Love, Baby: a Crescent Cove Romantic Comedy Colletion

by Quinn, Taryn

  “Like it’s a freaking One Direction concert.”

  “What? Oh my God.”

  “I sold out of all my ice cream. The diner has an hour wait for a stool at the counter. Women are planting themselves on the grass near the gazebo with freaking long-range lenses and binoculars.”

  “No, they aren’t.”

  “Pinkie swear.”

  “Will you sit down or something?” I pushed her out of the doorway of the freezer and pulled over my rolling chair I used to do paperwork at my hidden corner desk.

  She sat gratefully. “Do you have any of that special Gatorade?”

  I spun and went to my restaurant grade fridge. I’d kept a six-pack of low sugar grape Gatorade for her since she passed out on us in the height of summer. Damn tin can of an ice cream truck was a sauna. Of course now it was chillier than my apartment, thanks to August, her big brother, and Rory Ferguson, her fiancé. They’d jerry-rigged a super conductor of an air conditioning unit for the truck so she could withstand even the craziest of pregnancy hot flashes.

  I twisted off the top and handed the bottle to her. “At least the entire town is making out on this shitshow.”

  “Kinleigh convinced my brother to help her bring racks of clothing and her trunks out to do a sidewalk sale. It’s like a festival out there.”

  “Festival of women on the hunt for single dads.”

  She laughed. “Pretty much. Add in all the Instagram stories that everyone is sharing and tagging your café and it’s getting ridiculous out there.”

  I only knew what an Instagram story was because of Clara. She’d convinced me to get an Instagram account for the café and she managed it. She always had a damn camera in my face.

  “The last I heard two of the local news vans were taking up residence just past the park.”

  “Good God.”

  “Macy?” Clara peeked her head into the kitchen. “Councilwoman Whitaker is here.”

  “Crap.”

  Ivy finished her drink and handed me the bottle. “I’ll head her off. Give you a second to breathe.”

  Was I really going to let a heavily pregnant woman run interference for me?

  Ivy straightened her apron and grabbed the handle of the hand truck, dragging ice cream behind her. Then I caught a glimpse of the crowd of people in the coffee shop.

  Yep. I sure was.

  I plopped my ass down at Ivy’s chirpy and friendly voice. “Have you tried my newest ice cream, Irene? Why don’t you come out to my truck?”

  “I really need to speak with Macy.”

  “She’s elbows deep in coffee grounds. She’ll be out in a few.” The door swung shut and I rolled forward to rest my forehead on my knees. First, to stretch out my back which was screaming. And secondly, to prevent me from actually screaming.

  I was not going to look on Facebook. I had three-thousand things to do and about fifty customers waiting for drinks. It would be a banner sales day, thanks to that idiot man who evidently couldn’t keep a shirt on.

  I stared at the floor for three minutes before I caved.

  “Dammit.”

  I pulled out my phone and opened to Facebook. I didn’t even have to dig for the damn post. It was at the top of the page and had been reshared a staggering seven-thousand times.

  I tapped on the picture to open it all the way. Were people that—

  “Jesus.”

  It was John Gideon, all right. It was obviously a candid shot and from that vantage point, the photographer was either a shorter woman, or maybe a kid.

  In the first shot, he was stripping off his T-shirt in that stupidly sexy way men had. The reach back and drag it off kind of move that had been murdering women for a millennium. It showed off all his ripples of muscle and a surprisingly cut bit of sin lines just below his belt. Why was that little bit of flesh always the most delicious thing on a built man?

  I wasn’t exactly the kind of woman who drooled after men, but I was still a flesh and blood woman. And while cobwebs were threatening to take over my girl dance space, there weren’t enough to combat that photo.

  Or the second picture where he was arching a brow at the photographer, which somehow was even hotter. His look of dubiousness was far more attractive than a cocky smile.

  All that was hiding under his standard white T-shirt? That seemed cruel.

  I clicked the photo closed. The cruelest part was that he was a freaking liar who didn’t think having a daughter was a tidbit of information he should have disclosed before we played tonsil hockey. Or hey, maybe anytime over the last two years that we’d been flirting.

