by Quinn, Taryn
Wes pouted. “I don’t wanna miss the chat.”
I bit my lip and glanced toward Ally and Seth for help. “Laurie will be there. Right?” I asked more than a little desperately.
I didn’t like excluding Wes from anything family-related, but this conversation really wasn’t appropriate for little ears.
Bad enough he’d just had to hear my sister and his uncle re-enact an episode from the Jerry Springer show.
Seth and Ally exchanged glances. “Well, she’s with Alex at my dad’s,” Seth began, jumping back when Ally slipped her hand in his pocket. Probably to pinch him. “Okay, okay, fine. We’ll bring them to the pizza parlor. The night will probably end a little late for the kids to be out, but hey, it’s the holidays and a celebration. Besides, this one’s out and about.” He nodded at Sage and Oliver, who were fawning over Star as if she were the Christ child herself.
Neither of them paid him any mind.
“Thank you so much.” I smiled at them and rushed down to hug everyone one more time before our friends and families dispersed.
Gage had already taken off, right after Rylee. I hoped he wasn’t chasing her down to argue with her. Or have more sex. That probably wouldn’t end well. Rylee always insisted on winning arguments, and she was pretty pissed at Gage.
I didn’t think she’d harm any vital parts of his anatomy while he was sleeping, but you could never be sure with my sister.
“Whew.” I feigned wiping my brow as the last car full of guests peeled away from the curb. “It was touch and go there for a minute or two, huh? Imagine if—”
Dare drew me into his arms and fisted a hand in my hair, dislodging my tiara and whatever words I’d planned to say. His mouth was warm and soft against mine, but he added a bite of teeth just to remind me of the honeymoon night we would have as soon as we’d stuffed ourselves full of pizza and good cheer.
I couldn’t wait.
“I’ve never seen you look so beautiful,” he said roughly, his gaze dropping to my belly before lifting again to my face. “And that’s saying a lot, because you’re the prettiest damn woman in the world.”
My eyes filled and I tipped my forehead to his. “Do you know how long I waited to have someone look at me the way you do? To see me and want what he sees, just the way I am?”
“It had to be a long time, because I damn sure have waited a helluva long time for you.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “You’ve made me the happiest man in Crescent Cove, do you know that?”
I let out a watery laugh. “You have some stiff competition for that title. And speaking of stiff…” I swayed against him, giving the hard column in his tuxedo pants a quick rub. “I can’t wait for our honeymoon.”
“Even though we aren’t jetting off to some fabulous island like the rest of the fancy pants couples in this town would?”
“Um, yes, because our island doesn’t include clothing. Thank you very much.” I gave him a swift kiss, then swallowed hard. “Dare, our son is yours. For real. The tests came in, and I’m sorry they told me when you weren’t there, but he’s yours. There’s no doubt left.”
Dare tipped back his head and his Adam’s apple bobbed before he met my gaze again. “Our son? It’s a boy?”
And that was why I loved this man so fiercely. He wasn’t focused on the fact the baby had the same DNA as him, but that he was a sweet, already so beloved little boy. “Yes.” I knuckled away a tear. “Wes is going to be the best big brother to this little guy.”
“Yes, he is.” Dare shut his eyes and when he opened them, I would’ve sworn there was a sheen of wetness there before he blinked and it was gone. “And I’m gonna be the best damn dad to him.”
“Just like you are to your little boy.” I took a deep breath. “To our little boy. We have two of them.”
“We damn sure do.” He flashed me a blinding grin and then he swept me up into his arms. I shrieked and tried to hold onto my tiara and veil as he carted me down the steps.
“Oh my God, put me down. Where are you going?”
“We have a reception to attend, don’t we?”
“Well, yes, but it’s a few blocks away—Dare!”
He bent his head and gave me a hard, quieting kiss. “I didn’t get to carry you over the threshold the first time, so I’m gonna do tonight right.”
“Does that mean we’re going to christen the back of your parents’ pizza shop?” I asked breathlessly as he strode down the sidewalk as if he was toting a loaf of bread. He wasn’t even winded. “Since you’re carrying me over that threshold and all…”
He winked. “Never know, Nuts Lady. Might just close down the shop in our own way.”
I laughed and tossed back my head so that the gently falling snowflakes could cool down my suddenly warm cheeks. “Happy honeymoon to us.”
Pit Stop: Baby
Crescent Cove Book 4
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Pit Stop: Baby
© 2018 Taryn Quinn
Rainbow Rage Publishing
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First ebook edition: November 2018
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One
December (The night before my sister’s wedding)
The cheers around me threatened my steady hand. That and maybe the hundred proof whiskey I’d been drinking all night like it was Diet Coke. I was here for a good time and that was what I was having.
Mostly.
Mopping up the floor with the third team of dart players didn’t hurt. Or the extra seventy bucks in my ass pocket from the idiots betting against me.
