Lucky Baby (Crescent Cove Book 11)

by Taryn Quinn

  Immediately, I pictured Jimmy’s cocky swagger with his sunny hair flowing down his back. Those thick, myriad shades of blond strands had been my favorite thing to tangle my fingers in.

  And then to pull when the hot fever of need had blown wild and fierce between us for that secret month in July.

  “Not Jimmy.”

  He’d been my brother’s best friend since they’d met during smoke jumper training. They were the youngest guys to be added to the Alpha team for his unit.

  Jimmy and Cohen had been inseparable until that summer we’d had a very ill-advised fling that had ended in a blade I hadn’t seen coming. I’d nursed the wound alone in the mountains of Colorado.

  My family didn’t know what he’d done. Now they never would.

  And it didn’t matter.

  I sucked back the sob that was trapped in my chest like a frightened bird. The only thing that mattered was my brother.

  Ezra’s voice dragged me back from the past. “Cohen isn’t doing great. We had to kick his ass to even get him into rehab.”

  Get it together, Burns. “Why the hell didn’t you call me sooner?”

  “He didn’t want to worry you.”

  “Damn idiot.” They still treated me like I was twelve. “How bad is he?”

  “Just a busted leg, but it was a serious fracture so he’s gotta do the whole physical therapy thing. He should be done the first week of December. I figured your place would be a good place to plant him for awhile.”

  “Of course.”

  The words came out before I could think better of it. I mean, of course I’d take in my brother and my family, but my place was definitely not ready for them.

  At all. And neither was I.

  I pushed away the memory of Jimmy’s startlingly blue eyes. His laughter and the arctic chill of his deception vied for dominance. I slammed those memories back into the metal box I’d put them in years ago then hauled myself to my feet and crunched my way back over the shoreline stones to the grass strewn with leaves.

  The half acre of land between the water and my house was a quick trip. It wasn’t a large farmhouse by any means. In fact, it was only a three-bedroom place. Not nearly enough room for all my roughhousing brothers. Even if one was laid up and probably hurting far more than he’d let on.

  “We won’t need much.”

  “Ha.” I snorted. “Right.”

  “Hey, you’re the one who was crowing about how amazing your house was. Now I’m going to hold you to it.”

  Relief warred with sorrow as I tried to get my mind working again. “Yeah, yeah.” I wished I could say I hadn’t. But being the baby of the family and being the first to buy a house had left my ego a little unchecked. “Is Dad coming too?”

  “Yep. The Burns family will be back together, baby. I’ll check in later, Ging.”

  “Okay. Talk soon.”

  I shoved my phone into my pocket then tipped back my head. Tears threatened, but I wouldn’t let them fall for Jimmy. Not ever again. I had one focus right now. And it was a freaking big problem because there was no way I could get this place in shape for them in less than two months on my own.

  The old barn beside my garage caught my eye.

  I’d had plans to call in my chip from Lucky Roberts in the spring. The dude owed me for his harebrained last minute scheme for his best friend’s proposal last month.

  The man was obnoxiously loud, had player stamped on his forehead in neon green, and was far too attractive for his own good.

  He thought he could charm his way out of any problem. I knew firsthand how charm could hide a person’s dark side and could even make you think you’d imagined things that weren’t there.

  But I needed Lucky—well, not Lucky specifically, just his hands and his carpentry skills. I was on a budget, so I’d damn well be cashing in any favors I could to fix up the barn.

  It would be the perfect place to house my brothers, otherwise known as the animals. And fixing up a guest room for my dad in my house was doable with a bit of spit and grit.

  I held open the door for my cat as he zipped around my ankles. Even he seemed uncharacteristically feisty.

  Did he sense that change was in the air?

  No. No change. This was just a temporary speed bump. I could handle this. My brother needed me, and it just so happened I wanted to fix up my place.

  If that meant I needed to deal with Lucky to get it done, then that was what I’d do. I’d make up a plan, get supplies together, and thank God I’d already started the ball rolling when it came to permits.

  Now I just had to go inform Lucky it was time to pay up.

