the technician’s face to Brock’s. “Do twins run in your family?” she asked, her tone edged with panic.

  He simply shook his head.

  She let out a long, loud sigh of relief. “Mine either.”

  Quietly, they both watched as the technician continued to move the wand around her stomach. And then suddenly, a worry so startling, so frightening took over.

  What if the woman couldn’t find a heartbeat? What if there was no baby?

  A lump harder than stone formed in Krista’s throat. It may not have been planned or with someone she loved or was committed to, but that baby had already become such a fixture in her life. In her mind. It couldn’t not be there.

  “I-is there … ” she started, not sure she wanted to finish her question for fear of the answer.

  Thump, thump, thump, thump …

  Before she knew what was happening, Brock’s hand was on hers, squeezing until she wasn’t sure there was any blood left in her fingers.

  “And that’s baby’s heartbeat. Strong and steady,” the technician said. She pointed to the screen perched up in the corner of the room. “And there’s baby.”

  Brock and Krista glanced up at the television, where lo and behold, a little black and white bean-shaped thing sat twitching on the screen. You could already see the formation of eyes, head, arms and legs.

  “Holy shit,” Krista whispered, her eyes getting wet.

  Brock squeezed her hand even tighter. “Yeah.”

  Chapter Five

  “You feel like a burger?” Brock asked after the forty-minute ultrasound appointment that had left them both blissfully speechless and with a sleeve of black and white pictures with labels like “foot” and “hand” and “face.” Even though in reality they looked like no more than blurry blobs that could just as easily have been a giraffe or platypus fetus.

  Eyes glued to the pictures, Krista nodded. “Sure, whatever.”

  No more than a grunt. He held open the truck door for her, and she climbed in, her heart swelling and her mind spinning as she just continued to stare at the pictures.

  “You tell work yet?” Brock asked, pulling out of the ultrasound clinic parking lot. “Should be switching to light duty. Desk shit.”

  Slowly, she peeled her eyes away from her child. “No.”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “No.”

  “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. “Let me?”

  He nodded with another grunt.

  “I’ll let work 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 you love highway 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’d ordered her 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 your opinions.” 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’re going 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, you really shouldn’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—about some things. 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 roasted red 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.”

  He visibly stiffened, and even though she couldn’t see it, an invisible wall came crashing down around him.

  He grunted. “Okay.”
>
  “Do you have any siblings?”

  He nodded. “Three younger brothers.”

  “And your parents?”

  His jaw twitched. “Dad died when I was twelve. Mum lives across town.”

  Her heart clenched inside her chest. Mickey had mentioned Brock’s dad was gone. Didn’t mention when he’d died though. “I’m sorry about your dad.”

  He grunted and lifted one shoulder.

  “Did you mother ever remarry?”

  He shook his head.

  She let out an exasperated huff. It was like pulling teeth to get the man to open up. “Look, if you want me to consider moving in with you, you’re going to have to give me more. I’d prefer to get my information from the source. But I’ll do a background check on you at work if I have to.”

  The man looked like he was going to vomit, but he shut his eyes for a moment before starting. “My mother never remarried, so when my dad died, I took on the role as father-figure to my brothers. All four of us have done a stint in the Naval Reserves. Like our dad. Dad became a cop, though, after.”

  “Are any of your brothers cops?”

  He shook his head again. “No. We were recruited by Joint Task Force 2, and then ran special ops.”

  Krista’s eyes went wide. Was he still doing that now?

  He must have read her expression. “I retired.”

  She sat there in quiet contemplation for a moment. Sure, he was a bossy ass, but he didn’t seem like a bad guy. She put away bad guys. And she wasn’t getting that kind of a vibe from Brock. Pushy? Yes. Alpha? Yes. Bad? No. He was definitely one of the good guys.

  She lifted her eyes to his from where she’d been staring at her plate. “So, if I move in with you, then what?”

  “Then I take care of you and our baby. I’m responsible for that child.”

  “Are you always responsible?”

  He didn’t even blink. “Yes.”

  Did the man know how to have fun? Or had he abandoned all whimsy the day his father died, becoming the man of the house?

  She studied him for a moment, all sexy and broody. Those walls of his were up, but from the way the left side of his jaw ticked, she wondered if there was perhaps a hairline crack in his fortress. Was he worried she was going to say no?