Lucky Baby (Crescent Cove 11)

I could only imagine what was coming our way this year.

Lucky and Gideon had assured me they would get the roof finished first so the rest of the barn renovation could move along.

If I had to go to a funeral-slash-memorial, at least the timing could’ve been worse.

I wanted to hide in the workshop and figure out the back panels of the Phantom, not face my dead lover’s family. Oh, and of course my brother, who was still mourning for his best friend, and my dad, who’d thought of Jimmy as another son. All of it made me want to take my bag and hit the road for a whole different kind of destination.

I could start over again. Maybe try Canada this time.

The beige and blue battered panels of Lucky’s truck as it barreled down the drive were disguised in a wake of dust. I really needed to think about improving the road with winter coming. That was going to be a bitch to keep plowed.

One more thing to add to my checklist.

He parked and hopped out. “Mornin’.” He strode over to my bags. “Oh, hey. You packed snacks?” His slash of a smile made my gut twist.

Here I was, acting like nothing happened last night. That I hadn’t let Lucky hold me while I shook in his arms. Never mind that I’d agreed he could join me on this trip.

He’d asked if I needed a friend, and I couldn’t remember ever wanting one more.

I wrapped the edg

es of my sweater tighter and crossed to him. “Less stops the better.”

“That’s no fun. You’re supposed to find shitty diners on the endless highways of America.”

“Been to all of them.”

“I got you a coffee from Macy’s on the way.”

“I could ki—um…thank you.”

He grinned down at me. “What was that?”

“That’s very kind of you.”

His lips twitched. “What’s in the thermos?”

“More coffee.”

“You’re so organized.” He crouched down to the cooler and flipped it open. “Grapes, trail mix, nuts.” He glanced up at me. “Where’s the gummy bears? M&Ms?”

“Keep digging.”

“That’s my girl.” He shoved his big paw in there and found the candy layer. “Twizzlers—you are my soulmate.”

“Shut up.”

He tucked the thermos under his arm, and swung both the soft-sided cooler strap and my bag over his shoulder. When my coat slipped free from where I’d looped it over the bag, I stepped forward and snatched it before he could take that too. “I can carry my own stuff.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just get in the truck.”

I stomped after him, my arms wrapped around my one good jacket—well, other than my leather one.

“What did you do with Butch?”

“She’s getting spoiled by Luna and Caleb.” He swore as he twisted his shoulders to stuff himself into the back. “They said it was mini practice for the kid.”

“With your dog? No. She’s cake.”