  Two

  I decided to kill two birds with one motorcycle. Queenie, my Triumph, needed a test ride to see if my tweaks on the engine had fixed the noise that was driving me crazy.

  They had not.

  In fact, it was freaking louder. I swung my leg off the bike and resisted the urge to kick it. That rarely solved the problem. Queenie was a refined sort. Brute force wasn’t her thing, and finesse wasn’t my finest quality.

  I toed down my double kickstand as I flicked open the chin strap on my helmet and gave a disgusted huff before I tugged it off. The crisp fall air felt good, even if my hair was now all over the place. I should have put it in my usual braids, but my brain had been offline since Ezra’s call.

  Dammit, I was normally a planner. I didn’t do things impulsively. I wasn’t even sure where to go to find Thor aka Lucky. He wasn’t quite as bulky as the screen version of the god of thunder, nor did he have the pretty factor, but he did have the hair and drinking aptitude. And to be honest, I wasn’t into pretty boys.

  Not that I had time for them—or guys like Lucky—right now.

  I had a barn to remodel in less than six weeks. I was pretty sure even the Property Brothers would give me grief about that, and they had a huge crew as well as the magic of television.

  I was watching DIY shows by the dozen and still not working on my house. There was a small amount of shame for the fact that I had the Pinterest app on my phone, iPad, and a perpetually open tab on my computer at this point. I could pin like no one’s business, but doing the actual work?

  Yeah. Fuck.

  I was stuck in the planning stages, lost in a jumble of ideas that had no cohesive vision. I could design a car from the tires up, but ask me to pick a paint color and my pits tingled. Now time was up and I couldn’t make excuses any longer.

  I stepped onto the sidewalk outside of Gideon Gets It Done’s shop. I was pretty sure that wasn’t where I’d find Thor, but John Gideon usually knew where his people were. As it was, I should have been at the shop, but I could juggle my projects for a few days if need be.

  I’d called Dare to let him know I’d be out of pocket today. Not that he was my boss, but he liked to think he was. His brother Gage and I let him think so because it made our lives easier.

  Tucking my helmet under my arm, I stepped inside. Macy was sitting on the counter with her legs wrapped around Gideon’s hips. His fingers were twisted in the belt loops of her jeans, and they were going to town like a pair of teenagers.

  The sounder over the door was a screeching bat, which made both of them jump. I dropped my helmet and ducked. “What the hell?”

  Macy’s peal of laughter made me straighten. “That’s your doing, I imagine?” I grumbled.

  “Halloween season!” She slapped Gideon on the ass.

  He groaned. “The sound effects are everywhere. Every doorway, every place of business between us. She’d add them to every project site if I let her.”

  She gripped the front of his shirt and dragged him closer. “Oh, would you?”

  He gave her a quick kiss. “No.”

  “Spoilsport.” Macy pushed him back and hopped down. “I’ll let you work. Missed you this morning, Tish.”

  I picked up my helmet by the strap. “Family stuff.”

  “Oh, I know how that is. My house is chaos.”

  “Your house?” Gideon
leaned his hip on the counter and crossed his arms.

  “Ours. Jeez, so touchy.” She came around the counter and passed me. “It’s mine during fall. He’s just grumpy because I had an awesome new noisy delivery at the house and the Haunt.” Macy sailed out the door with a cackle as the bat screamed again.

  Gideon shook his head. “Good thing I love her.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Gross.”

  He grinned. “Wait until it happens to you.”

  “Dear God, no.” I set my ruby red helmet on the counter. “I’m looking for a man to do only one thing for me.”

  “Father a baby?”

  I would not even dignify that with a response.

  “C’mon, it’s Crescent Cove. Gotta wonder.” He plucked the pencil behind his ear out of his dark curls. “What can I do you for, Tish?”

  “Tell me where to find Lucky.”

  He tucked his pencil back in its perpetual spot and smiled wider. “I thought you weren’t looking for love.”

  “Hell no. He owes me a bet, and I’m ready to collect. It’s a sizable job, so I may need to hire a few of your guys to help out if that’s possible.”

