Who's the Daddy (Crescent Cove 3)

Nope.

Turning around.

I didn’t need this.

Then she gave me this sexy little smile over her shoulder. And my stride lengthened. I’d done far more stupid things in my life than flirt with a gorgeous woman.

“I believe these are for you ladies.”

Ally made grabby hands. “Anything that doesn’t smell like formula or boob juice is for me.”

I blinked.

Sage took the tray. “Don’t mind her. She doesn’t get out much.”

Ally took her drink and I had to tighten my grip on the tray so it wouldn’t topple. I gave Sage an easy smile. “Straight bubbles are for you, I imagine?”

Sage sighed. “Yes, these heathens are drinking right in front of the pregnant lady who can’t have a single drop.”

Ally made a loud slurping sound. “Yep.”

I set the other margarita in front of Kelsey. “Tequila, huh?”

She nudged her two empty glasses away. “Luckily, I can walk to my place from here.”

A pop song that wasn’t too obnoxious came on. I was more of a classic rock guy, thanks to my hours in the auto shop, and other days. Ones that were almost too far away to see clearly. Where burnt rubber and racing had filled my head and heart.

I shoved those memories to the back of my mind. Too long ago to go down that endless track.

I leaned just a touch closer to her ear. “Dance?”

She turned her head and her cheek brushed my beard. Her citrusy scent blended with a sharper one due to the margarita. She swallowed hard and those golden eyes went a little hazy.

I wasn’t sure if it was because of the tequila or just that thing that bloomed up between us lately. Whatever the feeling was—and it was a very annoying feeling at that—I was willing to follow it for a few minutes. Just to remember what a woman smelled like again and not the eternal scent of motor oil, unwashed men, and peanut butter.

Wes was on a peanut butter kick and it was fucking killing me.

She nodded and stood up.

Christ, I wished she hadn’t. I definitely shouldn’t have come over.

The little straps of her flowery dress left her creamy shoulders bare. A dusting of freckles made me itch to get my lips on her again. We’d moved so fast the last time—the only time—I hadn’t gotten to thoroughly explore all of her.

Fuck.

I shouldn’t be exploring anything on her. I didn’t have the time to get all twisted up over a woman. I could barely keep up with Wes and the doubles I was working, along with the pinch hit days at my pop’s place.

But then she tossed her hair over her shoulder and took my hand.

Fuck, I was sunk.

She led me onto the dance floor and the song went slow and syrupy. It was an ex-boy band sort of song, but it didn’t stop me from sliding my hand around her waist. My rough hands caught on the delicate fabric and I instinctively pulled away.

She reached around and held me tighter. Her long legs bumped mine as we instantly fell into a loose sway. She was a little unsteady on the ankle-breakers she was wearing, but I took the opportunity to draw her even closer.

Her slightly more-than-a-mouthful breast buzzed against my chest and I sighed when she settled her arms around my neck. There was nothing quite like a soft woman. I buried the need under duty for my boy and my work, but God, she felt good.

“So, tell me, have you gotten a bed yet, Nuts Lady?”