Rockstar Baby: Crescent Cove Book 6

by Quinn, Taryn

  “Nice place for a waitress.”

  “Got a filter to go with that mouth?”

  “No.”

  I rolled my eyes and twisted a stone behind the large glider bench that was currently tarped against the winter elements. Soon, it would be spring and I could sit outside with my ice cream instead of huddling under a blanket.

  I unlocked the door, returned the key, and held it open. “Welcome to Casa Beck.”

  He crossed the threshold and the foyer felt smaller. Which was ridiculous since my brother was approximately the size of a rugby player and we came home together all the damn time.

  I shrugged it off and flicked lights on as I walked through the small living room to the kitchen. “I currently live with my brother. Both of us are single so it seemed stupid to pay two rents when we work opposite shifts.”

  “You don’t need to explain yourself to me. In Ireland, it was rare for a woman not to live with their family until she was married.”

  “And you said you were American.”

  He curled his fingers around the back of the stool at the kitchen island. “I’ve been in the States for a while. Left as soon as I could. It’s actually easier to get out and work in the US than it is to go the other way around. I was grateful for it.”

  That was probably the longest string of information I’d heard from him about who he was. And I had to remember it wasn’t necessary. We were here for one thing.

  Me to have a little more time with him and not get all twisted up into some awkward conversation that would make him want to head out faster.

  Or maybe that was the right track. Maybe this was a—

  He stepped in front of me and brushed my hair behind my shoulder. “Was bringing me here for food a euphemism? Or are you actually going to feed me?”

  I laughed. “Little bit of both.” I looped my finger into his belt. “When’s your flight?”

  He lowered his nose to brush along mine. “Midnight.”

  “Well, then. We have plenty of time to do both.”

  He nipped my lower lip. “When does this brother get home?”

  I shrugged. “Aug tends to get lost in his work. A Beck trait.”

  “And what do you get lost in, my little ginger fairy?”

  “You,” I said against his mouth just before I covered it. I hadn’t meant to say it, but it was true.

  I dragged in a deep breath as storm Rory moved in for its second level destruction. He pushed me up against the kitchen island, then lifted me to the counter. I was a little taller than him, thanks to the island’s custom height. It didn’t seem to bother him though. He had greater access to my tits, which wasn’t a bad thing in the least.

  He stripped me out of the borrowed sweater and T-shirt to cup my breasts together as they flowed up out of my bra. I hooked my legs around his middle, pulling him closer.

  This kitchen island action looked so easy in the movies. In reality, there was no way to get clothes off easily. We laughed and tugged at our clothes until he pulled me down off the counter.

  “Bedroom,” he muttered against my mouth as my bra disappeared.

  I turned him toward the back of the house and we bumped our way down the darkened hallway. The day’s brief sunshine had faded into a watery gray. We were just lucky another storm hadn’t hitchhiked with the first one.

  Finally, we got to the end of the hall. I fumbled with the doorknob before he pushed me through the doorway. I tripped over my laundry basket and we both went down hard on my bed, but it didn’t stop us. We were both too far gone.

  He didn’t even get his jeans down around his thighs before I was gripping his shaft.

  “Fuck, Ivy.”

  “Yes. Yes, more of that.”

  He unearthed a pair of condoms and I smiled wide.

  “I nicked them from the medicine cabinet.”

  “Smart man.”

  “Not sure about that.” He huffed out a groan against my throat as I gripped him tighter.

  “Suit up, LC.”

  He reached for the condom on the edge of my bed. “I’ve never known a woman like you.”

  “That’s a good thing.”

  “Working for me.” He ripped open the package and sheathed himself quickly. Then he was inside me.

  Thank freaking God.

  Our hands both held onto the headboard. It was hard, fast, and relentless.

  We were both up and over the edge before I even had time to consider anything crazy.

  Like God, did my boobs look like shit this way? I didn’t have any makeup on. Did I seem too greedy? The whole host of usual worries while having sex.

  Nope. Not today. Not with him. When Rory got near me, I forgot about everything but pleasure and the wild ride past thought to pure feeling.

  I hooked an arm around his neck as he touched his forehead to mine and a low, slow groan rumbled between us. Then he actually pinned me to mattress for a few seconds.

  There were no words, just the marathon gallop of my heart as I slowly came out of the euphoria clouds. I looked down between us to see my pants dangling off one ankle, along with my panties. Who the hell knew where my bra had landed.

  Somewhere in the kitchen. Maybe. I’d have to go look for that before August came home.

  I so didn’t need that conversation.

  “Apologies,” he muttered before sliding away to deal with the condom. He returned to curl around me. There wasn’t a whole lot of room on my full bed for a man like Rory.

  I laughed. “Only you would say ‘I’m sorry’ after amazing sex.”

  “Would you rather I be a dick and just roll off?”

  Maybe. Then I wouldn’t want to rewind and do this again three, four, twelve more times.

  I slipped from the bed, then leaned down to remove the rest of my clothing. I gathered my hair up into a messy knot and forced myself to look him in the eye.

  It took a minute since his gaze was roving over my body. All five-feet-three-inches of me. Not a long perusal, but I couldn’t deny the flush I felt climbing up my neck. No one had ever looked at me like he did.