  Maybe I was more of a fool than I’d thought. Again.

  Five

  I was a guy who ate, slept, worked, took care of his kid, and crashed on the couch with coffee and SportsCenter and considered it the good life. I rarely dated, mostly by choice. It wasn’t that I was bitter after my divorce so much as wary. My judgment could be questionable, especially when lust was added to the mix, so it was better if I just scratched the need when absolutely necessary and stayed single file the rest of the time.

  The idea of using a dating app to meet someone horrified me. People lied and exaggerated and played games when you got to know them face to face. To start it all off online seemed like asking for trouble.

  Clearly, the universe was now having a fine laugh at my expense.

  I drove up behind The Haunt just before five am on Thursday. Karen had come over super early because she had afternoon classes, so I’d promised to return shortly after lunchtime. Assuming I could get back out. The only reason I could actually get in now was because many of the horny vampiresses were sleeping.

  Or resting up for their next onslaught. Whatever.

  Actually making it into the building without being verbally accosted seemed like a damn miracle. Maybe today would be a better day. Surely, they would get tired of stalking a man who didn’t want their advances soon enough.

  I just didn’t understand what their purpose was. There was nothing that unique about me. Was the fact that I had a job and cared for my daughter that remarkable?

  “Yes,” Murphy Masterson aka Moose said as he replaced some floorboards near the wide picture windows in front of the restaurant.

  We’d put up blackout curtains to cut down on the foot traffic outside, which meant we were using approximately fifteen spotlights around the place to give the effect of daylight. We had a finish carpenter helping us out, as well as a member of Macy’s small hand-picked design team overseeing things, and simulating natural light was a must.

  Ideally, we’d be able to let the real sunshine in, but God forbid someone catch me mopping my sweaty brow with the hem of my T-shirt. I didn’t want to keep an ambulance on call.

  I leaned against my ladder and guzzled water before rolling the bottle against my neck. “Okay, I’ll bite. Why? If women were so hot for the blue-collar types, you wouldn’t have turned to online dating and Lucky wouldn’t be haunting the bars on a nightly basis.”

  “I have no need to haunt anything, son. Just walking down the street is an opportunity for me to star in my very own pornographic romantic comedy.”

  I just kept drinking my water.

  “You’re forgetting the most important ingredient.” Moose pivoted to face me, his shirt dotted with sweat. Yet another pheromone-inducing event for the women outside. Thankfully, they weren’t able to see in. “When I started online dating—although that was not quite like you’re suggesting, since I knew Vee already—I didn’t have a kid. That’s the accessory they all want.”

  “All women want children?” I snorted. “Not hardly. In fact, I can think of one who thinks having a child is worse than being chased by Michael Myers.”

  “Macy,” they both said in unison. Even a couple of the other guys chimed in from their different spots around the room.

  “No, I didn’t mean all women want kids, although it seems as if the population of Crescent Cove is a bit more child-friendly than your average small town. Bu
t women want good providers. Not even because they can’t provide for themselves, because look around. They sure can. It’s just the bedrock of a good human being, someone who does his duty.” Moose reached for his level. “Similar thing to why many women find military men so attractive. Vee explained it all to me one day.”

  “Did she explain why if that’s the case, it takes a post to make them all come swarming? I’ve lived just outside the Cove for years, and I’ve worked within the town and shopped here quite often. Yet all of a sudden, they’re fighting each other to get a piece of me?”

  Moose dusted off his hands. “Well, the spirit of competition motivates a lot of people. Now you’re a prize to be won. Getting a date with you is a victory that will set them above their fellow contestants.”

  I barely stifled a groan. “Contestants? Is this a game show?”

  “If it is, Macy is not playing. Yet she’s the one you want, isn’t she?” Lucky nudged Joe at his side. “They talk about hard nuts to crack. Dude, that chick is a nut surrounded by titanium with a platinum chastity belt. Your abs are impressive, but I don’t think they’re quite enough to make her swoon. Sorry. Mine, on the other hand…” He pulled up his own sweaty navy shirt and eyed his eight-pack. “Yeah, I feel like I need a kid, stat. That line out there would be three deep across if I could come up with one.”

