Protecting His Pregnant Lover (Southern Soldiers of Fortune Book 1) by Leslie North

Author:Leslie North [North, Leslie]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2020-10-03T16:00:00+00:00

10

Olive was in danger. Levon could tell himself a million times over that his intrepid high school crush, and mother of his child, would have been in the Reapers’ crosshairs regardless of whether he was here or not—but that still didn’t change the fact that it was his fault she’d been on their stakeout last weekend. Stupid move, bro. Profoundly stupid.

Levon vowed to do better as he worked on the plumbing at the high school that Wednesday. He had to do better. There was no other option.

As he jammed the plunger harder than necessary into the porcelain basin, trying to dislodge whatever object shouldn’t have been in there in the first place, he tried to take some consolation in the fact that at least his infiltration into the school’s maintenance team had gone off without a hitch. They’d even given him a medieval-looking ring of keys that jangled on his belt with each hard thrust of the plunger. Those keys unlocked every door on campus, including Olive’s classroom. Plus, being here gave him a credible excuse to check in on Olive during the day.

Just not this day. These high school kids were keeping him busy, and the toilets weren’t going to unclog themselves of... what was that? A loud sucking noise filled the stall, followed by the wet plop of something on the floor. Nose scrunched, he reached down with a gloved hand to pick it up. It appeared to be a water-logged wad of paper. Setting the plunger aside, he carefully peeled the soggy paper open to reveal what looked like the answer key to a quiz. Of course.

“Brats,” he muttered under his breath. Not that he hadn’t tried the same thing himself back in the day. Tests were the worst for him in high school. All that pressure, all those questions swimming around before his eyes. Add in the time constraints and they were a disaster waiting to happen. It didn’t matter that he knew the material. Not when he had horrible test-taking anxiety. So yeah, he’d cheated a few times, because what else was he going to do? Back then, people didn’t recognize dyslexia as a real learning disability like they did now. They didn’t cut him any slack or give him any special accommodations because of it. They just made him sit there like everyone else while the time ticked by. He’d felt like a dead man walking those days, even with Olive’s help. If it hadn’t been for the resourcefulness of his friends in stealing the answers and his own creativity in making up extra credit points, he’d probably still be sitting in one of the classrooms, trying to find a way to pass.

He tried the handle on the toilet, but the damned thing was still clogged. Picking up the plunger, he went back to work, giving his upper body a good workout. Finally, a second squelching noise was followed by a second wad—this time, it was paper towels, wrapped around an object of some kind.

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