  He had given me a lot of my firsts.

  Just figured that a man who was rushing to leave town would make all my girl parts stand up and take notice. As well as my brain, because I really liked sparring with him too.

  “Fuck me, you are a vision.”

  “Glad those yoga videos really work.”

  “That they do. You put the women in Los Angeles to shame.”

  “Oh, now you’re just blowing up my skirt.”

  “You’re not wearing one.” He held his hand out. The corner of his distractible mouth tipped up. “Come back here.”

  I wanted way too much to roll back into his arms. “I need to use the ladies. I’ll be right back.”

  The smile in his eyes faded. “All right.”

  Ugh. I was so stupid. I was the one making it weird now.

  Thankfully, we had a Jack and Jill bathroom, and I didn’t have to sprint across the hall naked or something stupid. But I needed a second to gather my thoughts and put myself back together.

  Obviously, getting naked with someone was way more intense than I’d thought it would be. I just needed to chill out a second and I’d be fine.

  I’d never been so glad to have a load of clothes in the stackable washer and dryer in the bathroom. I pulled out my favorite jeans. There was nothing I couldn’t do with these babies on.

  My first batch of ice cream.

  My first job.

  My first date with a boy.

  I tugged on a few more layers of armor—bra, underwear, long-sleeved T-shirt with a rude, dripping ice cream cartoon, and my mint chocolate chip socks. There was no way he would want me when I was wearing this.

  I twisted my hair up into two twists on top of my head because it was so beyond snarled from all our…fun.

  Yes, fun. That was it.

  We could totally have a very late lunch and do the banter thing, and then he’d go on his merry way. I’d
be left with a little soreness—because holy crap, that man knew how to fuck—and a great memory to get me through the next few months until I could get my truck ready for summer.

  Easy peasy.

  I slid back into the room to find Rory at my large window. He’d pulled his jeans back on, but they were still unbuttoned. He was shirtless and the afternoon light showcased his wide shoulders and lean hips. I was halfway across the room before I thought about it. What the hell was I going to do, cuddle up to him and look out the window like we were in some rom com come to life?

  He turned to me with a hesitant smile. “Can you tell me why there’s a large white lunch truck in your backyard?”

  “That’s soon to be my ice cream truck.”

  “Is it now?”

  “It is.”

  “What? Like the ice cream man?”

  I narrowed my gaze at him. “Not quite.”

  I picked up his shirt from the end of my bed and tossed it at him. Much safer if he was fully dressed. That way I wouldn’t toss him back down on the bed.

  “I’ll show you.”

  He caught it against his chest. “All right.”

  I walked out the door and down the hall to the back door.

  “Ivy?”

  “This way.” I called from the back door. I stepped into my snow boots and crunched my way across the yard to my future. I reached for the handle and hauled myself up into the rusted-out truck. I’d convinced my brother to help me strip it down to the bare parts just before winter hit. I’d lowered the windows to get the taco smell out of all the crevices. The brisk winter winds that whipped through the back of our property had done the trick.

  A long whistle dragged me out of my musings.

  I turned around with a big grin. “Like it?”

  He folded his arms across his chest. “It’s big.”

  I laughed. “I know it looks like something out of a bomb shelter right now. Me and my brother ripped out all the rusty grills, and I’ve ordered a huge double walled freezer to go right here.” I widened my arms to take up the empty section. “It’ll have room for all my ice cream tubs, and on Sundays, I’ll have gelato. A lighter ice cream for after the big family picnics and dinners.”

  He lifted his arms up to hang on the handle above the old ventilation area. “And will you be wearing a cute little striped apron?”

  “Shut up. I’ll be wearing a T-shirt and shorts because it will be a million degrees in the summer.”

  “Short shorts?” he asked with a lot of hope in his voice. Way more than he should have since he probably wouldn’t be seeing me in said shorts, but I was willing to play along.

  “Easier to wipe ice cream off my legs if I keep them short.”

  He swallowed. “Is that right?”

  Slowly, I moved to where he was. His sweater was a little raised due to his long stretch. “You have any idea how to keep my legs from getting sticky?”

  “Jesus.”

  I grinned up at him. “Well, I’m only taking my cues from you, sir. I seem to remember a few thoughts you had.” His belly trembled under my nails as I scored the light fur just above his jeans. I went onto my toes to nip his chin. “You have a very talented tongue, LC.”

  “Christ.”

  I traced little circles along the tight muscles of his abs. “What color do you think I should do?”

  “Color?” His eyes went blind as I flicked the tail of his belt through the loops.

  “I’m thinking bright, summery colors with a cool chalkboard on the side of the truck.” I unzipped his jeans and lowered myself to the metal bench that still remained in the shell of the truck.

  “Ivy.”

  “What? I don’t even have to get my knees dirty.”

  His grip tightened and so did the muscles in his arms. Even under a sweater, they were deliciously impressive. “It’s cold as fuck.”

  “You won’t be cold in a minute.”

  “We’re in a fucking truck.”

  “My ice cream truck.” I pulled him free of his boxers and licked his shaft. I grinned up at him. “Want me to show you how I stop any drips?”

