by Taryn Quinn
I quickly looked up. “Oh, I shouldn’t leave the store. Luna is still so—”
“She’ll be fine.” Ivy eased around the stroller and gave Rhiannon an absent pat, tucking her stroller blanket around her ever flailing legs. She smiled at her daughter then came around to me and linked our arms together.
My dry eyes suddenly stung.
I didn’t deserve the olive branch, but I took it. Heck, I grabbed it. “Sure. I could use a walk.”
“You sure could.” Ivy snagged three bottles of water from the barrel and passed them out to all of us. “Now let’s go see what kind of terrible food there is. I’ve barely gotten back into my pants, but I’m dying for some fried dough.”
Before I could agree, I was getting pulled along into the pedestrian traffic. Most of Main Street was coned off to let the kids run around within the adults’ watchful gazes. A soccer ball was being kicked around on the patchy spring grass to the far right of the vendor stalls.
Instead of the usual summer flowers bursting everywhere, there were stalls selling seeds and seedlings ready for planting and pretty baskets full of tools and stoneware pots to create container gardens. Because we lived in the Northeast, planting didn’t happen until after Mother’s Day, which was some weeks away. April was upon us and my weeks with August were marching on by.
Enough for me to worry about them coming to an end? Maybe. I worried about everything else, so why not?
My stomach grumbled as we ended up downwind from two food trucks parked across from the diner in front of our small town hall. There was enough foot traffic for the café and the diner, which were both overflowing with people as well.
“Is there anything better than the Spring Walk?”
“Farmer’s Market?”
Ivy grinned. “Okay, yes, I prefer the veggie stands all summer long, but we’ve been hunkered down from the cold for so long, it finally feels like we’re thawing out.”
Was that what I’d been doing? Me, the little seedling poking out. Or would I be the one stomped under a boot, or frozen by the next winter wind?
My breath caught at the wide shoulders in the crowd. I had to stop looking for him everywhere. Not every wide-shouldered guy in this town was August. And boy, did I not need that today. Things had been weird last night with him. Too intense. Not that we knew any other way around one another when it came to naked mambo time.
And it was always naked mambo time.
I had to confess that not all of it was purely due to my procreation goals. Some of it was just me wanting to feel close to him for a few minutes. It was all I allowed myself. I couldn’t get too attached—no matter how easy he made it.
Ivy dragged me farther into the crowd. I smiled and waved to those I knew, chitchatted with a few others who asked about my overalls. Why, yes, I had a bunch of jeans just like these over at Kinleigh’s Attic. I loved them, but I’d definitely worn them as my own particular brand of billboard.
I caught a glimpse of wide shoulders in a dark jacket. The heavy kind August always wore against the elements. I was just being silly—the guy wasn’t even wearing a hat.
Then the man turned and the strong jaw and a pair of aviators struck me. Sometimes it stole my breath when I got a good look at him not covered in sawdust and the torn-up, long-sleeved thermal shirts he wore. Today he had on a bright white T-shirt with his logo peeking from the unbuttoned midnight Carhartt jacket.
Our gazes locked, and he smiled at me. No hiding, just a sweet, loaded smile full of promise.
Thank goddess for the bib overalls because it wasn’t the cool wind making my nipples tight, that was for sure.
“I forget how hot my brother is.”
“What?” I glanced at Ivy.
The corner of her mouth was tipped up. “I mean, look at all the girls looking at him.” She nodded to the group of women on the bench. “They’re eating him up. I should have brought out some of my spoons.”
“Right.” I frowned. “He’s objectively attractive.”
“Objectively, or is that objectifyingly?”
I cleared my throat. “That would be what those barely college-aged women are doing over there. They should have seen him last night.”
“And you did?”
“Yes, I helped him with his window. He’s cranky and ill-mannered when he doesn’t get his way.”
“Is that right?”
“You know that very well.” I shoved my hands into my hoodie pockets. “He’s perpetually cranky.”
“Not lately. Know anything about that?”
“Of course not.” My heart rate spiked as he cut through the field of people.
He stopped to shake hands with a few and passed out the simple white business card he had stashed on the inside pocket of his jacket more than once before he got to us. He pulled out a tiny bottle of hand sanitizer and quickly doused his hands before he reached into the stroller to tickle Rhiannon’s belly.
My heart turned over. That he’d actually think to do that when so few did unwound me.
“Hey, Ive.” He brushed a kiss over his sister’s cheek, then gave a somewhat friendly nod to her husband. “Lucky Charms.”
Rory inclined his head. “Mate.”
“Kin.” His voice lowered and he caught my hand for a moment before I twisted away.
He fell into step with us but kept veering closer to me. I glanced around and people were looking at us. Knowing smiles hidden behind their hot chocolates.
Did everyone have to assume a man and woman were together if they stood near one another? Or maybe they would because he kept brushing his pinkie along mine. And maybe I wanted to curl mine around his. Okay, maybe our pinkies actually tangled twice.
“Want a pretzel?”
“Me?”
August’s lips quirked up on one side. “Lucky Charms has bought Ivy about three different versions of bread.”
