Lucky Baby (Crescent Cove Book 11)

by Taryn Quinn

  I could count the number of times someone other than me had driven my truck on one hand. Not that it was surprising she’d be the one. She was magnificent. All that red hair had been scraped back with a rubber band she’d stolen from the checkout counter. It made her angular face even more arresting. She’d stalked to the truck without even a second thought about having me drive.

  Some guys would be offended, but a strong woman always got my dick heading for the happy land of paradise. Probably because I’d learned over the years that women were just as capable as men, if not more so. Ruby had capable stamped all over her in freckles.

  The conversation back into town was nonexistent. She handled the truck like she did everything else—assertively. It was late afternoon and I really needed to get back to the site and clean up.

  I’d left everything where it lay after I found Butch. The oily discomfort hit me squarely in the gut. I knew most people saw me as a good time guy without responsibilities, but over the last few years working for Gideon, I’d found my place. I was dependable when it counted. And the job site was one place I could be counted on.

  I dug out my phone and found a few texts from Gideon. Wincing, I texted back that I’d take care of what I’d left behind.

  But instead of being angry, he just asked about the dog via Kimmie. I grinned at the dog on my lap and snapped a photo to send back to Gideon. Then I told him I’d clean up and finish the job tomorrow.

  “You’re not posting your new dog, are you?”

  I looked up. “That’s an idea, but no. I was just checking in with Gideon.”

  “Oh, right. Yeah, we did kind of just scram.”

  “Yeah, but it’s under control.” Sort of. But I didn’t need to bother her anymore today. This woman hadn’t even thought about saying no to taking care of Butch. From driving to the clinic to paying for her, there had been no hesitation.

  “I’ll pay you back, by the way.”

  She didn’t take her gaze off the road. “Not a big deal. Just glad it wasn’t worse.”

  “Agreed.” The dog was settled in my lap in a shrimp formation, her nose tucked under her fluffy off-white tail. The vet had to shave a few spots that were too matted to clean, but overall, she looked perfect.

  Far too perfect to be a street dog, or whatever he’d called her. Chinese street dog? I stroked a finger along her head. “I wonder if dog DNA works the same as humans?”

  “Why are you a mutt too, Thor?”

  “Probably. I don’t really know.”

  Her gaze whipped to me. “You don’t know?” Those expressive brown eyes were questioning, but a bit softer than I was comfortable with.

  I shrugged. “Dad was MIA, mom was about the same. I lived with my gram for a little while before I hitched a ride out of town. I was around twelve. Can’t really remember. Been on my own ever since.”

  I hadn’t meant to share all that crap. I wasn’t ashamed so much as I didn’t like the looks I usually got—very close to the one she was giving me. Sorrow and pity were not the emotions I wanted between us.

  “I have three brothers and a dad.”

  “Wow.” I couldn’t imagine having that much family. “Wait, did you say three?”

  The corner of her mouth lifted in that almost smile that made my chest tight. “Yeah. All wildly different.” Her affection and exasperation were obvious on her otherwise poker face. “Actually, that’s why I came to see you. My family is coming for Christmas, with one of my brothers staying indefinitely.”

  “I’m assuming this is unplanned?”

  “Understatement.”

  Unused to the passenger seat, I crossed then recrossed my legs. Room was definitely at a premium, and Butch wasn’t happy with my constant moving. He kept twirling around in circles to get comfortable. “Okay, so you talked to Gideon?”

  She nodded. “Started the paperwork there. I already got some permits, but he’s checking to see if I missed anything.”

  Impressed, I laid my hand over Butch’s tiny frame, settling her with a few pats. “Did your homework. Makes my life easier. What are we looking at?”

  She downshifted and came to a stop where Lake Street crossed Route 23. “Probably easier if I just show you. Mind if we go to my house?”

  “Now?”

  “If that’s okay.”

  My to do list had just lengthened. I really needed to get back to my work site, but I owed her—on a number of levels at this point.