  “We get pretty booked out. How fast are you looking for?”

  “ASAP.”

  He whistled. “Fall is a slower season, but it’s still not easy to shuffle things in a hurry.”

  I bit my lip. I didn’t like using emotional blackmail, but I was desperate. “Look, my brother was in an accident.”

  Worry instantly furrowed his brow.

  I held up a hand. “Not too terrible, but it jacked up my timetable for the renovation I had in mind.” Sure, we’d go with that. I’d definitely had no plan. “He’s in rehab right now for the injury, but he’ll be dropping in on me for Christmas and staying indefinitely. My house isn’t ready, and he probably can’t do stairs anyway.” I sucked in a breath. I was pretty sure this was more words than I’d ever spoken at once since I’d lived in this town. “I bought the old Slide house.”

  “Oh, right. On the lake.” He whistled. “That’s a nice property. We’re nearly neighbors.”

  I patted my helmet and resisted the urge to twitch. Neighbors wasn’t a word I threw around. I rather liked that my house was secluded, and I didn’t want to start doing cookouts or some shit. “Yeah. I can’t believe I own property, to be honest. But the old barn would be a good rec room-slash-guest house for my family.”

  “A great idea. But if I remember right, that place is…” He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly searching for a nice word for my new home.

  “Hellish? Yeah, it needs to be gutted. I already made some calls and have a dumpster coming tomorrow accompanied by some burly football players from the high school who wanted to make some quick money destroying shit.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Wasting no time.”

  “Nope. I have a small window of opportunity. Lucky owes me, so I’m collecting.”

  “He’ll be thrilled.”

  “I bet.”

  “No, he actually will. Lucky might look like a frat boy on steroids from the 80s, but he’s one of the best designers and carpenters on my payroll.”

  “Well, that’s promising. I was just hoping I would have a decent area to frame out to put my brother in there. Maybe a few electronics to keep him occupied.”

  Gideon reached for a folder, then pulled out his keyboard and started typing. “What’s your budget?”

  “I don’t have one.”

  He glanced up, one eyebrow spiking. “As in you expect him to do it for free?”

  I laughed. “No, I mean no limits. I have money to throw at the project to get things moving faster. Over the last three months, I’ve started proceedings on permits and all that.”

  “Huh.” He scribbled something on the folder, then went back to his keyboard. “Well, that makes things easier. Shoot me what you have, and I’ll take care of whatever else is needed to get the ball rolling. Permits are a pain in the ass.”

  “I did some custom work for Earl Jennings over at City Hall. Should make permits a little easier.”

  “Impressive. Maybe I should have Macy create a special blend for him so I could get my permits easier too.”

  “Would help if Earl drank coffee. A Lipton tea bag dunked in hot water for about ten seconds is more his style.”

  He curled his lip. “Fitting,” he muttered.

  I pressed my lips together against a smile. “But he loves his cherry Oldsmobile Cutlass. The engine could take a cop car after what I did to it.” I folded my arms on the counter. “Just don’t tell the sheriff.”

  Gideon shook his head. “The things you learn.” He tapped a few more keys and pushed a form in front of me. “This covers the start to the project. I’ll put Lucky down as project manager. He’s over at the Olsen’s house on Elm Street doing a fence install.” He slapped down a sticky note with an address. “If you want to take a ride out and talk to him, you can.”

  A twinge of something like worry niggled between my shoulder blades. “Give out details on your employees so easily all the time?”

  Gideon crossed his arms. “Word of mouth is king in a small town, but this is mostly a little payback. Lucky losing a bet makes me giddy. Especially since he still owes me forty bucks from our last poker game.”

  “Sucks at poker, huh?” Good to know.

  “He’s actually usually cleaning us out, but Joe, one of my guys, may have doctored his drinks with double shots.”

  I laughed. “Sounds like my brothers.” I scrawled my signature on the contract. “Thanks, Gideon.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. Overtime gets expensive.”

  “Worth it.” I pulled out my phone and took a photo of the contract, then tucked my copy into my inside jacket pocket. Another thing I’d learned long ago—keep paperwork organized. Especially the kind with signatures. I grabbed my helmet. “Talk soon.”

