by Quinn, Taryn
If she allowed me back into her life, I would be a lucky man indeed.
“Yes, it occurred to me. I can’t imagine the amount of men who must want her.”
August’s face reddened. “You are a vile human. Seriously.”
It made me laugh, when I didn’t think I still could. “I’m sorry. Not appropriate considering. I’m just saying she’s a wonderful woman, and any man would be honored to have her at his side.”
August crossed his arms again and lifted a brow, clearly waiting.
“I did everything all wrong with her. Not by design. I came here for work and never expected to meet Ivy. I haven’t—” I blew out a breath. “I haven’t had many relationships, and I don’t have a clue how to do them.”
“That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said since you came in here.”
“Well, it’s brutal truth. I didn’t come to Crescent Cove looking for a girlfriend. I bitterly resented having to come here at all. But meeting Ivy is the best thing that has ever happened to me.” Shaking my head, I smiled ruefully. “Just goes to show, doesn’t it?”
“You really mean that?”
I nodded because I couldn’t speak.
“She’s a sweet woman and I don’t want her to be hurt. She thinks she’s so tough—and she is, believe you me—but she’s vulnerable too. Especially now.”
I frowned. “Why especially now? Because of me?”
God, I hated the thought of that. Hurting Ivy for even a second didn’t sit well with me. She’d given me nothing but joy.
August’s lips quirked. Not in a smile exactly, or a frown. More like a combination of the two. “You could say that.”
“Whatever I’ve done, I’ll make it up to her. I promise. I’ve come here with new resolve.”
“Uh-huh. Because a ladybug changes her spots.”
He had a good point. I was determined to do right by Ivy, but maybe I wasn’t capable of more. I’d been alone for so long, and I liked my life as it was. Perhaps this was all I could hope to have—
I slapped my wrist. August’s eyes widened.
Jesus H, I was going to kill Ian for making me look like even more of an arse. Although the slap had helped to redirect my thoughts.
So, maybe it wasn’t so bad.
“I brought her a sweater from Ireland.” Only once the words were out of my mouth did I realize how foolish they sounded. “My mum made it. For Ivy. Once I told her I was in love with—”
August held up his hand. “You’re in love with her?”
My first inclination was to deny and escape while my stones were still intact. But I couldn’t do that to Ivy. Or to myself. The love I felt for her was so new, like a tender shoot climbing out of a crack in the sidewalk. I couldn’t stomp on it with my boot or it might break.
Ivy could still break it. But I wouldn’t do the honors for her.
“Yes.” I swallowed deeply. “Very much so.”
“And your mother made her a sweater.”
I nodded. “I think she wants grandbabies, although that’s not on the schedule. You know how mums are.”
“Oh, you’d be surprised.” Before I could question him further, he slid his hands in his back pockets. “She’s working on Main Street. You know your way around?”
“Yes. The diner—”
“No, not at the diner. She’s next to Brewed Awakening.”
It was my turn to frown. “Next to the coffee shop?”
“Yes. If you want to see her so bad, go take a good look. See what that woman is made of and what she deserves.” He inclined his chin toward the door. “And if you tell her the details of this conversation, I will kick your ass so hard your mother’s hand will tingle in Kilkenny.”
“Malahide actually, but point taken.” I shifted toward the door and twisted the knob, pulling it open.
It was still sunny outside. Freedom was just a few steps away.
I had survived my first official meeting with the older brother. It could only go up from here.
“Thanks, Auggie,” I said, just to get some of my own back.
“You’re welcome, Rormeister. Now scram.”
I was laughing as I walked down the steps.
My smile still hadn’t faded by the time I reached town. Granted, it wasn’t a long trip. Even so, hope now bloomed in my chest where before there had only been ashes. I’d been so certain she’d called to tell me we were through. Perhaps that wasn’t the case.
Although that raised a good question. If her family was okay—and I had to hope August would’ve told me if they weren’t—and she herself was all right, and there wasn’t a new man on the horizon, why had she called those two times, sounding desperate?
Better question, why weren’t you man enough to listen to her messages when they came in and call her back?
I parked in Brewed Awakening’s lot and got out to look around. I’d noticed before I turned off the car that the building next to the coffee shop appeared to be vacant. A sold sign had been planted on its tidy strip of lawn.
Something new would be moving in soon. But if Ivy was next to Brewed Awakening, where the hell was she?
Then I saw the truck parked between the two buildings. I didn’t know how I’d missed it on the way in. I’d come in on the opposite side of the building, for one, and the alley was surprisingly shady for this time of day.
Better to keep the ice cream from melting.
Ivy’s ice cream.
She’d done it.
The truck was like a rainbow. It practically fucking sparkled as I hurried across the lot and examined it from top to bottom. I couldn’t inhale all the details fast enough, much the same way as I reacted with my ginger fairy’s creations.
She’d done the truck in a jukebox theme. And on the slats where the songs would go on the juke, there was room for flavors. So many flavors. Not all the spots were filled in yet but the ones already there made me grin.