  Butch popped up since we were stationary and climbed up to poke her nose against the window. I scratched the top of her head. “Want to make a pitstop at Ruby’s house?”

  Her feather duster of a tail swished excitedly and her whole body vibrated.

  “Guess that answers that.” I hooked my arm around Butch and settled her back on my lap. Were there dog seats like a kid seat? I’d have to check. “I just need to contact Kimmie and reschedule the end of that job.”

  Ruby’s face scrunched. “Who goes by Kimmie?”

  “Right?”

  She smiled at me—the full deal. It transformed her serious lines and reminded me that she was actually a few years younger than me. Maybe more than a few. I’d crossed the thirty bridge last summer. The last fun summer I’d had with Caleb and the boys. Now everyone was shackled with kids and rings, sometimes in that order. It sure was for my boy, Caleb.

  Now he was asking me to stand up in a monkey suit and give him away. Well, not exactly that but it sure felt like it.

  Absently, I tucked Butch up on my shoulder so she could see a bit better. We rounded the bend and a modest farmhouse came out of the fog off the lake. The perpetual gray of Central NY had taken some getting used to when I’d first moved here. Either it was a cloudless sky with perfect lake days or eternal steel gray swollen with rain or snow depending on the righteous mood of Mother Nature.

  Crescent Cove had been the first place I’d called home since I was six years old. Gideon had hired me on with his transient summer workers. He was a fair boss. I’d been a fuck-up with no direction. Bumming around the country doing odd jobs and learning trades with each pitstop had been good enough for a damn long time. When I got tired of one scene, I just moved on.

  I’d discovered I wasn’t much for city living pretty quickly. Those small boxes called apartments always made me feel claustrophobic. Unless it was a tour bus. Then again, I usually wasn’t exactly sober by the time I found my bunk during those years.

  I was good with my hands and learned fast. I’d built stages, learned how to be a guitar tech on the fly, and built the most unlikely friendships. Touring was backbreaking work made for the young or the hungry. I found building more interesting than the often thankless work of being on the crew.

  It had been a lot of fun though.

  Butch yipped, dragging me back from memory lane and into the truck. I reached up and scratched her chest. Even with the angry welts on her face, her little tongue was lolling out with happiness. I waved my hand to dispel the doggie breath. “Gotta get you a toothbrush, B.”

  She agreed with a slathering tongue bath.

  Ruby let out a soft laugh and parked. She slid out and her long-legged stride headed for the separate barn.

  Damn, she had a great ass.

  She turned when she realized I hadn’t moved. I was too busy enjoying the view. “Coming?” she called out.

  “God, I wish,” I muttered and unclipped my seatbelt. I opened the door and Butch leaped off my shoulder, then bounced from my lap to the ground. “Oh, shit.”

  I should have gotten a damn leash. But instead of heading for the hills, she trotted after Ruby.

  I relaxed and jogged after them. Damn woman had legs almost as long as mine. She stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips. I came up behind her and she quickly moved to the side.

  “As you can see, it’s a blank canvas.”

  I reached behind my head to grip my neck. Blank canvas? It was a fucking wreck. The rafters looked half rotten and the roof was…not good. There were a f
ew half framed out sections that held rusted farm equipment. An honest to god hoe and rake that belonged in a horror movie hung on the wall. Moldy hay was strewn across the ground with a bale stuffed in the corner from God knew when. The flutter of wings made me wince.

  Probably bats.

  I glanced at her. “What are you looking for?”

  “I was thinking a rec room-style bottom with maybe a bedroom or two. Actually, the more sleeping room, the better. Three brothers, remember?”

  “Right.”

  She twirled lightly with Butch dancing around her heels. “Pool table, a small kitchen kind of deal, beer cooler, electronics, and maybe a pinball machine or two.” She put her hands on her waist again. “Those are my first thoughts anyway.”

