Who's the Daddy (Crescent Cove 3)

The happy hour crowd had moved on and the bar was full of regulars when I signaled our waitress for the check.

“I got it.” August snatched the receipt.

“Since when do you pick up a tab?”

He shrugged. “Since you never text me to get a beer.”

“Sure I do.”

“No, I text you—not the other way around.”

I frowned. “That can’t be right.”

He waved it off. “Not a big deal. You have a kid. Hanging at the bar isn’t exactly your scene anymore.”

“Makes me sound shitty.”

“Now I know something’s up. You and self-analysis don’t belong in the same room together.”

I couldn’t disagree there. I laced my fingers behind my neck and popped each knuckle. “Fuck, man.”

“That good?”

“I sorta hooked up with this girl.”

“Sorta? What, you trip and your dick fell in?”

I snorted. “Closer to the truth than not. It was a random hookup.” I shrugged. “You know how it goes. Sometimes there’s that itch.”

“Well, we’ve both had plenty of one-nighters over the years.”

“Yeah, but not with women from Crescent Cove.”

August winced. “Ahh. Yeah, no.”

“Oh, and Wes’s teacher.”

“Hello. That hot redhead?”

I didn’t realize I’d snarled until he held up his hands.

“One-nighter, my ass.”

“That’s why I don’t mess with people from town, man. It gets weird.” I stared hard at the table. That was a fucking lie. It would have been fine. Maybe even more than fine if I was still just hooking up with her.

I could handle that.

It was the rest. The army of tests that had sealed my fate.

“I might need another beer.”

August leaned back in his chair and waved at our waitress. “Two more, sweetheart.”

She nodded.

“Come on, Kramer. Pull the tampon out. What the fuck’s the problem?”

“Asshole.”