Lucky Baby (Crescent Cove 11)

“Are you going to tell Cohen everything?”

“I don’t know. Part of me thinks I should, but then I don’t want to hurt him any more than he’s already hurting.”

I wanted to ask if she would be telling me everything, but I could tell she was too lost in her own thoughts.

On the trip there, we killed time with our favorite murder podcast.

About half an hour outside of her dad’s place, the conditions had turned white-out dangerous. I was white-knuckling it every mile. Normally, I’d be a helluva lot calmer.

I’d spent three-quarters of my life on the road. This was nothing compared to a few of the blizzards and hurricanes I’d been through.

This time, I had far more precious cargo.

When my rear tires slipped for a third time, I swore. A sign for a truck stop made the decision for me. I flicked on my blinker. “I think we should pull over and wait this out a bit.”

She nodded. “I think you’re right.”

“Sorry. Can I get the time and date of that one?”

“Ass.” But the tips of h

er fingers were bone-white as she held onto the dash. B had climbed into her lap after a bathroom break and stayed there ever since.

A line of cars had the same idea, including half a dozen tractor trailers. I eased behind a Bronco and put it in park. An army of plows were making short work of the rapidly falling snow, but as soon as they cleared it, more was there waiting.

The sun had been missing for the last hour, leaving the sky an eerie iridescent orange full of snow. It wasn’t even noon, but it looked more like dusk.

She flipped open the cooler on the floor and found B’s little bottle-bowl contraption. She squeezed out some water and offered some to my shaking dog.

“Shh. It’s okay.”

I couldn’t help smiling at her as she crooned to the dog.

She looked up. “What are you smiling at?”

“Not maternal, huh?”

“Shut up.” She tucked the bottle away then cuddled B. “Dogs are easy.”

“I’m onto you, Miss Burns.” I unclipped my belt, then hers and dragged her and my dog over. I stretched out my legs on the bench seat until she had no choice but to lay on me.

“This is not comfy.”

“Sure it is.” I lifted her hips until she straddled my legs with one of hers. “There we go. Why don’t you try and take a little nap? Not much else we can do here.”

She laid her head against my chest as B curled up in the small space between us and settled down.

Having both my girls in my arms wasn’t a bad thing. I smoothed my hand down her hair. She’d taken off the hat during the drive, and the cinnamon scent of her hair filled the cab of the truck.

“Did you grow up in Buffalo?”

She played with the button on my shirt. “We moved there after my mom left. So, yeah, most of my life.”

I pressed a kiss to the top of her head and let her talk if she wanted to.

“My dad needed help from his family. Three boys and me—yeah, we were a bit of a handful as you could imagine.”

I smiled against her hair. “Bet you were a handful.”