Rockstar Baby: Crescent Cove Book 6

by Quinn, Taryn

  Rockstar Baby

  Crescent Cove Book 6

  Taryn Quinn

  eBooks are not transferable.

  They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Rockstar Baby

  © 2019 Taryn Quinn

  Rainbow Rage Publishing

  Cover by LateNite Designs

  Photograph by Shutterstock

  All Rights Are Reserved.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  First ebook edition: 2019

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  Famous dude snowed in for a night makes unplanned baby with the saucy waitress who served him. News at 11.

  I could see the tabloids now.

  Yeah, I play guitar and sing occasionally. But my main role is as a producer for other musicians.

  That’s why I came to Crescent Cove—to help rockstar Kellan McGuire with his first solo project.

  Not to get stuck in a surprise snowstorm with a smart, funny lass with eyes as blue as her thong.

  (It had polka dots too.)

  The next morning I was on a flight back to LA.

  I returned to town five months later.

  To help Kellan.

  Right.

  And saw Ivy with a swollen belly.

  Despite our different worlds, I ached to make her mine.

  And our baby.

  But nothing is as simple as it seems...and sweet Ivy might be hiding more than I guessed.

  Author’s Note: Surprise! Producer Rory Ferguson is the first character to cross over from our Oblivion World...but he isn’t the last! He doesn’t start out as a daddy, but his unexpected baby with Ivy will be his biggest production yet. Rockstar Baby is a standalone romantic comedy with a HEA ending and no cliffhanger.

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Taryn Quinn

  Quinn and Elliott

  About Taryn Quinn

  Oblivion World Character Chart

  Acknowledgments

  Sometimes we make up fictional places that end up having the same names as actual places. These are our fictional interpretations only. Please grant us leeway if our creative vision isn't true to reality.

  A great big THANK YOU to our Facebook group, the Word Wenches.

  You guys make us laugh and we’re grateful to you for all your support.

  Special thanks this round goes to Janeen P for naming Ivy’s ice cream truck, as well as Barbara B & Tricia D for helping us out with a few fun ideas for Ivy’s business!

  And Crystal B for her baby name choice. ;)

  You ladies rock!

  One

  Fuck me running.

  I peered through the windshield at the blur of white coloring the world around me. The thunk-thunk-thunk of the wipers didn’t do a thing for visibility. The sound just pissed me off.

  If the plane hadn’t been delayed, I would’ve traversed these back roads in the daylight. Or closer to it. Of course Kellan hadn’t seen fit to tell me that he lived in the middle of nowhere.

  His hometown was probably rustic and lovely in the summer. In this hell they called winter? It was complete shite.

  Add in something called lake effect on the weather report—what the heck was that?—and I was already over Turnbull, New York before I’d even reached it.

  My cell rang through the audio system of my rental car. Kellan McGuire.

  The reason I was even here. The guy was lucky I liked him.

  “Kellan, I’m almost there.”

  “Are you?” He didn’t sound as happy as he should have considering the thousands of miles I’d traveled.

  Hello, I was the pissed off traveler. He was the bloke sitting on his living room couch and twirling a pencil while he pretended to be productive.

  “I think so. Maybe.”

  “What mile marker did you pass?”

  “Come again?”

  “There’s mile markers on the side of the road. They’re to help during winter conditions since we get some travelers passing through to Syracuse and Rochester.”

  I squinted into the snow slanting down in front of my headlights and wondered why I hadn’t hired a driver.

  It’ll be more of an adventure this way.

  Turnbull isn’t far from the airport.

  When else am I going to see the quaint bits of New York?

  I was a fucking moron.

  “I can’t see a bloody thing out here,” I muttered.

  “They’re there, trust me.”

  “I’ve been driving a good while and I haven’t seen a damn thing but snow. What the hell is lake effect? I thought being near bodies of water was a good thing.”

  Kellan let out a low laugh. “Not this time of year around here. Look, it’s getting late.”

  I glanced at the time. Past ten. Jesus. I hadn’t realized I’d been driving this long. As it was, I’d be in town barely a day before I hopped on the red eye back to LA tomorrow night. Kellan and I were working on a song together and between both of our hectic schedules, a day was all we’d been able to carve out.

