Wrong Bed Baby (Crescent Cove 10)

What was it with this…goddess? That was the only appropriate word. Even her golden hair appeared to be glowing in the shimmering light.

“We can go—” She didn’t get anything else out, because a sudden clattering of feet climbing the stairs disturbed the low-key environment.

My head was swimming from a mixture of rum and Luna, but I knew without a doubt that I’d made a serious error in judgment.

Not the first time when it came to my best friend. Probably not the last either.

I would never, ever fucking learn.

The door to the roof burst open and Lucky appeared, flanked by a whole heck of a lot more than a couple friends.

More than half a dozen. In fact, I was pretty sure the stairwell was clogged with quite a few of Crescent Cove’s bravest. Maybe some of the finest too.

Didn’t want to leave out any of the first responders, after all.

Luna’s mouth dropped open as she rose and stared hard at me before swinging her gaze back to Lucky and his band of loud-as-hell merry men. “What is all this?”

Lucky held up a six-pack and motioned to the crowd behind him. “We came to party, womenfolk!”

Five

Belatedly, I remembered that chaos followed Lucky wherever he went. Usually because he invited it and fed it slices of watermelon and shots of tequila.

In this case, he doled out a lot of both, acting as a master of ceremonies of sorts although he had not been invited by the woman holding the gathering. She hadn’t invited me either, and from the looks she occasionally slid my way as she tried to salvage the night, she had not forgotten that tidbit.

“So, our fair Tabitha invited you, you said?”

Glumly, I poked at my watercress and cucumber mini sandwich with the plastic skewer I’d stolen off a drink. Not mine, since I was trying to slow down. I hadn’t had all that much, all things considered, but after pounding that straight rum, I’d begun at a distinct disadvantage. Add in that whole lack of tolerance thing and I didn’t feel too hot.

And so far, I’d spent most of my time talking to Bess Wainwright, a woman who was at least forty years older than me. She was lovely, no doubt about that, and she had a sharp wit and a great sense of humor, but she wasn’t really in my target group.

“Yeah.” I ate some of the watercress and decided it wasn’t as awful as I’d assumed. Though I’d really prefer a steak. “She’s nice.”

Bess was eating far more enthusiastically than I was. She speared a cube of honeydew with her fork. “She is. Not for you, hmm?”

In lieu of answering, I lifted my head to glance where Tabitha was leaning against the wall, a smile on her face as she spoke to Brady, the newest member of our police force. She was popping green grapes in her mouth as she chatted animatedly. I wondered if she realized he was watching the path of the fruit from the tips of her fingers until she bit down. That little flash of tongue before she chewed and swallowed.

It would’ve been an almost unintentionally erotic display, if my dick hadn’t been in the midst of a depressive episode. My toe was too. Ever since Luna had stroked my foot and then abandoned me to the vagaries of my raggedy bandage, it had felt cold and sore. And since the temperature had to be in the mid-eighties even now that it was after nine pm, that said plenty.

>

Bess turned her head to follow my gaze and she nodded sympathetically. “Scooped by a man in uniform.” She made a noise that reminded me of what my cousin’s cat did at the window when she was trying to lure birds into her den. “Such a handsome one too. Look at how that shirt fits him.”

“They buy them all a size too small so their muscles bulge.” There was no keeping the irritation out of my voice.

Bess laughed and poured from a pitcher of some fruity drink with a decidedly alcoholic scent into her glass. “Our honorable firemen too? They also fill out their attire quite well. Not that you have anything to feel bad about in that department, Cal.”

“Caleb,” I corrected. “Only my mother calls me Cal, and she’s not allowed to either.”

“Noted.” She didn’t laugh openly, but I heard it in her voice.

I didn’t blame her. I’d laugh at me too right now if it didn’t make my head swim.

“Why do I have a feeling you aren’t over here drowning your sorrows in cucumbers because of Tabitha’s appreciation for the men in blue?”

“No. I brought her that man,” I mumbled.

Bess’s dark brown brow arched. “You run a male delivery service? Can I place an order? I just want one for an hour.” She tapped her chin with fingers winking with sparkly rings. “Or two. Then he can run along home. Much easier that way.”