Wrong Bed Baby (Crescent Cove 10)

I looked over my shoulder at the crap-ton of cars in the parking lot of St. Agnes Academy. Ivy and her ice cream truck had a line winding around the parked cars as if she was selling tickets to a One Direction reunion.

I sort of wanted a Bomb Pop, but I didn’t want to end up wearing it as it melted. I pulled at my cropped T-shirt. Maybe I should have gone with a longer top.

“I mean, we haven’t really done the whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing.”

“Is that what we are?” He gave me an arched brow as he laced our fingers together.

“Asshat.”

His smile got wider. “You look beautiful. And you’re way more interesting than I am. I’m going to be the one in the background, refilling soda cups.”

“Stop.”

“What are you worried about? You can command a room at ten paces.” He hefted the soft-sided cooler we’d filled with a fruit and veggie platter, since he’d asked me to come to this shindig with him on relatively short notice.

Not just any picnic. The one with all the teachers and their families, for goddess’s sake. “I know. I just haven’t really hung out with any of your people except Lucky.”

“Well, Lucky is my best friend. But I

definitely wouldn’t take him here. He’d make all the nuns faint.”

“Nuns? A fleet of penguins will be here?”

“You met Sister Tobias. It’s no big deal. The school is a mix of nuns and laypeople.”

“Laypeople,” I muttered.

This was definitely not my current world. Not even my old world.

Which I absolutely wasn’t thinking about today.

He released my fingers to wrap his arm around my shoulder and pressed a kiss to my temple. “Don’t worry, the nuns don’t drag people around by the ear anymore. At least not when anyone can see them.”

He waved to a woman with three dogs and a child—all on leashes.

Another man and woman came rushing across the grass. A boy of indeterminate age was racing ahead of them.

“Dammit, Wes, slow the hell down!”

“You cannot say dammit and hell at the same time at a Catholic picnic, Dare!” A red-haired woman punched the guy in the shoulder.

“We’re not in friggin’ church,” her companion muttered. He was big and broad and scowly.

The little boy seated on the man’s shoulders giggled. “Daddy said a swear.”

“He sure did.” Suddenly, the redhead waved at us.

As they approached, we slowed down.

“Hey, Caleb,” she said cheerfully.

“Beck,” the man said with a near growl.

Caleb didn’t seem afraid of him. He gave him a cheeky smile even though the dude seemed as if he could put Caleb into a deep freeze with the power of his gaze.

“Don’t mind my husband,” the redhead said.

I shook hands with her. “I’m Luna.”