Everything sucked.
Something soft hit me in the back of the head. “Dude, you’re killing me just looking at you.”
I turned to find a tank shirt on the grass at my feet. “I’m not wearing your shirt.”
Lucky stood with his big-ass booted foot propped up on the stack of lumber we were cutting. He guzzled down a beer, making sure he was giving a maximum show for the young mom inside who had been plastered to the window since we got here. “It’s clean. I had it in my bag for the gym later. You need it more than I do. Besides, the ladies don’t mind when I strip down for my workouts.”
“You strip down to breathe,” I muttered and picked up the shirt.
“Was that a crack out of you?” Instead of being insulted, Lucky tipped his head back and howled out a laugh. “Didn’t know you had it in you, choir boy.”
I sighed and swapped my soaked through shirt for the tank. At least it was black. “Piss off.”
“Saucy.” Lucky winked at me. “Good for you. And now you don’t look like you’re going to keel over.” He tossed me a beer and I caught it against my chest. At least I hadn’t dropped it. “Now if you’d drink that, maybe you’d loosen up a little.”
“Leave him alone, Luck.”
I didn’t need Gideon to handle him. I wasn’t a stuck up type or a choir boy. If he saw the murder and mayhem I designed for games, he’d think twice about the church comments. In fact, I’d just sold my fourth Zombie Chasers game to one of the biggest video game outlets in the country.
And it was twisted as fuck.
Because that was how normal people got their aggressions out. Not by stripping for every woman to stare at them in a five-mile radius. Lucky was barely twenty-four, but he was massive and had enough testosterone for three guys. I might have lost a lot of the computer geek softness of my college and grad school days, but I’d never be the guy taking selfies of their abs.
Ever.
Kind of like Lucky did through his lunch break to get people to hire him as a personal trainer.
If my girl wanted to see me without a shirt in dim light, then well…that would be okay. If I had a girl. Maybe.
Someone like Vee.
I was officially pathetic.
I’d stopped by the café after work yesterday and it had been mobbed. Everyone had been buzzing about Vee and her post on The Cove, our town Facebook group. Wondering what a nice girl like her wanted with a child out of wedlock. Crescent Cove still had a lot of old school people living there.
Others joking about how they’d love to take her up on the offer.
Still others with a far darker level of discussion.
Before I punched someone dead in the face for talking about her like that, I’d had to leave.
And now I had her note burning a hole in my pocket.
I’d had nightmares that she wouldn’t reply then there it was. Sweet and cute with a side of flirty. Totally Veronica.
Except it felt even more flirty.
Would she still be that way if she knew it was me?
Lucky came over and snatched the beer. “If you’re not going to drink it, I’m taking it back.”
“I didn’t want it in the first place. It’s not even noon.”
“Speaking of, it’s your day to pick up lunches over at the café.” Lucky waggled his eyebrows. “Make sure you let that hot mama barista know you’re single and ready to mingle.” He cracked open the can and tipped it back. “Nothing better than going bareback in a sweet, willing girl.”
I shoved him back a good foot. “Don’t fucking talk about her like that.”
Lucky flipped his hair back and tucked his can into his pocket. “Well, then. You got the hots for the little baker? She’s aching for a baby daddy.”