He glanced up, locked eyes with me just long enough to show his gratitude before his gaze went to his wife. He lifted a tiny bundle wrapped in my aunt Reagan’s frilly guest bathroom towel and placed him into Honor’s outstretched arms. Laney helped her bring the baby to her chest and I got my first look.
Beautiful.
Purple. Covered in white muck. Screaming his little lungs out.
I stopped looking at my nephew and looked at my wife and I realized she’d been right. Even though Honor’s painful screams had only ended seconds before, I couldn’t remember what they sounded like. My sister-in-law was now cooing at her newborn son and she looked the picture of serenity.
And that was how Carter Hudson Lenox came into the world. It was loud, it happened on a kitchen floor, and it was the perfect way to end a perfect day.
* * *
“I still can’t believe that happened,” Delaney said as I helped her into my truck.
“It was pretty amazing.”
“He’s so little.”
“Laney baby, he was almost nine damn pounds, and did you see that kid’s head? Christ, that was intense and I knew Honor was in some serious pain, but holy fuck. You sure you don’t want pain meds?”
“Nope.”
There was nothing to say, she was crazy. So I said nothing and simply smiled at my wife.
“Love you, Delaney.”
“Love you, Carter.”
I let her sweet voice wash over me and I smiled.
Finally everything was the way it was supposed to be.
Delaney and Carter.
I helped her with her seat belt and when she was done buckling, I placed my hand on her belly.
“I love you, too, Little Man.”
35
Quinn
My family was driving me berserk.
It had been three months since the crazy bitch, Dana Lowe, shot at me and everyone was still harping on it.
She shot at me, she didn’t shoot me.
God knows, I love them all but they were exhausting me.
My father was the worst of the bunch. He was so over-the-top my mom had a talk with him. Especially after I told him I was moving out. Now, one may ask why an almost twenty-four-year-old woman was still living at home with her mom and dad. The answer was easy, my mom was a good cook.
Okay, so that was part of the reason. The truth was I’d had some trouble finding myself. My family called me a free spirit, my dad called me flighty. That may sound mean, but he meant it in the nicest way you could mean it, calling someone irresponsible.
He’d been a little right. I’d taken my sweet ass time finding what I wanted to do with my life because I had what most of my friends didn’t. A tribe. A support team around me that loved me unconditionally. And as much as my dad joked about me living with him until I had to put him in a nursing home—a thought that never meshed with the image of Jasper Walker—he’d been beside himself when I told him I’d found an apartment.
Then he went into crazy, overprotective dad mode and insisted he check out my new place before he’d “allow” me to move in.
So now my parents were officially empty-nesters after having a kid or kids in the house the last thirty-two years. And to say my parents were taking advantage of their childless home was an understatement. It hadn’t even been twenty-fours after I’d moved the last of my stuff out when I went home and walked in on something no child should ever see. Thankfully I’d heard what I’d heard and stopped dead in my tracks before I’d turned and marched my happy ass right back out.
But I’d heard enough to turn me off sex for at least five years, and I’d need double that in intense psychotherapy.
I was walking up the stairs to my apartment, one of the many things Dad hated about my building. There was no security. All of the apartments were in clusters of eight. Four downstairs and four up. One set of uncovered, out-in-the-open stairs led to a landing. Two apartments on one side and two on the other side. I kinda liked I only shared one wall with a neighbor. I also had a kickass balcony that had a view of the wooded area behind the building.
Another safety hazard according to my dad—I lived in the back of the complex. But that was why I chose this unit. All the others either looked at the parking lot, the pool, or the clubhouse. And as cool as a view of the pool would be, I didn’t want to hear people swimming.
I was carrying five bags of groceries, not wanting to make a second trip down to my car, when my foot slipped. I was teetering back, getting ready to whirlwind my arms in a circle, but with the weight of the bags, I’d get them above my head.
Shit.
“Whoa, there, darlin’. I gotcha.”
A strong arm came around to steady me, warm, minty breath fanned across my cheek and the back of my neck, and lastly, but certainly not least, a wall of muscle pressed against my back as the mystery man behind me braced my would-be fall.
“Holy hell. I think you just saved my life,” I muttered.
The man behind me stiffened and I turned to look over my shoulder and we came face-to-face.
Face-to-face. Nose only inches away from none other than Brice Lancaster.
Hot guy firefighter who worked with my best friend Jackson at the 57.
