Rockstar Baby (Crescent Cove 6)

Normally.

It wasn’t like there were no attractive men in the Cove, just none that actually made my heart race. I peeked out into the diner to make sure he was okay. He was holding his phone up close to the window. Good luck finding a signal in this storm.

Then I burned the toast and had to trash it.

Pay attention to the food, Ivy. Not to the dude outside.

I poured a juice and a water and backed out through the door.

“Here we go. Your food is almost ready.” Only a little bit of a lie.

“Is there a big dude named Mick in the back?”

“Close. His name is Mitch.” Except Mitch was probably sound asleep next to his fireplace right now.

“Of course it is.” The way his accent slipped around the vowels of his words made something flutter in my chest. Energy, happiness…lust?

Maybe.

Interest more than lust perhaps.

Lust wasn’t for girls like me. I was the forever girl. The one who would marry a teacher and pump out two kids.

The kids part intrigued me, not so much the teacher. Not that it had to be a teacher, but the only guy who had hit on me lately was one of my brother Caleb’s friends. Mark was just like my brother and pretty much hit on anyone with a pair of tits. And those kinds of guys didn’t interest me.

At least not right now.

I was used to being the buddy and that sweet girl from the diner. Old people patted my hand and left me a dollar under their coffee cups as if they were giving me the world.

Not him.

He looked at me as if I was a woman. I mean, I was, but being twenty-four and looking like a perpetual teen got old sometimes.

His golden lashes swept down as he took in the snug line of my polyester pants. I’d pregamed my trip to the bar with a few glasses from Kinleigh’s perpetual box of wine at her clothing store. It had taken very little prodding for me to dive into her retro trunks at the back of her store. Sure, most of us used those particular trunks for Halloween, but we’d giggled our way into outfits and wobbled to the bar on ridiculous platform heels.

Kinleigh was one of my best friends, and she was forever trying to give me a makeover. I was suddenly very glad I’d listened to her clothing suggestions for once. The platform shoes were surprisingly comfy though. I might keep them. I liked the extra four inches without the accompanying pain as well.

Too bad the margaritas had mostly worn off on my walk to the diner.

I might need some of that courage to get through his meal. Mitch usually had an emergency bottle of whiskey stashed in the flour pantry.

Then again, I didn’t want to rush my customer. He’d be gone and I’d be back to taking my frustrations out on bread dough again.

“Does that work back there?” He nodded toward the jukebox with a hopeful glint in his eyes. “Or just pre-programmed?”

“Nope. Fully functional. If you’ve got the quarters.”

His eyebrows snapped down. “Who carries quarters?”

I patted my tiny pocket. The pants really weren’t made for anything other than showing off my butt. “I don’t have much in the way of tips, seeing as I was SOS’d from my boss to fill in for the usual night girl.” I curled my finger around the two quarters I had in my pocket from my one drink at the bar. Unfortunately, I’d had to pay my way there as well. No one had bought me drinks. “However—”

He held his hand up. “I can pay my own way, love.”

“You have quarters?”

“Well, no.”

“Cash?”