  “Try eBay,” one of the guys in back suggested.

  “Hey, Moose, you seem to have extras in the child department lately. When those twins come out, how about you sell me one? Just for a weekend. So…like rent. I’ll give it back, promise. It’s not like I want one for real.” Lucky shuddered.

  “Hate to break it to you, but you can’t just hold a kid and think it counts as parenting. It’s a long-term commitment. Women are not stupid. You using a child as a prop will fool no one.”

  Lucky covered his ears. “Listen, dude, I don’t like to hear the word commitment from women, so I definitely don’t want to hear you say it to me in regard to children.”

  “Trust me, no one wants to hear it from you either.” Dahlia, Macy’s design expert, strode up to the built-in shelving unit Lucky was constructing on the far wall. The idea was for it to hold all manner of seasonal dishes and spooky memorabilia. “This unit needs to be twice the size. Consult your schematics.”

  She strode off, jet black fall of hair swinging. Lucky tried to roll his tongue back in his mouth and failed.

  “Everything with Lucky is small. That’s why his mouth is so big.”

  Lucky flipped a random middle finger over his shoulder at whichever member of the crew had waded into the fray this time. “I have schematics?”

  Rolling my eyes, I strode to the bar and grabbed the paper in question. “Yeah, you do, and you better get to expanding that built-in. When it comes to Macy and witchy shit, think more, not less.”

  As if her name had conjured her, a commotion sounded at the pass-through door between the restaurants. My skin started to buzz as if I’d just taken a hit of her coffee. Which I had not done in several days, not wanting to see if she’d made it for me every morning as she had until she’d laid her lips on me and found out I was Benedict Arnold Daddy. Or whatever she called me in her private moments.

  I didn’t want to know.

  Macy moved aside the boards we’d put up to keep her out and hacked through the tape we’d wrapped over the opening to stop her from peeking. She was using a machete or something smaller and just as deadly.

  “I don’t want to hear it,” she said to the nearest crew member who tried to admonish her. “I pay the bills for this operation. From five to five, I own you, sucker.”

  Joe lifted his hands and shot me a glance as he backed away from the door. “You deal with her, man. She’s a tornado.”

  “You better believe it, and he’s not going to deal with me either. I am here for a status report. My restaurant is due to open in,” she consulted a paper in her hand, “sixty-two days, and I want to know how things are going.” She stopped stomping across the room and pointed at Lucky’s built-in. “What is this for, a miniature dollhouse? I wanted big. That is too small.”

  “Same thing Lucky heard last night,” someone called.

  “He’s been advised that’s not to proper scale and will make adjustments.”

  Macy zeroed in on me. “Shouldn’t that size issue have been noticed before he got that far?”

  “Hey, don’t be rude to the little fella. He’s been dealing with those comments all his life.”

  Lucky ignored Joe and turned to Macy. “Look, you have a problem with my work, you talk to me. I’m not twelve.”

  “Okay then, let’s chat.” She stepped right up to him and got in his face as well as she could, considering he was more than half a foot taller than she was and tended to loom over people in an attempt to dominate them. But there was no using his size to make Macy submit. She would’ve gone toe to toe with the devil himself.

  I didn’t find that ridiculously sexy. Oh, hell, who was I kidding? She made my fucking head light, just from watching her jab her finger in Lucky’s barrel chest.

  “I was clear as a bell what size I wanted that built-in. So, fix it.”

  “I will fix it. I stand behind my work. There’s no need for you to come in here like your balls are too heavy to carry and you need to throw them around.”

  Macy narrowed her eyes. For a second, I thought she might really haul back and hit him. Instead, she started to laugh. And she did hit him, but it was just a friendly jab in the shoulder. “All right, dude. Do your thang.”

  I wasn’t sure which of us was more surprised. I’d been prepared to step between them if need be.