  I walked into the musty, dust-filled space and mirrored her stance. I could see the walls fixed up with some shiplap, which was still a fairly hot commodity these days. A big TV with surround sound, maybe a record player if she was into that kind of retro thing. The roof needed to be replaced for sure, so maybe I could raise it a bit for some extra room.

  “What’s my budget looking like?” Before I got more grandiose plans going in my mind, I needed to know where my ceiling was. “The bones are great, but I’ll need to figure out what the structure looks like.” I slapped the post in the center of the room. I could build around it and frame out the entire recreation space fairly easy. “These kinds of barns were built to last, but only when they’re properly taken care of.”

  She tipped her head and gave me a long look. “Huh.”

  “What?” I turned around and walked back toward her.

  “You really do know what you’re doing.”

  I frowned down at her. “Why the hell would you look to hire me if I didn’t?”

  “I don’t know shit about you, buddy. You walked into my shop and bulldozed me into doing you a favor. Who knows what I was going to get in return? Guys talk a good game—like all the time.”

  I stepped closer to her. “You must be talking to shitty guys, Ruby.”

  She tipped up her sharp chin to meet my gaze. “We’ll see. Come on, I’ll make us some coffee, and we can hash out the details.”

  And then she walked away from me again.

  I looked down at my dog. “I hate when she does that, but I sure do like to watch her go.”

  Butch yipped and followed, leaving me to be the caboose again in our crazy train.

  I took another minute to take some photos with my app that gave me a fair assessment of measurements. I’d do a real measure when I brought my equipment.

  I made some notes on my phone as I crossed her lawn. It was more crabgrass than anything at this point. I made a few more notes about doing a till and reseeding her for the spring. Not much use doing it now, of course. Her porch needed some help as well. I wasn’t sure just how much of a project she was looking for me to do, but I added it to the list of supplies I’d need.

  The property was prime, that was for sure. I glanced over my shoulder at the shoreline less than an acre away from her front door. She had a rickety dock at the edge of her property line. If it were me, I’d put a wide dock instead of just a slip. She didn’t exactly seem like the boating type, but I bet she’d look damn hot in a bikini, sunning on the dock.

  If redheads did that sort of thing.

  Hmm. Maybe in her case, it would be more like one of those flowy girly coverups and a huge hat. Either way, I saw it in my head far too easily.

  I turned back to her house and paused. Was I supposed to knock?

  I scrubbed my palm on my thigh.

  “Get in here, Thor.”

  I sighed and turned the knob. The house practically echoed in its emptiness. I followed Butch’s happy barks to her kitchen. It had a retro feel, mostly because I was pretty sure everything was original to the house. There was an olive green 70s stove with fridge accompaniment and the tile was a hideous muddy brown, but the walls were freshly painted in a safe neutral almond color.

  It was clean—about the only good thing it had going for it.

  I had to duck my head to come in. These old houses weren’t made for men well above six feet like myself. The kitchen island was scattered with coffee paraphernalia. An electric kettle was bubbling as she fussed with a fancy pour over setup. I recognized the black cat on the bag of grounds.

  “So, what kind of brew do you get from Queen Macy?”

  Tish gave me that half smile and turned the bag. It just said Tish in Macy’s slashy handwriting. “Who knows? It’s just good.”

  “Won’t tell you the secret ingredient, huh?”

  “Nope.” She started pouring hot water over the top basket. The rich, sharp scent of coffee hit like a hammer and instantly activated my stomach too.

  “Got any food? I didn’t get to take my lunch.”

  She nodded to the fridge. “Not sure what you’ll find in there, but you’re welcome to it.” She spun to the cabinets next to the stove for a few mugs.

  I had to fold myself in half to peek into her fridge—and found a pizza box from Robbie’s with something they’d use for experiments over at Caleb’s school. I pulled the box out and set it on the island. “Think we need to order a pizza.”

  “Why? I have a…” She trailed off when she caught a whiff of the box. “Okay, maybe not. I have to pay extra to get them to deliver out here so it might take a minute.”

  “I’ll chip in.”