When you lived in a small town like Turnbull, there wasn’t much else to do but play darts and pool with the guys. Especially since I wasn’t the type of girl to join a flock of women and preen at the bar. I liked to be in the middle of the action and knew I pissed off more women than I became friends with. I was the girl who excelled at darts but could run a table when needed.
“Come on, sweetheart, we don’t have all night.”
I ignored the guy with the two-pack-a-day voice. Justin? Jerry? I couldn’t remember and didn’t particularly care. He was just pissed because I’d trounced him first tonight. I’d taken twenty off of him before he even realized I’d won the round.
Judd, right. That was his name. Like the hot dude from The Breakfast Club. He even looked like him a little. Only it was the version of him on the wrong side of forty and didn’t turn my crank. Not that I had a problem with guys heading for forty and beyond. I’d played trophy girlfriend a few times when I was in my early twenties.
The bling was alluring. Guys in their twenties couldn’t afford sparklers like men with careers. The only problem there was I actually liked having a conversation with a guy. When you were from a different generation, it made things a little difficult. And I didn’t have it in me to be shallow enough to just enjoy the rich guy ride.
“Come on, Ryan, I just want a chance to win back my money.”
“My name is Rylee.” I flicked my dark hair over my shoulder and lifted my lucky purple dart.
No do-overs. One and done only for this girl. Getting fired three weeks before Christmas made a girl grab some perspective.
It was time to finish this damn game. I’d been stringing it out with the guys around me calling out their own numbers in the g
ame of 301. Each time I aced the shot, I picked up another five bucks.
But if I had to listen to Billy Joel’s “Piano Man” come belting out of that jukebox one more time tonight, I would eject the ancient record with my boot.
I blew out a slow breath and hit the center of the triple ring. Six guys groaned. “I believe that’s the final sixty points I needed?” I turned, downed my shot. I made gimme fingers and they each dropped a twenty on the table. I swiped up the pile. “Pleasure playing with you guys.”
“Bet you can’t hit a double bullseye in three rapid shots.”
The voice was deep. It carried from the back of the pack of men. The fact that my nipples instantly hardened and tried to bust through my glittery baby doll shirt made me swallow my acidic reply.
Maybe not so bored anymore.
“Another round for the table, darlin’.” The voice was smooth caramel over chocolate lava cake.
“You got it.”
Our waitress’s voice went breathy. At least that was a good sign that Mr. Caramel’s voice might in fact have a matching face.
Not that I cared. Much. My current jobless status meant I’d take his money regardless.
I twirled my dart through my fingers. “What’s the bet?” I had a cool two hundred in my pocket. Enough to cover groceries for a month. If I could double that, it would be even better.
The guy came out of the shadows and my nipples weren’t the only thing at attention. My clit and heart did a double tap like I was at the top of a rollercoaster one click past the drop.
Hello, caramel.
He matched the word in every way. Dark blond hair cut close, along with a scruffy face that was just beyond sandpaper to that perfect buzz that could make the very best friction when used correctly.
His smirk told me he was aware of his appeal. It remained to be seen if the smirk came with a boatload of asshole or charm.
But it was the eyes that had me sunk. Barrel-aged whiskey—my favorite. Even in the dim bar, they glowed hot and interested.
Did I mention my clit was doing a salsa beat? No? It sure was.
Unfortunately, I had just enough of said barrel-aged whiskey in my system to drown out self-preservation.
“What do you have in that perfect ass pocket?”
I grinned up at him. “Three hundred.”
Lies. But if I could take him for a little more…
He glanced around at the men who were suddenly finding their boots very interesting. “Is that right? Then obviously you are needing a bit of a trouncing.”
I turned back to the board. “So, that’s a bet then?”
“Don’t want to shake on it?” His voice came from right behind me. Far too close.
But remember that little mention about too much whiskey? Yeah, tequila had nothing on whiskey when it came to me.
I turned until we were almost lined up. I nibbled on my lower lip as I stared at his full, mack-worthy mouth. There was something about a man who had full lips. No teeth mashing would be a part of our future.
Because I was going to taste that mouth if it was the last thing I did tonight.
I locked my gaze with his. “Sure, we can seal the deal.” I rested my hand on his chest and went up on my toes.
His eyes went wide with surprise as I gripped the deceptively gorgeous cashmere of his sweater. Not exactly the kind of guy who belonged in a dive bar. I yanked him down and covered his mouth in a quick, hot kiss.
I was expecting a little buzz, but not this. Not the urge to drag him down closer. Usually, I was more talk than action when it came to men. I enjoyed flirting and could spin it out for ages without it ever coming to anything.
This fried my plans and my circuits like a…
Hmm. I didn’t really have a likeness in my electrified brain. And it was not because of the whiskey.
He rocked back on his heels, but not before his long fingers slid along my lower back. His fingers were not as soft as the sweater, which made him all the more intriguing. I’d been expecting paper-pusher hands. “Not exactly what I had in mind.”