Heart of Choc & Roll
Bon Bon Jovi
Back in Blackberry Pie
Under my Plum
Sweet Child of Mint
All You Need is Lemon
If that wasn’t enough, the name of the truck stretched across the top made me grin until my cheeks hurt.
Rolling Cones.
It was bloody perfect. Just like Ivy.
She’d set up the truck in a music theme and she was bringing her dream to life. Best of all, her dream was something we could share. Because she’d made it mine too. She’d combined both of our loves into this incredible thing.
My mouth was already watering for a taste of her Peppermint Patty.
And that wasn’t a euphemism.
Probably.
This was why she’d called me. To tell me about what she’d accomplished so we could celebrate together.
Oh, how we would fucking celebrate.
The door to the interior was open. I rushed over to it and bounded up the stairs, not concerned about stealth or making an entrance. Or hell, even being able to breathe in that sauna-like truck.
I didn’t care about anything but lifting her up in my arms for a spin. I wanted to laugh with her and kiss her and shower her in the praise she deserved for all she’d built.
Best of all, this was just the beginning.
She stood with her back to me at the sink. I waited for her to turn, to acknowledge me at all. I couldn’t seem to speak. She had on heeled shoes that made her legs look miles long and a plaid miniskirt that caused me to think very unchaste thoughts. Her hair was in braids again, and she wore a white top that barely seemed to contain her curves.
She shifted and I had to swallow a groan. Holy fuck, there were a lot of them. Even more so than when I’d seen her last.
Her full breasts pressed against her tight T-shirt with its broken heart and the word Rebound written across it.
I frowned. Well, that was worrisome, wasn’t it?
But I was here. I could make everything up to her. Ideally, before any rebounds took place.
I couldn’t stop staring at her, sucking down every bit of her as if she was oxygen. The shirt’s hem flirted with her navel, until she shifted just a bit more and it lifted enough for me to fully glimpse her belly.
Her swollen belly.
Christ, what was I seeing? It couldn’t be what I thought. It simply could not.
My knees turned to liquid, and I gripped the doorframe. Spots danced at the edges of my vision.
I was suffering heat stroke. Or worse. So much worse.
Just then, she yanked out her Air Pods and turned her head toward me. Her mouth rounded in shock.
She wasn’t the only one currently experiencing that emotion. I could only manage one word.
“Ivy.”
Twenty
I stared at my paint-splattered hands, still under water in the sink. I’d been washing my brushes, completely in my own world, focused on the Halestorm blaring in my ears. I wasn’t full of rage right now, but I was all about female empowerment anthems at the moment.
Until I’d caught a glimpse of a ghost out of the corner of my eye and that stupidly sexy voice had said my name.
For a second, I’d forgotten I was pregnant.
Forgotten that I wasn’t supposed to feel this wild hope in my chest when I knew Rory was near. The instant that mix of leather and woodsmoke hit me, I was helpless not to smile. To turn to him as if I’d been doing exactly that all my life.
But I wasn’t just thinking of me now. Even if I wanted to run to him and embrace him despite being pissed and hurt he hadn’t called me back, I couldn’t. I had someone else to think about now.
The someone else he was examining via my stomach as if he couldn’t tear his gaze away.
“The truck,” he said hoarsely, still not looking from my belly. It was rather eye-catching since none of my clothes fit right. “You did it.”
“I did.” Every part of me was trembling, but I still threw back my shoulders. “I’m damn proud of it.”
I wasn’t only talking about the truck. I was talking about our—my—baby too. No, I hadn’t planned on it. Certainly not in this circumstance. I definitely hadn’t worked my mind around all the changes my body and my life would go through. But I was still happy. Still glad my baby was here.
If I had to be happy alone, I would be. I’d be happy enough for two people.
Hell, a whole army.
Almost daring him to speak, I cupped my belly. Although the gesture was still foreign, it was becoming more natural every day.
He watched my fingers spread over that growing life inside me and his mouth drew into a tight line. “Is it mine?”
I couldn’t have heard him correctly. It was not possible that this jackass I’d slept with enough times to make a baby—to make half a dozen babies truthfully—was asking if I’d slept with another man.
To my credit, I attempted to answer like a rational person. A simple “yes” would’ve sufficed.
Instead, I picked up the beautiful bouquet of flowers my brother had bought me to celebrate the truck and tossed them at Rory’s head, vase and all.
He ducked. Just barely. And when I let out a sob at what I’d done to my gorgeous flowers, he moved forward to collect them off the ground for me. His pants were wet. Petals clung to his shoes, his shirt. But he still bent to collect them all, holding up a hand when I stepped forward to help.
So, I buried my face in my hands and wept like an idiot.
I was still crying when I heard the clink of the vase being set aside and the thud of his footsteps. I didn’t fight him when he enveloped me in his arms, because that was where I most wanted to be.
Always.
At night in bed, when I was alone and terrified, in the morning when I woke and wasn’t sure how I’d ever be enough for not only myself but a baby who would depend on me for everything. Every time I looked at the door of the diner and hoped he would walk in so I wouldn’t feel so hollow inside.
These crazy, confusing emotions were my daily reality now. Wanting him with me. Missing him. Wishing I wasn’t so foolish to fall for a guy who couldn’t—wouldn’t—fall back.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he murmured, brushing kisses over my hair.
