Pit Stop: Baby! (Crescent Cove 4)

“It does when it comes to you.”

I laughed, then it turned into a groan at the scent of fresh banana bread. “Man, it’s good to be home.”

“I really am glad you’re home, sweetie.”

I set the flowers down on the large shelf under the picture window in the living room. “Me too, Mom.”

I really hadn’t been aware just how much I needed home until just this second.

And maybe not entirely because of my family and familiar comforts. Perhaps being home would bring some new into my life as well.

Or it already had.

Six

I loved the idea of living alone. The actuality of it sometimes was a bit more than I was prepared for. Especially since my window faced Main Street. Small town life didn’t exactly mean a lot of nightlife or traffic, but oddly, it was the water that freaked me out the most.

I could hear it all the time.

Boats bumping against the dock and water forever swishing. People usually liked that lapping noise. For God’s sake, there were a million sleeping apps that actually accentuated any and all water sounds.

I knew that, because I had all the fucking apps.

Because I didn’t know how to sleep. Insomnia had always been a problem for me. Whenever I did manage to doze off, the water kept sneaking into my dreams. And dreams were forever a worry now.

So, I’d set a trap for myself. Much as I used to as a kid.

Unfortunately, I was too smart in my dreams. I wished the wakeful Rylee was half as brainy.

I curled into the large papasan chair I’d set up in front of the window and tried to chill myself out. Sometimes when there simply wasn’t a place to go, my subconscious would let me sleep. I pulled the light blanket up around me and slipped in my air pods.

Rain app on the go, full moon in the sky over the lake. I just needed a few hours down and I could make it through the day. I resisted the urge to look at the time on my phone. It made sleeping even more difficult.

Don’t fight it.

My eyes got heavier and the moon blurred in the sky.

“I don’t have time for your bullshit, Gage. I told you what you needed to do for Ma.”

“And I’ve been working on the house for the last three days. I’m a fucking driver and mechanic, not a handyman, asshole.”

“Then go fucking be a driver. It’s what you do, right?”

I opened one eye. Gage?

I sat up as the voices lowered and faded. Had I been dreaming of him? Not shocking. I’d had some crazy hot dreams the first few weeks after our hookup.

Well, I was still in the chair. That was one good thing. The sun was streaming into my apartment. I must have slept. And hey, I hadn’t gotten up in the middle of the night.

I hoped.

I climbed out of the chair and looked around for any of the telltale signs. I had a habit of doing weird decorating things. And then I saw my fridge was open. It certainly hadn’t been when I went to bed.

Dammit.

“Great.” I cringed at all the food I’d probably have to throw out.

I stepped around the temple of plastic cups near my door and quickly stacked them to put on my kitchen island for later. Luckily, I’d taken a shower the night before so I just had to brush my teeth and get dressed.