Daddy Undercover (Crescent Cove 9)

Everything felt a little looser and brighter inside me. My long sex fast had been broken thoroughly. While I’d had more than one inappropriate thought about Jared over the years, it had nothing on the reality of him.

And us.

Together.

In all the ways.

The bad consisted of the nebulous future. I needed to take it day by day for now. Even if the future, and maybe the lack of one, was staring at me with large plastic eyes.

A big sign next to the door told me to take a rubber ducky before entering. The number on its butt was for the door prize drawing.

Again, that had to be my sister, Frankie. I just wasn’t that creative.

As I opened the door, more laughter and the ever annoying “Baby Shark” assaulted my ears. It would be a very good day in this world when that song was retired. I tucked my basket at the back of the gift table as I waved and smiled at the dozens of women wandering around the food tables.

My mother and Frankie were confabbing with Kayla over an empty chafing dish. My sister was sitting on a huge rattan chair that looked like it was a reject from school picture days. More tulle had been wrapped around the top part of the head rest and there were enough yellow and green balloons tied to it that I wondered if it was going to float into the rafters.

The cushion had been recovered in a baby pattern that could only mean it was a Kinleigh and August’s Attic refurb. And sure enough, Kin was pushing a matching footstool under Erica’s feet.

Erica huffed out an exasperated breath as people fussed over her.

My aunt Mindy kept trying to force a bottle of water into her hands, eventually giving up to sit by my abuela. Us Ramos women were the ultimate in stubbornness.

Kinleigh brought over a cup of punch.

“No, déjame levantarme!”

I winced and came forward. “All right, guys, give her a little space.”

Erica flailed like a beached whale, and I slid the footstool out of her way before grabbing her forearm to haul her up.

She rubbed the side of her belly. “Imma cut this baby out soon.”

“Now, now.”

Erica put her finger in my face. “Until you have a two-hundred-pound fetus bouncing on your bladder, I don’t want to hear it.”

That would be nearly impossible in my lifetime, but I stuffed down the immediate pang of longing and pasted on a half-smile. “You’re beautiful and definitely not carrying a freakishly large baby.”

“Says you,” Erica muttered as she finally got free of her special chair.

I waved off Kinleigh who was trying to come forward to help. “C’mon, Ric. Let’s empty the tank, and I’ll buy you a deviled egg.”

Erica bit her lower lip. “You saw deviled eggs?”

“I sure did.”

“Okay, deal.” She slid her arm through mine. It took an extra five minutes to get to the bathroom from her slow shuffle and sea of Ramos relatives.

Finally, Erica held up her arms. “I’m going to pee all over you people if you don’t let me by.”

And just like that, the Red Sea parted. I laughed and followed her into the bathroom.

Erica rushed into the stall and slammed the door. “You finally get out of the sheriff’s bed, hermanita?”

I leaned against the counter. “Oh, don’t you start.”

Erica let out a whoosh of relief. “I swear, if I go twenty minutes between trips to the bathroom, it’s a miracle.” The toilet flushed and she came out, waving me out of the way. She washed her hands and took the paper towels I handed her.