Now, I’d known Brice for a few years—he was a man-whore to top all man-whores. I didn’t know what he was doing here and I prayed he wasn’t visiting one of his babes because that would suck. Not that the relationship would last, considering, as I’d mentioned, he was a dawg. But no girl wanted to see the hot guy firefighter she’d been drooling over, even if it was in a distant, too bad you’re a dog because you are hawt, sorta way, dating some other girl in her apartment complex.
“Quinn?”
“Uh, yeah.” My brows shot up because he was looking at me with such a startled expression it was kind of funny. “You okay?”
“Are you?”
“Well, yeah, thanks to you.”
He still hadn’t let me go and I wasn’t sure if he was cognizant of the fact his hand was on my stomach and he was pressing in. I should’ve asked him to move his hand, since according to Jackson it’d been all sorts of places I was very positive were unsanitary, therefore I wasn’t sure I wanted it on me. But I’d decided to push that out of my head and enjoy the feel of him.
He smelled freshly showered with a hint of manly cologne. In short, he smelled divine. And now that I knew who was behind me, I could confirm the wall of muscle that was pressed to my back was a wall. A big, cinderblock wall with rebar reinforcement. I’d seen him shirtless. I knew what I was talking about. There was so much to talk about, if anyone could lift my five-year ban of sex since I’d heard my parents doing it, it was Brice.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
Ugh. He was probably checking to make sure I wasn’t friends with his latest piece. Jackson had also been helpful in enlightening me that Brice never slept with a friend of a friend. Business and pleasure are always separate. That’s what Jackson told me Brice had said. It was better than the typical male saying of, ‘I don’t shit where I eat’, because come on, that was just downright disgusting. And I didn’t feel that needed to be a “saying”—wasn’t that just plain old common sense?
I mean, who the hell shit where they ate? No one did. Gross.
“Quinn?”
“Oh. Sorry. I live here. Just moved in a few days ago.”
“Here?” Now his brows were knitted in confusion.
“Yep. Apartment fifty-one A.”
“You always tell strangers your apartment number?”
“What’s wrong with you? You’re not a stranger.” He didn’t say anything so I asked, “Why are you here?”
“I live here.”
“You do?”
“Yep. We’re neighbors.”
Oh, no.
I could control myself around Brice because I only caught sight of him every blue moon. A Brice sighting was damn near as fabled as seeing a sasquatch. It was rare, it was only in passing, an
d normally lasted only a blink of an eye. And no one got a picture. And I’d seen him working out at the station, if there’d been any way human or otherworldly to snap a photo, I would’ve.
But alas, he was elusive and normally bolted the second I was around.
Him being my neighbor was not going to be good. Even knowing his reputation of blowing through women.
“Welp. This should be fun,” I muttered.
“It’s gonna be something, Quinn.”
His deep voice rumbled and my body shivered.
No, this was not going to be good at all.
Riley’s Rebels
If you are interested in joining Riley’s Rebels Facebook reader group we’d love to have you.
Riley’s Rebels
Riley’s Rebels newsletter sign up here:
https://www.subscribepage.com/RRsignup
Also by Riley Edwards
Romantic Suspense
Gemini Group
Nixon’s Promise
Jameson’s Salvation
Red Team
Nightstalker
Protecting Olivia - Susan Stoker Universe
Redeeming Violet - Susan Stoker Universe
Recovering Ivy - Susan Stoker Universe
Rescuing Erin - Susan Stoker Universe
Romancing Rayne - Susan Stoker FanFic
The Gold Team
Brooks - Susan Stoker Universe
Thaddeus - Susan Stoker Universe
Kyle - Susan Stoker Universe
The 707 Freedom Series
Free
Freeing Jasper
Finally Free
Freedom
The Next Generation (707 spinoff)
Saving Meadow
Chasing Honor
Finding Mercy
Claiming Tuesday
Adoring Delaney
The Collective
Unbroken
Trust
About the Author
Riley Edwards is a bestselling multi-genre author, wife, and military mom. Riley was born and raised in Los Angeles but now resides on the east coast with her fantastic husband and children.
Riley writes heart-stopping romance with sexy alpha heroes and even stronger heroines. Riley's favorite genres to write are romantic suspense and military romance.
Don't forget to sign up for Riley’s newsletter and never miss another release, sale, or exclusive bonus material. https://www.subscribepage.com/RRsignup
Facebook Fan Group
www.rileyedwardsromance.com
Acknowledgments
To all of you – the readers: Thank you for picking up this book and giving me a few hours of your time. Whether this is the first book of mine you’ve read or you’ve been with me from the beginning, thank you for your support. It is because of you I have the coolest job in the world.
Adoring Delaney: The Next Generation Page 26