  Gideon gave me a salute, and I rushed out the door. It was only a little after ten in the morning, but I’d been on the phone all day already trying to pull this insanity together. And okay, maybe I’d put off talking Lucky for last, but it was time to face that blond-streaked, large, brutish fire.

  So brutish wasn’t the best word for him. He was just a big, affable steamroller. But I was ready to do some rolling over of my own.

  That had sounded better in my head.

  I fastened my helmet and kicked Queenie’s engine to life. The throttle was off and maybe the timing belt. Nothing that would be earth-shattering for a quick ride out to the suburbs of Crescent Cove. I flicked up my kickstand and eased into the moderate traffic on Main Street. Colorful awnings used throughout the summer for some shade were in various stages of breakdown. Bright pots of mums and pumpkins and the occasional cheerful scarecrow framed out the doorways.

  Drinking stations for the dog-friendly shops shone with fresh water and shop owners waved customers in off the street. School was back in session, leaving the daytime pedestrian traffic a little lighter as well. Sugar Rush had a tower of cupcakes in the window with a huge selection of carved pumpkins surrounding them like a freakish crowd at a concert where the main attraction got eaten. A new store, Vintage December, had quietly opened up with repurposed clothing. Mannequins were decked out in concert T-shirts from the late 80s and ripped jeans had been patched with colorful matching bandanas.

  I was tempted to pull off and and have a look. I had a soft spot for faded jeans that were already broken in the right way, not in manufactured evenly spaced rips and frays.

  A delivery truck blocked the road, giving me a few more minutes to take a closer look. Nope, those were the kind that had been carefully frayed with a razor during times of boredom or creativity, depending on the day.

  Alas, new denim wasn’t on the agenda today.

  Finally, the diesel-belching truck in front of me shuddered forward. I flipped my visor down against the smoke and eased around the death trap when his flashers went on again. A horn behind me had me opening up my throttle to m
ake tracks. The wind off the water sliced through my leathers. Pretty soon, it would be time to put my bike away for the winter.

  I’d picked up a beater at auction for the off-season. No way was I driving my convertible Lucille in the sleet and salt-heavy months of Central New York.

  I eased around the bend and took a side street shortcut to get out of the increasing truck situation. The more picturesque gold and burnt orange array of trees replaced stores as I hit Lake Street. Sun glinted off the water, reminding me why I’d settled here. Day-trippers were clogging up the shoulders of the road, eager to park and look out on Crescent Lake.

  The mansions and foliage were a good stopgap for snacks and a little shopping on their way to the mountains for even more views, but I didn’t mind so much. It kept the town alive.

  I’d lived in plenty of smaller towns on their way to seedy and rundown. Drug dens and meth labs usually followed pretty quickly thereafter. I much preferred the quaint aspect of the Cove, even if I had to slap a smile on my face more than I was comfortable with.

  It was better for business and why I usually left customer service to Gage whenever I could help it. He was the charming one of our unit—well, at least usually. Now and then, he pulled out his inner growl and reminded people how he’d dominated back in his racing days.

  About ten minutes later, I pulled off the side of the road to check my maps app on my phone. I was definitely close to the burbs, complete with little cul-de-sacs and driveways crammed with SUVs. Some still had lakefront views, but for the most part, this was a maze of endlessly circular streets with an army of high-end minivans marching along at exactly fifteen miles per hour. Safe blues and silvers with the occasional pop of sassy burgundy seemed to be the color palette of choice.

  Holy boring. My skin itched to turn around and get out of there. Most seemed to be coming and going with moms, and a few dads, in errands mode.

  “Need some help?”

  I flipped up the visor on my helmet. “Sorry?”

  The cherubic woman in one of the minivans I’d been careful to avoid gave me a dimpled smile. An improbably perfect head of blond ringlets spiraled around her face. Wig? Extensions? Curling iron influencer on Facebook? “Need some help? It can get a little confusing in here. A lot of the roads have the same name with east or west tacked on. Super original, I know.”