Pit Stop: Baby! (Crescent Cove 4)

“No.”

I laughed at the way she pouted. “Is it an imperative?”

“No. I have quite a bit of savings to be honest.”

“Enough to build a business?”

She settled back into the couch. “If I was careful.”

“Think about it.”

“Maybe.”

And that had to be good enough, but the seeds were planted. I didn’t know what the hell I was doing, but it was easier to see it as an outsider to Rylee’s ideas. For someone with such a forceful personality, she played it very carefully in some ways. Maybe not so unlike her sister in that regard.

I reached for the huge popcorn bowl and put it back on our laps. “Ready for that movie?”

She fit herself back against my side, her eyes gleeful as she lifted the remote.

Twenty minutes later, we were both engrossed in the classic slasher movie. We started with Friday the 13th, but quickly discovered a mutual love for the Halloween movies.

By the time we moved on into the lesser sequel, Rylee started nodding off. I couldn’t blame her. It had been a damn long day. She murmured lightly against my chest. I settled her more comfortably against me. Would be just my luck she’d have a nightmare.

Though it didn’t seem her style. Especially not with that list of horror movies she’d watched.

She settled down when I rubbed light circles along the base of her neck. Her warmth and the very long day had me dozing off as well. The lights were low in the café and the couch was comfortable as fuck. I’d never been averse to cuddling. Being alone in a car for most of my day, or around a bunch of hardcore racing guys, made a guy crave a softer touch.

And I’d been craving it for a long damn time.

My lifestyle didn’t allow for it. Always traveling, always stressing over the next big race. Endless parties and sponsor driven glad-handing. I was so done with it all. The quiet of Crescent Cove was exactly what I’d run from. Now I craved it.

And this woman next to me.

Suddenly, Rylee sat up and took the bowl off the table.

“Ry?”

She didn’t answer me. She just seemed to shuffle off, bumping into chairs and tables like a pinball. Left, right, straight—then she went right into the cafe and behind the counter.

I popped up off the couch. “Rylee?”

“Just have to make the coffee. It’s okay.”

“Coffee? Now? Are you supposed to have that anyway?” I wound around the chairs she’d bumped in the process.

“Of course I am. I have to get ready for work.”

Work? She didn’t have a job right now.

She set the large bowl in the bakery case on top of the wrapped brownies. I frowned. What the hell?

I moved around her, but her eyes were glassy. I stepped back as she went to the drawer at the center of the counter and pulled out a knife.

Yeah, we were not going for a knife after watching Michael Myers.

I glanced at the bakery case and suddenly, the red sneaker in her crisper made so much sense. I raked my fingers through my hair.

My girl was a sleepwalker.