Rockstar Baby (Crescent Cove 6) - Page 11

We broke eye contact and I laughed as “Paint it Black” filled the space between us. Another song with so much meaning. This time, it was the juke speaking to us since he’d only had two quarters.

I looked down. Since I wasn’t wearing my usual navy shirt, there was definitely no name tag. “Sorry, I’m usually in uniform.” I licked cheese off the tips of my fingers and debated holding my hand out. I wasn’t quite sure I was ready to touch him just yet. “Ivy Beck.”

“Rory Ferguson.”

Yeah, good thing I didn’t go for that handshake. That purring Irish lilt sounded way hotter than it should have. Who even named their kid Rory?

His mom.

His dad.

And they were smart. Because it was different enough to make me take notice. Unfortunately, it also meant I wouldn’t forget it. Annoying. Then again, if the night went where I thought it was going, I wouldn’t forget him anyway.

I was discerning about who I got naked with. In a town where everyone always knew your business, it was just good practice, but I also didn’t often have the urge to do crazy things.

At least not anymore.

My one year in college had been filled with spectacular mistakes, but once I’d gotten that out of my system, men had seemed like way more trouble than they were worth.

Until now anyway.

Annoying. Did I mention that?

“You see the palace in which I work.” I did a grand gesture with my arm. “What brings you in here on a dark and stormy night?”

“Only place open.”

“And here I thought it was my sparkling personality.”

He tapped his long finger on the handle of his knife. “You and your town are very unique. For me, that’s saying something.”

“Oh, and why would that be? Are you special, Rory Ferguson?” It wouldn’t surprise me in the least. Beyond the clothes that surely weren’t off the rack, I couldn’t put my finger on just what made the air different around him.

I saw the indecision on his face.

Was he famous? I frowned. An actor, maybe?

I glanced down at his hands and saw the little callouses on the tips of his fingers. No. Unless an actor was suddenly doing something habitual beyond staring at their own face in the mirror.

He tapped his knife again. “Recognize me?”

“No.”

“Refreshing. Not that I’d expect you to unless you have your sights set on something beyond this town. Say in Los Angeles.”

“Definitely not. I have no designs on leaving New York, let alone heading for the other side of the country.”

“Too bad. It’s a big world.”

I shrugged. “I like home. I like sameness. I like knowing what will happen every day.”

“You get strangers in your diner during snowstorms?”

“No, not generally. Takes some doing to find Crescent Cove.”

“Tell me about it.”

I picked up my glass of water and leaned back in the booth to toy with the straw. “GPS failed you?”

Tags: Taryn Quinn Crescent Cove Romance
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