Protecting His Pregnant Lover (Southern Soldiers of Fortune 1)

Now her key was in the lock, and he still hadn’t thought of anything brilliant to say. Maybe he should put it to her bluntly. Olive, we need to talk about the baby—

A piece of paper slipped free from the crack of her door and fluttered to the ground. Olive grabbed hold of the frame so she could stoop to pick it up, but Levon got to it first. He rose and held the note out to her under the light; then he drew closer to get a better look as Olive gasped. He had to be sure he was reading it right.

Stay in your lane, the hand-penned message warned. The boy is ours.

Suddenly, Levon realized there was another possible explanation for what had happened when the thug had grabbed Olive. Maybe the reason he’d frozen wasn’t because of the pregnancy, or because she’d talked too fast for the attacker to think straight. Maybe he’d frozen because he’d recognized her voice—realized who she was, despite the darkness—once she’d started talking. That was how he’d known to leave the note here.

Which meant the Reapers were aware of who Olive was, and where she lived. And they knew she was a threat.

In that moment, Levon knew exactly what to say.

“Pack a bag,” he said. “You’re coming home with me.”

5

How did you argue with a Navy SEAL? You didn’t. Olive took one look at Levon’s steely expression, standing there under the suddenly not-so-safe-seeming light of her porch, and complied without protest.

It was only now when she found herself at his furnished rental apartment that she realized she might have had a choice in the matter—and maybe the wiser choice might have been not to stay the night with the father of her child.

“Seriously, Levon. I’ve lived twenty-six years of my life unprotected,” Olive stressed to her white knight for the umpteenth time. She paused in the doorway to remove her shoes, striking out for something to cling onto for balance. That something wound up being Levon’s offered bicep. She blushed, but accepted it.

Just because she was seven months along didn’t make her a porcelain doll!

“And I’ve spent t

wenty-eight years alive on this earth, which means I know more than you do about surviving,” Levon snapped back. “Did I mention I’m an ex-Navy SEAL?”

“One or two times. In fact, you bring it up an awful lot, considering I’ve always read that special forces are supposed to be discreet.” Levon bent to help her remove her other shoe, which at least meant he couldn’t see her go completely scarlet at the gesture. White knight indeed. “This isn’t a competition, by the way,” she added as his thumb brushed along the arch of her foot in a way she wasn’t certain was necessary. “Also, pulling the age card is so high school.”

“Not my fault you skipped a grade.” Levon grinned up at her dazzlingly. While she was busy being blinded by his good looks, he took her bag from her. Stole her bag from her, more like.

“I skipped two grades,” she corrected primly.

“Who’s feeling competitive now?”

Olive huffed, blowing an errant curl of hair out of the way of her glasses, and then made her way cautiously into his bachelor pad as he carried her things off to rooms unknown. Man cave or not, this was a definite step up from the shed. A bit impersonal, as she would expect a furnished rental to be, but it was nicely put together. The space was precise without sacrificing comfort: there was a flat-screen in the den, and an overstuffed sectional that looked more comfortable than a heavenly cloud pulled down to earth. Olive sank into it with a deep sigh. She felt bone-weary all of a sudden, and she didn’t think it was just her pregnancy.

The baby. She had been so focused on the logistics of staying healthy to deliver her child—and on the reality of becoming a single mother—that she had actually been able to avoid thinking about the emotional side of things. For the most part. Days were easier, but the nights alone were torture.

That was why she focused so hard on her work, pouring herself into helping her students so she wouldn’t have to think about the task looming ahead of her. It helped having Franklin and the rest of her students to worry about. Of course, now that she knew Franklin and the others were facing real danger, her anxiety over them was going to get way more intense. Especially when factoring in the note that made it seem like she was being targeted, as well.

“Here. I brought you something.” Levon’s low voice pulled her out of her more disturbing thoughts, and Olive looked up.

“Tea?” she said brightly, perking up at the sight of him carrying two steaming mugs. She took the one he passed to her gingerly.

“Careful. It’s extra hot. I know that’s how you like it.”

“You do?” Olive blinked in confusion. “And how do you know that, exactly?”

“Please. I have a better memory than you think.” Levon joined her on the couch. The cushion beside her sagged beneath his greater weight, and she couldn’t stop the flutter of awareness inside her. Levon Asher had always been big and powerful, never going through the awkward stages of puberty like the rest of the boys in their class… at least, not that she had noticed. And she had definitely been paying attention.

“Of all the things about me, this is what you remember?” she asked. He kept his distance from her on the couch, but it was still too easy to imagine him spanning that distance, hot tea be damned.

“Of course. You’re the only person I’ve ever met who used a Bunsen burner to reheat their beverages.” Levon chuckled at the memory and threw his arm over the back of the couch. “Did you know they make electric coasters now?”

Olive stared at the mug cradled in her hands. “What can I say? I was ahead of my time.”

“You were ahead of all of us, and probably still are.”