  He shut his eyes and let out another string of words I couldn’t understand.

  I swiped my tongue along the flared head of his very interested cock. “That’s a yes?” I took him into my mouth and released him with a little pop. “So, what’s your favorite flavor?” I bit my lower lip as I gripped him a little harder. “Salted caramel?” I gave him a careless lick. “Or wait, is that mine?”

  “Sweet bleeding Jesus.”

  “So many churchy references. Your mom would wash your mouth out.”

  “Can we not mention my mum right now?”

  I licked my way up the underside of his cock, winding the path of a vein with the tip of my tongue. “Well, then tell me,” I took a long, slow mouthful of him and let him free, “what your favorite flavor is.”

  “Peppermint.”

  “Like a candy cane?” I twisted my fingers around him. “Interesting.”

  “Like those sweets.” His voice was strangled.

  I could take pity on him, but where would be the fun in that? I took him deeper until I couldn’t take anymore. Then I let him free with a gulp of my own. He really was an impressive specimen. “Which sweets?” I stroked again.

  “The dark chocolate ones with the… Christ, how do you do that?”

  I grinned around a mouthful of him. Making him forget words was very good for my ego. I made a light humming sound, and he let go of the handle above us to fist his fingers in my hair.

  I took him deeper and he grunted before pulling me away from him and urging me to my feet. “Those York Peppermint Patty things.” His blue eyes were flame-bright as he kissed me hard. There was no room for niceties.

  It was messy and harsh and wonderful.

  Distantly, I filed away the information and let him sweep me from my thoughts into just feelings. Wild, turbulent ones that only had one outcome.

  Us naked.

  And I was very okay with that.

  He swooped me up in his arms and tossed me over his shoulder. “That’s it. I’m freezing my bollocks off and even your impressively beautiful mouth can’t combat that.”

  I laughed as he hopped down onto the snow, and wobbled his way to the house.

  “Have those boots ever seen snow?”

  “They have now.” He brought his hand down on my ass and I screeched out a laugh. He put me down just before the door and we tumbled across the threshold in a tangle of legs and arms and kisses.

  Laughter was only beaten out by moans as we stumbled our way down the hallway again to my room to try out the last condom he had with him.

  Oh, how we made good use of it.

  When I was fairly sure I’d never be able to walk again, we raided the kitchen for a frozen pizza. I even convinced him to try a few of my ice creams.

  He showed me a few different concoctions that I’d never have thought of without his input. Between the two of us, we managed to make a batch of salted caramel and chocolate swirl.

  A text from my brother gave me the last reprieve of the day. He was buried in a project at the shop and wouldn’t be home until late.

  I wasn’t even ashamed of stealing one of his condoms from the medicine cabinet. He wouldn’t miss it. Maybe.

  By the time Rory had to leave, there were no awkward pauses. I couldn’t even be mad that he was leaving. I was lucky enough to have a wonderful memory to pull out when I was old and gray.

  When I was a crazy single woman who’d enjoyed an intense fling with an inventive Irish lover.

  He kissed me at the door. Long, lingering kisses that made my lips tingle and my chest ache.

  Maybe his chest ached a little too. I would probably never know.

  And then he was gone.

  I didn’t even mind that I had to SOS my best friend to get my car the next day. It was that worth it.

  Nine

  Approximately one month later

  Du
de, where are you?

  The text from Kellan came across my rental car’s dashboard screen—and yes, I’d rented the same model car from the same place, out of some misguided sense of sentimentalism. There was no snow in Crescent Cove now, thank God, but the scenario was already setting up the same.

  I was late due to no fault of my own. Plane issues, missed connecting flight, lack of cars at the rental place. When I’d noticed this little dreamboat was one of two cars still available, how could I say no? It wasn’t as if I was depriving anyone else of it. The rental clerk had shoved me toward it as if she couldn’t wait to see it go.

  To me, it was a sign that this trip would be as eventful as the last. And I’d brought a box of condoms this time just in case.

  Tapping the wheel, I slid into an open spot near the Rusty Spoon and turned off the engine. My blood was already humming at the idea of seeing Ivy—

  No. Wrong. I was merely anticipating another productive session with Kellan. Which was why I’d cleared my calendar this weekend when he’d contacted me and asked if I was available. Professional courtesy of course.

  The condoms didn’t mean I was thinking about Ivy. Naturally not. But I certainly wasn’t thinking about any other women, in Crescent Cove or elsewhere. In the month I’d been gone, I’d barely even noticed any of the other females in my midst. That was saying plenty since I worked with rockstars who paraded around enough beautiful ladies to make the mind spin.

  But not mine. Only one woman had registered with me.

  I reached across the seat to grab my leather portfolio, flipping it open to scan the sheet on the top of the pad inside.

  Surrounded by fire

  Soaked in her glow

  Be with her tonight

  Before I go

  Tomorrow I’ll be on a plane

  Gone far away

  A lock of flame in my pocket

  The words I couldn’t say

  My excuse before was that we were thousands of miles apart. I didn’t have contact info, although that was probably partially my fault. Now I would have no such excuses.