“My girl loves sweet breads,” Rory replied with a smirk.
“And his girl loves eating them.” Ivy tugged Rory down and gave him a kiss.
“Aye, that she does.”
I slanted them a look. The easy way they were together, the baby they had between them, the way they both checked on Rhiannon even though she’d been sleeping effortlessly through the noise of the crowds. Goddess, I wanted that.
More every day.
My pinky tangled with August’s again and I accidentally moved in closer to him. Suddenly, he dropped his arm over my shoulders and dragged me in close. “Or are you hoping I’ll go stand in that super long fried dough line?”
“Honey, would you please?” I drilled my knuckle into his ribs like I always used to. Back before we knew what skin on skin felt like.
His gaze dropped to my lips and the teasing honey felt far too real. I slipped away from him and shoved my hands into my pockets again. “But a pretzel would be fine, honestly. Don’t go to any trouble.”
“You want fried dough, you’ll get fried dough. Be right back.”
He cut through the crowd with his long legs. I really needed to stop staring at him.
“He needs a strong woman.”
“Yeah?” I asked absently. Was that what he needed? Should I step aside when he found that particular kind of woman?
My stomach twisted.
Would I even be able to? What if we had a baby together? Would there be split custody, and he or she would have two mommies?
“Yeah, he’d need one so he wouldn’t mow them down. He gets something in his head and he just won’t change his mind.”
I glanced at Ivy. “He’s not that rigid.”
“No? You used to mention that he’d never bend.”
“I just don’t think I understood him before.”
“Right. Seems reasonable.”
Before I could decipher what the heck that meant, there was a startled shout and…was that a quack?
All at once, the semi-orderly lines at the various vendor tables and booths surged forward and people started scattering.
“Where do these things keep coming from?”
I craned my neck to see who’d said that. Then people jumped out of the way and a half dozen ducks appeared. Two of them were fully grown with one quacking maniacally as they cut a swath through the crowd. They obviously were getting confused with all the people and the maze of tables.
A dog yipped and the quacking got louder.
Then there was flapping and squawks. I was pushed aside as Jared, our town sheriff, broke through the crowd. Next thing I knew, a dog got loose.
Chaos erupted.
Gina appeared, cupping something in her apron. She bent and scooped another—was that a chick? “Sheriff Brooks, you save those ducks right now. There are babies over here!”
“Dammit. Okay, folks, let’s just back it up please.” Jared pointed at a man. “Gary, you get that dog or I’ll fine you for Harley not being on a leash.”
“I’m trying. If everyone would stop moving.” The older man stomped on the grass, trying to catch the end of the red leash.
Ivy and I maneuvered the stroller to the side as the mama duck circled, quacking for one of the babies that had darted under a crate.
“Christian, go left!” Jared barked out the order.
“Got it!” Christian darted around me. “’Scuse me, Kinleigh.” He flashed me a charming smile and handed me his hat. “Hold that for me?”
I laughed and took his hat.
“Which way?”
Ivy and I pointed toward the gazebo stairs.
Christian went after the other adult duck as Gina scooped up another chick.
“Are you supposed to touch them?” Rory asked out of the side of his mouth.
“Not sure. Probably better than if one of those poor babies was hurt,” Ivy whispered back.
A woman with dreadlocks rushed over to Gina with a burlap bag, and Gina gratefully dumped them in there and darted after Jared.
“What’s going on?” August crowded in behind me and held up the mouthwateringly perfect fried dough like a prize in front of me.
I held up Christian’s hat and snatched the dough out of his hands and tore off a piece. “Ducks.” My ass slid across the front of his jeans and the urge to lean back on him was almost unbearable.
Ivy tore a corner off my dough and I practically growled at her. Until I noticed her gaze sweep up to where her brother was cozied up behind me.
Could I blame it on the crush of people? I glanced around to notice the townsfolk were dispersing. Hmm. Probably not.
“I should probably bring Christian his hat,” I blurted out around another bite.
“Why do you have Christian’s hat?” August’s voice was deceptively mild.
“Ducks.”
“Ducks?”
I nodded and took another bite as I scanned the crowd to where people were congregating. “Oh, look, see?”
August followed to where I was pointing.
“I can’t see,” Ivy said behind me.
I moved over and we both sighed out an audible, “Aww.”
Jared was heading down to the pier with the two adult ducks following him. Gina got to the edge of the pier and let go of her little babies as well and the line of them followed Jared.
It seemed way too cold to go in the lake as far as I was concerned, but they all hopped right off the edge and swam toward the bank where there was a bit of brush and a slice of beach.
“Isn’t that the sweetest thing you’ve ever seen?”
August smiled down at me. “Not a bad way to spend the day.”
I took another bite from my fried dough. “I should probably get back.”
“I’ll walk you back.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Handily, my store is right under yours.”
“Right. Handy.”
I moved to the stroller and smiled down at Rhiannon, whose big blue eyes were finally open. She gave me a drooly smile as I waved. I looked up at Ivy. “Can I leave this with you?” I held out the hat.
Rory took it. “We’ll take care of it.”