“It’s a big bet.” I stepped away and turned back to the board. My fingers trembled a little. Damn, that probably hadn’t been my best move. “What was the shot?”
“Don’t remember?”
Nope. I sure didn’t. “Thought it might have been too easy but didn’t want to make life harder for myself if I didn’t have to.”
“Double bullseye within three quick throws.”
I tipped my head with a slow smile. “Do you do everything quick?”
His low laugh made all the things jangle inside me. “Loaded question.”
“If you have to think about it too much, then I probably don’t want to know.” I picked up my lucky dart with two of the others on the table. I straightened my shoulders and got into position.
I shot off the first two, and a light, warm breeze floated by my ear a la Kevin Costner’s Robin Hood. The third nailed the rim of one of the wires and clattered to the floor. My lucky fucking purple dart.
I whirled on him, my hands on my hips. “What the fuck?”
“We didn’t establish any rules.” A slow smile transformed his handsome face into downright sinful.
“That’s bullshit.” I resisted the urge to stomp my boot, but only barely.
He twirled me around and cozied up behind me. I stiffened in his arms, but he pointed to the board. “You still won there, Artemis.”
Startled, I twisted to look up at him. Mythology? Wears hot cashmere sweater, has man hands, and smart. I’m not sure where this trifecta came from, but I was afraid to blink. He’d totally be a figment of my buzzy imagination.
His stubbled cheek brushed along mine. “Guess I owe you three hundred, my little huntress.”
“From Artemis to huntress? I’m not sure I want to be downgraded.”
“I was thinking more like Princess Diana.”
I laughed. “Now a super blond and definitely not alive version. At least you could let me be Megan or something.”
“More like Wonder Woman.” He flicked his finger along my wavy dark hair. “You’re hot and fierce like her.”
“Oh.” I swallowed. Yeah, I could definitely deal with that comparison. “I definitely don’t have her boobs.”
I slammed my eyes shut. Good going, Rylee.
His hand spanned my waist. “Your breasts are perfect.” He nipped my ear. “You started this little dance, but are you willing to finish it?”
The guys around us had dissipated when they were no longer part of the fun. They’d taken their free beers and gone about their business. I was alone with him. Well, as alone as I could be in a bar still half-full of people.
My breath died in my chest. Did I really have the balls to take him up on his offer? I’d done this before, both times ending in disaster. A college hookup the one and only year I’d attended. He’d been all talk and barely a two-pump chump.
The other had been a temp job with a fiery end. That was more hate fuck with a side of stupidity. Also, more amazing in theory than in execution. I’d only ended up with bruises on my ass from the desk and no orgasms to be had.
“I’m sorry, huntress. I didn’t mean to overstep.” He took a step back.
Obviously, I’d taken too long to answer. Lost in the morass of the many mistakes in my past, I’d given him the wrong sign. Or maybe it was him moving back that gave me the courage to turn around and grab his hand. “One night. No repeats.”
He turned back to me. “No repeats? Not even tonight?”
I swallowed. Could a guy actually go more than once without passing out? I’d thought that was just in books and movies.
I lifted my chin. “As many times as you can fit in one night, handsome.”
He opened his mouth. I went up on my toes again and shut it for him.
I didn’t want to know his name. I didn’t want anything but a crazy night that would make this shitstorm of a week better. I had to stand up with my sister tomorrow and make eve
ryone think I wasn’t the world’s worst fuck-up.
Again.
If I was going to make a crazy mistake, at least this guy seemed like he might make it worth the trouble.
Either way, I was about to find out.
Two
March
All that mattered was doing my job well.
I had to make coffee. Everyone at work had an order and I had to get them right.
New girl.
Had to make a good impression.
Cream and sugar with a splash of caramel for Kathy. The good caramel. The kind that was kept behind the counter.
I fumbled across the counter. Not caramel. Not the good stuff.
Kathy would be mad.
Where was the caramel?
But what about Monty’s coffee cake?
I moved to the shelves along the side and took a plate. Mustn’t forget the cake. Caramel on the cake? Maybe he’d like that too. Where was the caramel?
“What the hell are you doing in my fucking café?”
I turned toward the sound. “I’m looking for caramel of course.” I took the plate to the counter. “Monty wants coffee cake.”
“Are you drunk?”
“No, it’s morning. I don’t drink in the morning.” I moved back to the counter and took the lid off the muffin plate. No, he wanted coffee cake. “Okay, maybe I used to drink in the morning, but not anymore. I have to get coffee for work. Please don’t make me late. Sam wouldn’t like if I’m late. I’m the new girl, and I can’t be late.”
A bright light dented the fog.
“It’s three in the goddamn morning. I don’t have time to deal with this shit. You need to keep your damn edibles on the shelf unless you’re sharing with friends.”
“Edibles?” I frowned and looked down at the plate in my hand. I frowned. That wasn’t my plate.
