Free Hard Luck by Liv Morris

through the entrance door and fist pump the air, thinking I’m home free.
    “Cali, wait,” Brady calls out before the door closes. Spinning around, I find him looking at me over the head of the blonde seductress and give him a dazed stare. It’s shocking that he took his eyes off her boobs long enough to even notice I left him on the sidewalk.
    I hesitate for a moment. Should I turn and go—leave him to the blonde and her happy-to-screw-him eyes? I take a deep sigh type of breath and shake my head.
    “Yes?” I ask in an annoyed tone. Everyone turns their heads toward me, and the blonde gives me dagger eyes. I smile mockingly back at her, raising one shoulder and a brow. She returns my smile with a murderous glare. Whatever.
    “I’ll meet you inside after I sign. Okay?” The blonde smiles in victory, pressing her boobs closer to Brady. My stomach roils at the thought of him touching her.
    “Don’t bother,” I fume, letting the entrance door fully close behind me. Once inside the store, the fan noise disappears. I should feel happy to be away from him and his heartbreaking hotness—elated, in fact—but I’m not. Devastatingly hot guys who swing bats are my innate weakness. I stop at the shoe department first, since shoes are my other weakness.
    I buy a pair of red sandals with a stiletto heel that are on sale for seventy percent off, which are perfect for the new summer dress I bought at a thrift store last week. Taylor wants to go to the Drum Bar tomorrow night and these shoes make my outfit complete.
    “Where’s the baby department?” I ask the associate who helped me with my shoe purchase.
    “Upstairs next to lingerie,” she says.
    “Thanks.” In full Nordstrom style, she comes around the counter and directly hands me the bag with my shoes in it.
    I scan the main level before riding the escalator to the second floor. Brady Luck is nowhere to be seen, and he’s hard to miss at six-foot-three. Surely he’s finished up with the fans out front and left by now. I exhale and progress toward the pink and blue department.
    All the newborn clothes resemble something that would fit a baby doll. I find an adorable pink dress with a lacy overlay and white bows sewn on the front around the empire waist. Charlotte will look like a pink princess. I can’t wait to meet her tomorrow.
    “I love this dress. It just came in yesterday,” says the associate as she rings up my total. “That, that—” she stutters before going silent.
    I quit digging in my purse for my wallet and glance up at her. Her mouth gapes open, her eyes wide in shock, and I close mine. The saleslady’s face and the feel of heat behind me add up to one thing: Brady Luck. It’s like my body knows when he’s in my atmosphere.
    “Found you,” Brady whispers, and I keep my eyes closed to savor his closeness. When his lips graze my ear lobe, chills run the length of my body and my nipples harden into cutting glass mode.
    I turn toward him with my hand on my hip. There is a red lipstick mark on his cheek. I think back to Boobs with the Sharpie, certain the color matches her red lips.
    “I’m surprised you’re here instead of with Boobs,” I quip in disgust. “She left her mark on your cheek.”
    “Boobs?” He knits his brow in confusion, but there’s no way to explain my comment without sounding like a jealous girlfriend. Maybe I am a little more jealous than I care to admit. I mean, if I were wearing a mood ring, it might be emerald green.
    “The blond sharpie girl.” Brady laughs at my description.
    “Oh, her.” I nod and purse my lips.
    “Yes, Twin Peaks.”
    “You’re funny, you know that?” Brady says with a smirk.
    I shake my head and squint my eyes at him. Honestly, I’m pissed about caring for him more than I should. I also want to take a tissue to his cheek and wipe her foul imprint off him.
    “Miss,” the associate says, “sorry to interrupt.” I turn toward her and she’s looking straight at Brady. I might as well