  The hours were ticking by and I was driving in circles in a blizzard. It was a miracle I’d even made it across the country to New York when flights were being cancelled right and left.

  “You’re right, it is. My GPS says I’m on North Hollow. Isn’t that the road I’m supposed to be on?”

  “If you’re headed to Turnbull, yes, but I’m just outside Turnbull. Remember I told you it was easier to go to Crescent Cove then program it for my address? Otherwise the GPS takes you the other way.”

  “The way with no mile markers?”

  Kellan laughed. “Essentially. Sorry, man.”

  For God’s sake, I could see nothing out here. Even a deer would be welcome company. And where were all the other vehicles? Surely someone else had to live in this godforsaken backwoods area.

  Maybe not. Maybe this was where they’d find my body. I’d become the subject of one of those tragic dead guy music specials. Did they even do those anymore?

  Fuck, I’d have had more sex if I’d known this would be my last stand. I didn’t even have on proper footwear. The autopsy pictures would show my beat up Jordans with the hole in the heel and everyone would murmur about how I must have spent all my money on wine, women, and song.

  More like beer, pizza, and recording equipment.

  “Look, you’re closer to Crescent Cove than you are to my place. With the storm, why don’t you go back to town and get a room for the night? By morning, the storm should be easing up so you can
make it out here. Or better yet, I’ll come to you. Just text me where you’re staying.”

  It took me a moment to decipher what he was rambling on about, since I was currently trying not to slide off the road in my small sedan. I should have demanded a truck at the very least. This car had no traction whatsoever.

  “You must be joking.”

  Kellan cleared his throat. “It’s late, man.”

  “So you already said. Is it your bedtime or something? Need I remind you that I traveled across country to help you with your first solo single? You’re the one who wanted to make sure it was a success.”

  Kellan had basically begged me, but I wouldn’t remind him of that yet. Unless he gave me no choice.

  I was hotly in demand. It was simply a fact. If I took the time to work with someone, they had serious chops and there was a good likelihood of our collaboration being a hit. Or someone had requested a favor. That was rarer, because I didn’t make a habit of putting myself in that position. I didn’t like to be beholden to anyone. Ever. Or for anyone to be beholden to me.

  Life was less messy that way.

  “I did. I do. But Christ, man, we just got Wolf to sleep. He’s the fussiest sleeper on the planet.”

  “Look, mate, I feel for you with your issues with your pet dog, but—”

  Kellan laughed long and hard, filling the car with the sound. “Wolf’s my son. Nice one with the dog though.”

  I frowned although he couldn’t see me. “I didn’t know you had any of those.”

  “Yeah, well, came as a surprise to me too, but it’s a been a couple of years and here we are.”

  “I’m happy for you, but I’m not happy for me. For one, I can’t even find a lane to turn around in.” Or anything but trees. And snow. And darkness. And snow.

  “If you’re on North Hollow, go up to the old, closed Heaphy’s gas station. Turn around there then follow North Hollow back to a 4-way stop and take a left. That’ll take you right into Crescent Cove in about twenty miles or so.”

  “Twenty miles? Why can’t I just program the GPS from here?” I didn’t see any gas station. Of course it had to be an old, non-functional one when I’d just noticed my tank was stuck near E.

  So much for the rental car place making sure the car was set to go. Sure, no problem, I can stop for gas out in the middle of the woods. Why not?

  “You can but the amount of woods in this area sometimes gives it fits. Just follow my directions and you’ll be fine. In this weather, you don’t want to be taking the scenic route the GPS will try to take you on.”

  “Scenic, is it? Is that what they’re calling this?”

  Kellan heaved out a sigh. “Look, man, I’m sorry about all this. Try to find the gas station. If you can’t, call me back in an hour and I’ll come find you. If I try to leave now, Wolf will hear it and Maggie will pitch a fit.”

  It was my turn to sigh. “Along with the son, you have a girlfriend too?” It was only logical, but I didn’t get too personal with the people I worked with if I could help it.

  I was focused on the music. Only the music. I didn’t give two figs about who was waiting—or not waiting—at the dinner table.

