Wrong Bed Baby (Crescent Cove 10)

That was me, Caleb Beck, duck defender.

And I was something else too. I was a guy who couldn’t get enough of making my girl—both of them—smile.

Ten

I hopped up and down to get the stretchy skirt over my hips. I had been spending way too many evenings eating all the dude food Caleb and Lucky had been making on the rooftop. We’d fallen into a pretty easy summer evening routine with a few of the people in the building.

Post-work we met on the rooftop with Tabitha and Lucky. Sometimes August and Kin stopped over, but the parent thing wasn’t easy to work around. We didn’t mind when they brought Vivi with them, but I was pretty sure Caleb’s older brother had grown out of the beers on the rooftop evenings. Especially with a little one who was getting m

ore and more mobile—aka getting into trouble constantly.

Personally, I was pretty sure he and Kin liked their time alone together too.

I definitely understood that. It was getting so I didn’t exactly want to share Caleb with his best bro Lucky. I wasn’t sure what to do with that feeling. It had been a few weeks since the Goldilocks incident, and we’d been locked and loaded with the sexy times every night since.

I glanced over at my phone as it buzzed on my dresser.

Am I bringing wine? Or is this tequila night?

That was the question. I sent back a quick reply for him to go with the harder stuff. I was feeling a little reckless tonight.

I blamed him completely. He knew just how to get my motor revved, and I didn’t want to think too closely about how excited I got seeing his name on my phone. I’d pushed back my podcast with Ryan twice just because I’d been in a perpetual state of postcoital bliss.

And tonight, I was looking for a repeat performance.

Not that Ryan was all that concerned about our usual schedule. She was filling in for April, the third in our little triad, at April’s office assistant job this week. And to be honest, April had been just as MIA lately.

Was this what growing older included? Growing apart from my friends?

Nope, that would not happen to me. I added a reminder on my phone to contact the girls tomorrow and make sure everyone was okay. Especially after the call I’d gotten last evening from Ryan’s new temporary boss—while he was in her bedroom.

Yeah. It was like that.

If Caleb hadn’t been so overwhelming, I would’ve called her first thing today to get the full scoop. Okay, maybe not first thing. I had a feeling Ryan was doing some naked overtime in her new position.

Literally and figuratively.

There was much to discuss on both sides. But right now, I had some entertaining to do.

I padded into the living room and picked up a few random items that had cluttered up my small living room. I lifted Caleb’s shirt to my nose and took a nice big whiff of his spicy scent. It instantly flushed my skin with that familiar buzz.

I was quickly becoming addicted to his aura being part of my space. And tonight, I was going to drive him a little crazy.

I pulled his favorite chair from the far side of the room to directly in front of my pole. Finally, some of the heat had broken today. I set the overhead fan to low, closed the drapes over my windows, and draped a few of my silk scarves over my lamps.

The room took on a pink and purple hazy glow.

I curled my hand around the pole to make sure it was slick enough for me to work with, then did a few stretches.

I’d been working my way up to the advanced class online. Pole dancing wasn’t exactly the kind of thing one would find in the small town of Crescent Cove. Maybe in nearby Syracuse, but that probably included a darker element than I was looking for.

I flicked through my playlist as I pushed myself for a wider split on the floor. Stretching was one of my favorite things to do, but it took a damn long time to get my body to comply sometimes.

Making Caleb lose his mind was on the agenda tonight, and I wouldn’t even need tequila to start the party.

I sent off a text to tell Caleb just to come inside as I put my warmup song on. Beyonce’s “Crazy In Love” was the best song to do the long slow swivels on the pole. When I danced for myself, I didn’t usually bother with shoes, but I thought the extra effort would pay off.

I tied on the five inch Mary Janes I’d found online during a late night shopping session. I loved the paisley purple skin on the glossy black heels. I’d never be able to walk around town in the stupid things, but a little murderous pole action?