  Maybe a blow to the head would knock some sense into me regarding Macy. Nothing else had.

  Macy turned toward me and blew out a breath that ruffled the loose strand of hair that had escaped her braid. “I’m sorry, Lucky, but Calendar Boy here and his legion of admirers have me all messed up. I’ve had to hire more staff, and we damn well know I won’t have a use for them once he puts his cannon back in its holster.”

  “Oh, yeah, and what’s going to do that? Since all he’s done is sulk and fuck shit up all week.” Lucky shrugged when I cut him a look. “Just saying. I don’t see how us hiding in here as if they aren’t all attached to the windows outside is going to help the situation. Gideon has to make a decisive move to put an end to this.” He slipped a hand into the pocket of his overalls. “I do have about fifty of my business cards on me, if that’ll help…”

  Because I knew he spoke the truth—even Lucky had to get it right now and then—I strode to the door that faced the street and undid the locks. Behind me, I heard muttering and a few gasps and a couple of chuckles.

  I flung open the door, and the walkway was not full of women, thank God. Instead, a woman in a trim navy pinstriped suit held a microphone in my face with a triumphant grin. “John Gideon, the DILF of the hour. What do you have to say for yourself?”

  “Fuck off.”

  She blinked, glanced at her cameraman over her shoulder, and not so discreetly made a hand gesture by her hip. As if she’d summoned a murder of crows in a Hitchcock movie, a herd of women stormed toward the building, coming out from behind cars, trees, and even seeming to appear from the grates in the ground. That couldn’t have been true, but a man’s mind tended to play tricks on him when he was about to be swarmed.

  “Call them off,” I said in an undertone, not bothering to disguise my urgency. They were probably all very nice women, but people in groups made me edgy. “If you do, I’ll give you your scoop.”

  “What scoop is that? Are you going to reveal on live local TV that you in fact placed your own Facebook ad, requesting, and I quote, ‘a woman to be your wife who is better at cooking and cleaning than you are’?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut as the sun beat down relentlessly on my scalp. I’d deliberately not read the “ad” Dani had placed, even though I knew I had to deal with it. I had to read it and process that my own offs
pring believed I was so hard up and desperate that she needed to do a mass post requesting female companionship for me—and had insulted my cooking and cleaning while she was at it. Yet she had gleefully consumed my apple pancakes even as she’d posted the blasted thing.

  And I needed to ground her. For using the internet as a dating resource. For lying that I even wanted a date, never mind a wife. For covering up what she was up to with her phone.

  Damn Jessica and her decision to give Dani her old phone in the first place. And damn her for calling me “sloppy” in Dani’s earshot. I’d never been sloppy while we were married, and I sure wasn’t now.

  What I was, though, was pissed.

  “I did not place an ad. Neither did my daughter. She simply wanted to find me a date. It wasn’t advisable, but we were all children once, weren’t we?” When the newscaster didn’t reply, I shrugged. “Okay, maybe not you, but I was a kid and I did stupid things. Not this kind of stupid, but her heart was in the right place. She cares about me and wants me to be happy and not alone for the rest of my life because her mother cheated, and we got divorced.” It was only when the newswoman’s eyes widened that I realized I had seriously gone too far.

  Since I never said too much—and many times, rarely spoke at all—that only proved how rattled I was by all of this. I needed to end it. Now.

  The newscaster motioned for the circling women to stay back and for her cameraman to come in closer. “Lonely, lost, needing companionship, you appealed to your young child to help you find a woman. Is that what I just heard? If it is, don’t be ashamed. Many of us have been where you are. We understand.” She batted her dark lashes a few times too many at me, to the point that I wondered if the glue she’d used to stick them on had clumped.

  I truly did not understand the feminine mystique.

  “I didn’t appeal to anyone. I didn’t need to. You know why? Because I already have a woman.”

  To be fair, I was as shocked to hear the words come out of my mouth as the newscaster appeared to be. An actual gasp went through the crowd. Or that might just have been Lucky, who’d pushed me all the way through the doorway so he could grip the jamb and lean forward to survey the situation.