  “Nah.” She pulled her phone out of her back pocket. “I’ll call it in. Anything you hate?”

  “Peppers.”

  “I just want to change really quick.”

  I looked down at my mud and cement-splattered jeans and shirt. “Hmm.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I might have something of my brother’s upstairs you can use.”

  “I’m good.”

  “I’ll check anyway.” And then she disappeared up the stairs off the back of the kitchen.

  The coffee was doing a slow drip deal and I needed to distract myself or I’d eat the Formica. I wandered away to check out the rest of the house. Didn’t take me long. The rooms echoed, but damn, she had good light.

  I took out my phone and started plugging in a few ideas for her living space. I stopped cold when I got to her living room. A seventy-inch television was bolted to the wall and a massive leather sectional was set up with one of those raised coffee table things. A Diet Coke and massive sketchbook sat on the table.

  Butch was on the arm of the couch, curled into her shrimp formation and snoozing away. I scratched the top of her head and she sighed before snoring once more.

  Nosy as fuck and good with it, I turned the pad so I could see what she’d been working on. It was a series of drawings of the same car. There was one larger drawing shaded with some sort of heavy chalk in matte black with a lighter gray to show off edges and details. The matte black made the powerful car seem even more imposing. I picked it up to get a better look and realized it looked like the Batmobile crossed with something older and classier. There were various smaller drawings around it that emphasized specific details. Headlights with badass lines, wheels with stunning custom rims, and a grill that I could practically hear the growl of a high performance engine through.

  “It’s a Phantom Rolls I’m doing a custom body for.”

  I turned toward her voice and gave her a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “It was right there.” I set down the sketchbook.

  “No big. I’m not precious with my drawings.” She tossed me a shirt then tucked her hands into the pockets of an ancient pair of jeans with frayed holes all over. She wore a T-shirt with a zombie Care Bear holding a knife.

  “Thanks.” I looked down at the shirt. It was a plain navy T-shirt with an aquarium logo. “Yours is cooler.”

  “If my shirts fit you, I’d cry.”

  I barked out a laugh.

  “Now if you come near my actual prototype sketches, I’ll deball you before you can blink.”
r />   I cleared my throat. “Good to know.”

  “Bring the sketchbook. We can use the kitchen island to figure some shit out.” She turned to head back to the kitchen, her bare feet silent on the hardwood floors.

  I was beginning to think she liked walking away from me.

  Before I forgot, I made a note about the floors. They were in good shape and probably just needed a bit of a refinish to bring them back to their former glory. I slipped the pad under my arm then tucked the bottom of the T-shirt in my back pocket.

  I followed her into the kitchen and set the sketchbook on the island. She was cleaning up the coffee thing at the sink. I came up beside her. “Think I could clean up a bit?”

  “Bathroom is—hey, that way, Thor.” Her brown eyes were wide with shock.

  I nudged her aside and pulled my tank off. “I just need a little water. You’re done, right?”

  She turned her face away from my naked chest so fast her ponytail whipped my arm. Damn if I didn’t want to wrap all that hair around my fist and give it a little tug.

  “What? You have three brothers, right?”

  She stumbled into the island before scrambling around the other side.

  I grinned over my shoulder. “Problem?”

  “No, of course not.” She picked up her mug and drank deeply.

  I used the inside of the shirt to scrub at my neck. I’d need a shower to get the worst of it off me, but I was used to being dirty. I looked around for the garbage. The shirt was beyond saving.

  “Under the sink.”

  “Right.” I quickly washed my hands and my face with the Dawn on the ledge above her sink. Thankfully, there was a roll of paper towels beside me. I turned around and found her staring hard at the ugly Formica.

  I hid a smile behind the towel before I threw both away.

  “So, what did you have in mind? Just the barn?”

  She glanced up then back down.

  I had to admit I was surprised she was so nervy. I shoved my arms through the sleeves of the shirt she’d given me and tugged it on. It was tight as fuck and the bottom of the shirt barely hit my buckle. “How big are your brothers?”