Even that made me react. My body was traitorous and not to be trusted. It was as if I’d become hardwired to respond to his voice. His touch. Those shockingly gentle blue eyes trained on mine as I finally lifted my head.
I moved back because I had to. Keeping my distance was the only way I’d get through this.
“I can’t believe you.”
He scraped a hand through his longer-than-usual hair, the gold and red highlights shimmering from the sun coming through the windows. “I can’t believe me right now either. First time up at bat in how long and I made a baby?”
I narrowed my eyes. “We made a baby. If my eggs weren’t fresh like a prize hen’s, your swimmers would’ve died a fiery death.”
His mouth curved and I thought he might laugh. If he had, I probably would have clocked him with the vase alone this time, sparing the innocent flowers.
“I shouldn’t have asked if it was mine.”
“No kidding.”
“It’s just been months and you called to let me down easy—”
“Oh, no, buster, I did not call to let you down easy. This is your baby as much as mine.” I stepped forward and poked him in the chest. “I don’t want your stupid money for me, but you will provide for your child if there are things that I can’t. Though I’m going to try. I’m going to try to give him or her the fucking world.” I dashed at the tears dripping down my chin yet again with my other hand, smacking at them to make them disappear.
I was not some weak woman who couldn’t take care of her business. I was just so freaking irritated right now that I probably could’ve castrated him with my ice cream scoop and not even felt guilty.
At least until tomorrow.
He gripped my hand and held it tight while his gaze locked on mine. Only then did I see the deep lines around his eyes as if he hadn’t been sleeping well. And the way his shirt hung on him looser than it had in the past.
Had to be my imagination. I was the one who’d suffered during our separation.
Not him. He was the freewheeling playboy living the California lifestyle with all his rocker pals. Being the big shot and spending money while I scrambled for tips at the diner.
“Of course I’ll do my part. I would never shirk my responsibility.” The indignation in his tone soothed the side of me that had worried my income wouldn’t be enough to provide for my child.
No matter how hard I worked, I was starting a new business. Most businesses lost money the first few years, if they even survived. I liked to wear my rose-colored glasses, but I couldn’t right now. Not when I had a baby to consider.
Knowing Rory would be there financially if needed was a relief.
“Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me.”
“You’re damn right I don’t. It’s your responsibility, as you just said. We were both reckless, but I wasn’t reckless alone.”
“Reckless by even having sex at all? We were careful—” He broke off and wiped his hand down the side of his face. “Except that one time I forgot, but I blame the copper for that.”
“How exactly is it fault of the ‘copper’ when we were mid-sex when he arrived?”
“I didn’t even finish!”
“Someone missed their high school health classes. You can get knocked up without the full explosion.”
“There wasn’t even a partial explosion,” he muttered. “I barely got off three strokes.”
“As much as I love this trip down memory lane, that wasn’t when. We timed where I was in my cycle and the baby’s progress and it probably happened the first night we met. If not, certainly the next afternoon. So, you could’ve gotten off eighteen strokes bare, and it wouldn’t have mattered.”
He smacked the inside of his wrist and I jumped. “
Bug?” I craned my neck to peer around the ceiling. “Are there bugs in here?”
“No.” His smile was sheepish. “Sorry. It’s this thing Ian taught me to divert—oh, never mind. It sounds even more ridiculous when I say it out loud.”
I said nothing.
He exhaled and dipped his hands into his pockets. “So, you’re well then?”
I braced my hand against the aching small of my back, which was more from all the work I’d been doing than my pea-sized baby. “We’re doing fine.”
“Yes. Of course. Both of you. That’s what I meant.” He rubbed his hand over his mouth and went back to staring at my belly as if it was radioactive and might spew at any time.
Rolling my eyes, I turned away and returned to my paintbrushes in the sink.
“So, that’s it then? You’re just going to ignore me until I leave?” He swore under his breath. “Can you really blame me for thinking you’d be calling to sever all ties? You gave me your word—”
I whirled to face him with dripping paintbrushes gripped in my fists like swords. “I gave you my word I would tell you if I moved on. I didn’t say I would only call if that was the case.”
He started to argue then fell silent. “Hmm. I guess that’s true then, isn’t it?”
“Bloody idiot.” I turned away from him and went back to rinsing before the urge to commit violence overtook me once again.
“Bloody? My influence is rubbing off.”
He sounded so pleased with himself. So normal. As if this was an everyday conversation.
We hadn’t made a life between us who would need to be fed and clothed. Nope, we could just keep meeting every other month or two until I couldn’t bend over to tie my shoes, never mind kneel to suck his damn dick.
“I get as much influence from Lucifer reruns as I do from you. You know why? Because I can hit play on that show any day I want and he’s in my living room. And you are not. You haven’t been here and you won’t be here.” I ran out of steam at the end, staring blindly at the bubbles in the sink while my throat ached and my eyes burned. But at least no more tears fell.
Small favors.
“I came back for you, Ivy. That’s why I’m here. Not because of Kellan or Ian or anyone other than you.”
