Rockstar Baby (Crescent Cove 6)

It seemed too important to be fully present for once. To soak up this little moment to hold me through the seemingly endless thaw of spring until I could get my summer plans in order. To finally make my little truck a reality.

I toyed with the medal resting on his chest. I nearly missed the small cross threaded onto the chain behind it. “Saint Christopher?”

“Good eye.”

I grinned up at him. “I worked at a little card shop when I was sixteen. Had a bunch of these kinds of medals in a display case. Grandmas usually bought them.”

He laughed. “Well, you can add Irish mothers to that list as well. Even went so far as to get the holy father at Saint Peter and Paul’s Church to bless it before she gave it to me. That was after she made me promise I’d wear it on every flight.”

I rested my chin on top of my hand. “Patron saint of travelers.”

“It’s a comfort to her, so I wear it.”

“Not a comfort to you?”

He shrugged. “Easier to wear it than to remember to grab it for every flight. Then again, I’m always on a plane going somewhere.”

The questions burned my tongue. Just who was this man who didn’t seem to belong anywhere and yet was comfortable wherever he was?

His face closed off a little. “Just spit out whatever it is you have to say.”

Now I wanted to bite my tongue even more. It didn’t matter. It was just today between us. I settled with the easy. For me as much as him. “What happened with your meeting?”

He visibly relaxed, fluffing the pillow behind his head. “My client’s child fell ill and he and the boy’s mother ended up heading to the urgent care center.”

I propped myself on my elbow on the mattress. “Oh, no. Is he okay?”

“Seemed like a normal child’s malady. Ear infection and fever perhaps? I’m not sure. Obviously, that ended our meeting.”

“That was nice of you.”

He sat up. “Just being human. Not sure why everyone is so surprised that I’d be okay with postponing our work.”

I tucked the sheet around my breasts. “Well, you traveled from across the country.”

He raked his hand through his hair. “Yeah, but I’m not a monster, for fuck’s sake.”

I sat up next to him. “Didn’t say you were. You’re getting a little worked up about it. Kids get sick all the time.”

“Yeah, well, when it’s your own I guess you get a little more upset about it.”

“Oh, I’d have kicked you to the curb if the baby was mine.”

He huffed out a half-laugh. “And yet you’re surprised that I’m the one who’s being magnanimous?”

“Oh, magnanimous.”

“Ah, for feck’s sake.”

I laughed as his Irish temper roughened his voice and his frustration mounted. “So touchy. I was just saying it was nice of you.” I climbed over his lap and let my sheet free.

His jaw flexed, but he didn’t unfold his arms.

I cupped his face and smoothed my thumbs over his scruffy jaw. “Ah, LC, you’re just mad that people know you’re actually a nice guy under the grump.”

“I am not.”

“Aren’t you though?”