Free Hard Luck by Liv Morris Page A

be invisible.
    “No problem,” I respond. She glances at me, then returns her gaze to the big hunk of delicious man meat behind me. She appears to be starving…and my mother’s age. Forget charisma, Brady’s like a magnet pulling women to him and panties down.
    “How do you want to pay?” I blink a couple times and remember why I’m standing here.
    “Oh, the dress,” I exclaim.
    “I’ll take care of this.” Brady reaches over my shoulder and hands the smitten lady a crisp one-hundred-dollar bill. Like hell he’ll buy this gift for Charlotte.
    “Thanks, but I’ve got this,” I huff, trying to push his hand away from the counter, but he’s stronger than me by about one-hundred pounds, so I lose this battle.
    “Done,” Brady states. The sale lady giggles at him and takes his money. As if she’s going to tell Brady no. Score one for Brady.
    In utter defeat, I lay my head down on my arm as it rests on the counter. How the hell am I supposed to deal with him buying this gift? I don’t want to owe him a thing. He may expect payment in other forms and that thought worries me.
    “I didn’t know you had a girlfriend, Brady.” I pop my head up and stare at the woman. Girlfriend?
    “I’m not his girlfriend. Promise.” I cross my fingers over my heart about ten times for good measure.
    “Sure could’ve fooled me.” She gives me a knowing smile as she wraps the dress and settles it inside a small gift box.
    “What makes you think we’re together?” I ask, needing details so I can avoid looking like we’re a thing. He’s my patient and I don’t want to get in trouble with the licensing board. I just got the official you’re-a-PA certificate two months ago and one Brady Luck will not screw that up for me.
    I grab my stomach. It’s been either queasy or fluttering since Brady came to our practice. Right now it’s kind of a queasy flutter.
    “You fight like you’ve been together a long time.” She nods her head at us and Brady moves next to me, placing his hand on the small of my back. And damn, I like it. He’s also been as quiet as a mouse since the woman labeled me as his girlfriend. I look up and search his face to find him smiling, like her words are totally fine with him. Hmmm…
    “Please just give me the present,” I beg. The lady looks at me with startled eyes and hands me the gift. No walking around the counter for this exchange. “Thanks,” I mutter under my breath.
    “Gotta run.” I move away from Brady’s touch and head to the right, but he’s quicker than me and stands in front of my path.
    “What’s up? Not even a thank you?” he asks with a crestfallen sadness.
    “Thank you?” I tilt my head to the side, because I have no clue what he’s talking about.
    “The gift,” he replies.
    I knew it. He’s pressing this because there are strings attached and they are likely correlated with the area between my legs. But how rude was it of me not to even say thanks? Very rude. Especially since I’m an over-thanker at heart. Thank you, Sister Mary.
    “Okay, thanks, but I am not happy you paid for the gift. I should’ve protested more, but I didn’t want to cause a scene. I hardly know you.”
    “You get me hard , baby,” he says, and it sounds like a purr of some sort.
    “Oh my God,” I huff, trying to walk around him.
    “I knew you two were together,” the sales lady pipes in, and I throw my head back in complete frustration.
    “We aren’t,” I say in a non-inside voice while the lady nods with a knowing smile. I give up and turn to Brady.
    “I’m surprised you didn’t melt when you stepped into the baby department.” He chuckles at my remark and grins.
    “I love babies,” he says. I raise my brows in shock as I imagine little blue-eyed Brady babies with blond hair. The thought makes my ovaries explode.
    “Well, God knows you’re a pro at what it takes to make them,” I deadpan, intending to punch him below the belt where his perfect baby maker sits.
    “I