Lucky Baby (Crescent Cove 11)

She huffed out an annoyed breath, but then Lucky ducked in through the door and she and the hostess were both distracted. Six-feet-four inches of hot dude would do that.

I was mostly immune.

Okay, barely.

But at this moment, I was very glad for his charming demeanor. I could already hear him flirting with them.

I followed the sign for the bathrooms. “Bingo,” I said and dumped my bag on the counter. I snapped out my handy black dress. It was the one I used for any funeral or business dinner. The damn thing never wrinkled.

I grabbed my heels. Since there were hardly any people in the diner, I didn’t feel bad about ducking into the handicapped stall. Quickly, I did my business—thanks, nerves—then kicked off my boots, socks, shirt, and leggings. I’d worn tights under my leggings so I just had to wiggle into the dress.

It clung to my hips, but it was mostly a column of simple black from neck to ankle. I dropped the shoes to the floor and stepped into the three-inch heels.

Back in the main bathroom, I washed up, pulled my hair into a simple French braid, and put on some lipstick and waterproof mascara so I didn’t look like a ghost. Damn redhead genes.

Within ten minutes, I was back in the diner, bag slung over my shoulder.

Lucky stood at the front counter. He’d swapped his battered jeans for dark-washed ones and a gray button-down. He’d tucked it in, showing off his exceptional assets.

He turned and his gaze tracked along my body before zeroing in on my face. His brows furrowed as if he wasn’t sure what to make of me.

He wasn’t the only one.

“I had them make us some club sandwiches for later.”

“Thanks.” I pulled my wallet out of my bag.

“I got it.”

I gave him a tight smile. There wasn’t enough left in me to argue.

“Thanks, ladies. We really appreciate it.”

“Are you going to the memorial?”

I looked at the floor and nodded.

“Such a waste. He was a nice boy. He and his father were always in here. Jimmy was always such a charmer.”

Charming snake who probably still had money in the bank from the sale of my machine.

I clenched my hands and said nothing.

Lucky slid his palm along my lower back, rubbing lightly. He took the to go bag and steered me out the door.

“Damn, Ruby. You’re almost eye to eye with me in those stilts.”

I stepped into him, grateful for the distraction. “I don’t line up with that many men.” I dropped my gaze to his mouth then lifted it to his sea-green eyes, the flippant flirting between us falling away. “Thanks for doing this.”

“Stop thanking me.” He slid his hand down to catch mine. “Let’s get this done.”

I nodded and let him lead me out of the diner vestibule. The firehouse was packed now so it was easier to drop our stuff off and leave the truck in the diner parking lot.

He kept his hand in mine as we walked across the street.

I meant to drop his hand before I walked in the room, but the guy standing at the podium was waxing poetic about what a wonderful man Jimmy Devine was.

Larger than life photos of him flanked the small stage. Blond and full of smiles, he oozed charisma and his eyes were blue and crinkled at the corners. One picture was of him in his full uniform when he’d first become a firefighter, and in the other, he wore his smoke jumper gear.