“Thanks.” I handed it to him and turned to Ivy. “Today’s a little crazy, but we’ll talk soon?”
She nodded. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”
“I know.”
Her gaze tracked up to August. “Both of you can.”
August touched my lower back, which got me moving.
“Kin, wait up.”
I lengthened my stride. “I need to get back.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?” The doughy sweetness now tasted like sawdust, and Ivy’s words filled my brain. She didn’t seem mad at me, but she didn’t seem happy either.
August snagged my hand and drew me to a stop before I could get to the stairs. “Will I see you tonight?”
I flashed a bright smile at him. “I just watched a bunch of baby ducklings sprint across the park. If that didn’t make me want to try to make a baby tonight, what would?”
“Right.”
I could see the disappointment in his eyes, but then two customers came up the walk—one obviously who wanted to talk to August.
He heaved out a breath. “I’ll find you later.” He waved to the couple. “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Willoughby, it’s nice to see you again.”
They both smiled and August gestured for them go ahead as he opened the door for them. He paused for a second, giving me a tight smile before he followed them inside.
I tipped my head back, then tossed my cold fried dough into the garbage can before I went up to my own store. So much for a perfect day.
Nineteen
“Are you serious about this thing?” my younger brother Caleb asked.
I propped my hands on my hips as I gazed at the petite armoire I’d built for Kinleigh without her knowledge. After some discussion, she’d settled on wanting a skinny dresser instead for that spot in her shop where her customers tried on clothes and accessories, so I’d started working on that too. She hadn’t mentioned our bartering arrangement again so I figured I’d have to beg for the pillows.
In the meantime, I’d worked on this stuff during the hours I was supposed to be sleeping after Kinleigh sent me home after my sperm insertion duties were done.
But I wasn’t bitter. Exactly.
The armoire was a simple piece made from that wind-damaged sugar maple behind the duplex I’d finally taken down with some help from my friends. I’d used some other materials too, since it was colder than balls so my time outside sourcing wood had been limited. But everything from the carved feet to the louvered doors and hand pulls on the drawers had been crafted with her shop’s style in mind.
The small moon and stars and ladybug details I’d added in secret places were just for me—and maybe Kinleigh, if I ever shared my idea for a line of baby furniture. For now, I was working on the piece I’d promised my sister and I had the bookshelf in my bedroom, waiting for the day we’d have our own baby.
If it happened. So many fucking ifs. They were making me crazy.
“Spill it,” Caleb said when I continued to stare at the armoire and brood.
Something I was becoming an expert at.
“What?”
“You know what. This is for that Kinleigh broad, right?”
“Don’t call her a broad, you oaf.” I shoved him hard in the shoulder.
“Didn’t hurt,” he said affably, much as he had when we were kids and I whomped him on the back for taking my bike or swooping in and stealing the fish I’d been trying to reel in.
He’d always been big on being as annoying as possible, and now that he was in his late twenties, he hadn’t changed much. Except now he had two main priorities—teaching his students in second grade at the private elementary school and chasing women. In that order.
His popularity in town with the fairer sex was legendary, equivalent to his closest friend Lucky. They were bad influences on each other in the extreme, often trying to outdo the other in whatever way pos
sible.
If Lucky hooked up with some woman within a day of arriving in town, Caleb made it his mission to achieve the same feat on the next hapless newcomer by dinner time. They didn’t lie about their intentions and from what I’d seen, Caleb was always a gentleman and careful about respecting boundaries. He just didn’t stick to pollenating any one flower for long.
“You ever think about settling down?”
His loud laughter echoed through the store and had a couple browsing the kitchen furniture in back turning toward us with matching frowns. “You serious, bro? Why would I do that?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe so Ma wouldn’t always have to worry you’ll sleep with the wrong woman and some husband will take a shot at you?”
“That was one time. I didn’t know she was married. She lied to me. You know I don’t do that sort of thing.” He held up his hands, palms out. “I have a good time, but I don’t poach. Everything is nice and tidy and aboveboard.”
“Relationships aren’t meant to be tidy.”
“Right, that’s why I don’t have them. Much easier to scratch that itch and roll on, no harm, no foul. Besides, Ivy gave Ma her beloved grandchild, so I’m off the hook there, thank fuck.”
“You think Ivy having a baby means you’ll never have to settle down? Like that’s your goal? To be forever alone?”
He stared at me as if I was an alien life form, plunked down right in the center of Crescent Cove with my spaceship twinkling merrily behind me. “What else would my goal be? Literally every single person of childbearing age in this town is procreating or dreaming of it or wondering who else is currently knocked up. You mad because I’m not joining the water drinkers, son?” He stroked his scruffy golden jaw. Depending on if he was in school or not, that scruff tended to edge closer toward a full beard. “My guess is you’re lining up with your cup with that pretty redhead upstairs. Or is she lining up with her cup?”
I didn’t have a chance to answer. The kitchen browsers had looked through the selection of farmhouse style chairs and stools I had on the premises, along with flipping through my lookbook of custom designs I’d made in the past, and wanted to discuss creating ones to their own precise specifications.