Lucky Baby (Crescent Cove 11)

“Get in here, Thor.”

I sighed and turned the knob. The house practically echoed in its emptiness. I followed Butch’s happy barks to her kitchen. It had a retro feel, mostly because I was pretty sure everything was original to the house. There was an olive green 70s stove with fridge accompaniment and the tile was a hideous muddy brown, but the walls were freshly painted in a safe neutral almond color.

It was clean—about the only good thing it had going for it.

I had to duck my head to come in. These old houses weren’t made for men well above six feet like myself. The kitchen island was scattered with coffee paraphernalia. An electric kettle was bubbling as she fussed with a fancy pour over setup. I recognized the black cat on the bag of grounds.

“So, what kind of brew do you get from Queen Macy?”

Tish gave me that half smile and turned the bag. It just said Tish in Macy’s slashy handwriting. “Who knows? It’s just good.”

“Won’t tell you the secret ingredient, huh?”

“Nope.” She started pouring hot water over the top basket. The rich, sharp scent of coffee hit like a hammer and instantly activated my stomach too.

“Got any food? I didn’t get to take my lunch.”

She nodded to the fridge. “Not sure what you’ll find in there, but you’re welcome to it.” She spun to the cabinets next to the stove for a few mugs.

I had to fold myself in half to peek into her fridge—and found a pizza box from Robbie’s with something they’d use for experiments over at Caleb’s school. I pulled the box out and set it on the island. “Think we need to order a pizza.”

“Why? I have a…” She trailed off when she caught a whiff of the box. “Okay, maybe not. I have to pay extra to get them to deliver out here so it might take a minute.”

“I’ll chip in.”

“Nah.” She pulled her phone out of her back pocket. “I’ll call it in. Anything you hate?”

“Peppers.”

“I just want to change really quick.”

I looked down at my mud and cement-splattered jeans and shirt. “Hmm.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I might have something of my brother’s upstairs you can use.”

“I’m good.”

“I’ll check anyway.” And then she disappeared up the stairs off the back of the kitchen.

The coffee was doing a slow drip deal and I needed to distract myself or I’d eat the Formica. I wandered away to check out the rest of the house. Didn’t take me long. The rooms echoed, but damn, she had good light.

I took out my phone and started plugging in a few ideas for her living space. I stopped cold when I got to her living room. A seventy-inch television was bolted to the wall and a massive leather sectional was set up with one of those raised coffee table things. A Diet Coke and massive sketchbook sat on the table.

Butch was on the arm of the couch, curled into her shrimp formation and snoozing away. I scratched the top of her head and she sighed before snoring once more.

Nosy as fuck and good with it, I turned the pad so I could see what she’d been working on. It was a series of drawings of the same car. There was one larger drawing shaded with some sort of heavy chalk in matte black with a lighter gray to show off edges and details. The matte black made the powerful car seem even more imposing. I picked it up to get a better look and realized it looked like the Batmobile crossed with something older and classier. There were various smaller drawings around it that emphasized specific details. Headlights with badass lines, wheels with stunning custom rims, and a grill that I could practically hear the growl of a high performance engine through.

“It’s a Phantom Rolls I’m doing a custom body for.”

I turned toward her voice and gave her a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”

“I doubt it.”

“It was right there.” I set down the sketchbook.

“No big. I’m not precious with my drawings.” She tossed me a shirt then tucked her hands into the pockets of an ancient pair of jeans with frayed holes all over. She wore a T-shirt with a zombie Care Bear holding a knife.

“Thanks.” I looked down at the shirt. It was a plain navy T-shirt with an aquarium logo. “Yours is cooler.”