Lucky Baby (Crescent Cove 11)

I huffed out an exasperated breath and did as I was told, scooping up pasta salad and baked beans. Holy hell, more of that lime scent wafted off the corn on the cob ribs piled on a platter that I had admired during late night scrolls through social media.

I filled half the plate with that and grabbed some silverware and a stack of napkins. I tucked two beers in my sweatshirt and followed him toward the fire pit.

Now that I got a better look at the bonfire, I realized he’d actually made a fire pit out of cement blocks to contain the fire. With the windy days of autumn upon us, that was especially important. No need to take out the lake with a blaze.

Unsettled by his attention to detail on all fronts, I paused outside the circle of couples.

Lucky dragged one of the chairs closer to Gage and Rylee so we made a little quartet. Luna and Ryan were chatting about wedding things, so I was more than happy to stay to this side of the nosh fest. The Adirondack chairs were oversized which let me sit cross-legged to give myself maximum lap space.

Lucky stood beside me so we could fix up our plates. We naturally divided things without much chatter. He palmed his plate with his long-fingered grip then tucked the now empty second plate under his. “See, teamwork.”

I forced my lips to bend into a smile. He really took up far too much space. “So I see.” I shoved my hand into my sweatshirt and came out with a sweating can. “Here.”

“Ah, perfect.” His fingers brushed mine, the calloused tips leaving a buzz of awareness in their wake before he moved away and dropped into his chair. “Now this is what it’s all about.”

The flames flickered in his sea-colored eyes. I could see some fatigue in the lines around the corners, but it seemed as if he was a happy tired.

Butch came running down the hill and flew over the rocks to jump up on the arm of Lucky’s chair. She curled up, hoping for a treat or two as she kept her one open eye stationed on her owner.

“I didn’t realize you were so close to us, Tish.”

I turned toward Rylee. “Oh, right. I was out of town when you guys had your little housewarming thing.” On purpose. I really wasn’t into all these coupled up things. It seemed like every-damn-one was paired up in this town. w

And more often than not, a baby stroller was included.

Gage crossed his legs at the ankle, digging his heels into the sand. “That’s Tish. She isn’t much for get-togethers.”

“Nope.”

“Why I was shocked you invited us.” He bit into one of the corn ribs. “Man, these are good.”

“Not ashamed to say TikTok made me do it.” Lucky grinned. “I’ve never cooked so much until I started looking around on there. They make it look way easier than they are. Took me about five tries not to burn the fuck out of these.” He lifted one and sampled it. “I finally got the right technique from Macy’s chef. Decker’s making some Halloween ones for The Haunt.”

“Well, I’m in.”

I cleared out my entire pile of them.

Finally, I went for the sandwich. Lucky watched me out of the corner of his eye. I really wanted to just put it down in indifference, but my mouth was having an orgasm. “Dear God.”

He grinned and took a big bite of his own. “Hell yeah.”

Rylee held up hers. “Here’s to the magnificent chef Lucky.”

I couldn’t disagree. “Hear hear.” Then I was too busy clearing my plate.

Conversation flowed around me. I threw in a comment here or there, but I was happy to just bask in the warmth of the fire and relax. They didn’t make it hard on me, which helped.

Lucky hopped up and collected plates. I really should have gotten up to pitch in, but I was so damn cozy. I closed my eyes as the breeze came up off the water. The fire popped with the air pockets in the old wood just adding to the ambiance.

This was what I’d wanted when I bought the house—the quiet and nature surrounding me. I sure didn’t mind the cooler temperatures to combat the bugs. Every little thing was perfect.

I must have dozed off, because the chink of horseshoes and Luna’s delighted laugh dented my consciousness. But not enough for me to open my eyes. I just wanted to stay on the drift.

Then the light strum of a guitar pulled at me. It wasn’t intrusive, just the kind that belonged by a fire. But the voice made it impossible to stay under.

I turned my head to find him with a beat-up guitar on his lap, sitting on the edge of the chair. The firelight turned his hair a burnished gold. It was down and hiding half his face. His voice wasn’t perfect, but it suited the old guitar.

Just singing for the pleasure of a song.