Rockstar Baby (Crescent Cove 6)

“Jesus, no. Just…well, don’t write him off completely. He hasn’t had any time to figure this out yet.”

“I can’t believe you. You were just willing to castrate him if I asked you to.”

“And I still would. The fact that he touched you is enough for me to kill him.”

“August, you’re not my dad. I have one of those.” One who wasn’t exactly speaking to me right now. I’d told my folks and they were supportive under duress. My dad was disappointed though. He didn’t exactly say it, but it was pretty apparent since he left the room every time I came home.

This baby was supposed to be a happy thing. And nothing really made sense. I’d been prepared to do this alone all along, but now I just wasn’t sure. Unfortunately, Rory being an inadvertent sperm donor didn’t mean he was automatically cut out to be a father. No matter how much I wished it to be so.

It wasn’t like I hadn’t known that from the jump.

Everything felt different now that the reality was upon me. The shocked look on his face, the furtive glances all day. The worst part was the determination in his eyes.

Hope was not my friend.

August snapped his fingers in front of my face. “Earth to Ivy.”

I smacked his hand away. “I have a lot on my mind. I just want to get this truck done. That’s all I can concentrate on right now.”

“Does he know that?”

I looked over my shoulder at Rory blatantly listening in the doorway. “What do you think?”

August’s gaze crashed into Rory’s. “Say the word and I’ll make sure no one finds the body.”

I dropped my arms and moved to my brother. “Thanks, Aug.”

He hugged me with a sigh. “I’ll see you tonight?”

“After my shift.”

“Text me if you need anything.”

I stepped back. “I will.”

With a curt nod, he headed back across the street to his store.

I turned back to Rory, who was gripping the edges of the doorway. “He was kidding, right?”

“About which part?”

He swallowed. “The body.”

“No.” I brushed by him to grab my purse. “I have to lock up.”

“All right. Do you have any cling wrap?”

I looped my strap over my shoulder. “What? Why?”

“Keeps the brush wet.”

“Why don’t you just wash it?”

“Because you’re obviously in a rush. And I have to finish the other doors tomorrow.” He closed the paint can with deliberate taps from a hammer.

“So, you have painted before?” I would not concentrate on the part where he said he’d be back the next day.

He shrugged. “My ma likes a tidy house. I’ve painted my fair share of shutters and walls for sure.”