  “Wife. Didn’t we discuss all this already?”

  We probably had, but I tended to tune out when it came to family and all that. It was a potential job hazard in my line of work. Not that I had any looming entanglements on the horizon, but I also made sure not to cultivate them. My happiness was found in the studio, not in building family units.

  I’d spent enough time trying to put an ocean between me and mine.

  My old man didn’t get my love of music versus a good stable job like he had in the fields. My mum wasn’t much better. She’d stayed home with her children and thought that a family was the cornerstone of life. My younger brother Thomas went his own way, as did my younger sister Maureen. Yet my mum behaved as if we were living in a Norman Rockwell painting. Even if her marriage didn’t seem particularly happy and her kids weren’t close, the idea of home and hearth was all she cared about.

  Not me. I wasn’t doing anything for the sake of tradition or appearances. And I was lucky enough not to have to please anyone but myself.

  “Don’t remember, sorry.” I shrugged it off. “I won’t be your best friend, but I’ll help you get that hit single you’re looking for.”

  “Fine by me. I’ve already got a best friend and no particular fondness for the warm and fuzzies myself.” Kellan paused. “So, give me that call if you can’t find your way back to the Cove, or else text me in the morning and I’ll meet you before we come back here to use my studio. Hope you can find accommodations. See Sage at The Hummingbird’s Nest if all else fails.”

  I grunted and disconnected the call. Thanks for nothing.

  Goddamn rockstars. Always thought the world revolved around them.

  The sad part was they were usually right. Especially the successful ones like Kellan McGuire. As the frontman for the rock band Wilder Mind, he made the girls scream and his songs climbed the charts. Until one of the members had quit and Kellan had gotten the itch to play on his own on the side.

  I played music now and then, sitting in with bands for my own entertainment or if a song needed something the artist couldn’t provide. But I was a part-time rocker at best. I treated music as art, but I also kept an eye on the business end. Whether or not my pop believed my work to be “artsy fartsy”, his words not mine.

  I kept driving until I found the gas station Kellan had mentioned. I didn’t entirely trust his directions, and they were hard to follow in this inclement weather in any case. It was practically impossible to see anything. But somehow the huge sign for Heaphy’s still partially worked, a couple of the letters gleaming in neon in the darkness.

  After making a U-turn, I went back the way I’d come from. I drove and drove and drove until I was about to turn to the GPS out of desperation. I didn’t see any 4-way stop. Maybe Kellan had been drinking. Maybe I’d become snow blind.

  Struck incapable by lake effect, whatever the flying fuck that was.

  Then a stop sign appeared out of the darkness like a battered red angel. The sign was moving in the wind. I would’ve said that didn’t seem possible, but my rental car was too.

  Definitely getting a truck next time. Or a battering ram.

  I made the left turn. Barely. The car fishtailed and the ditch on the side of the road came frighteningly close before somehow the tires bore down and gripped the road.

  Heart in my throat, I soldiered on at the brisk speed of…eleven miles an hour.

  This place was a hellhole. I was not ever returning. I didn’t care if Kellan bribed me with a million dollars and a lifetime of producing credits. I’d just stick to sunny California, thanks. When I needed a taste of cold, I’d go home to Ireland or visit my sister in Cheltenham.

  It felt as if I was driving forever, although that might’ve been due to my reduced speed. I didn’t trust this car. Certainly didn’t trust the road. Weren’t they supposed to be out sanding or salting or something?

  They probably would’ve been had it not been approaching eleven now. No one was driving out here but me.

  A colossal idiot.

  When the small green sign for Crescent Cove swam into view, coming out of the snowy dark like an oasis in the desert, I nearly wept.

  Sweet bleeding Christ, I was here. I’d found it.

  Now to acquire lodging for the evening.

  I peered through the windshield at the rows of tidy buildings and storefronts as I passed them, most of them dark and closed up for the day. Kellan had mentioned an inn. I’d have to turn on the GPS for that one. Small town or not, there were enough side streets that I didn’t want to be circling around all night.

  Assuming I didn’t end up sleeping in my car. I’d probably freeze.

  I scratched my chin. Huh, that’d be a new experience. Maybe I could get a song out of it.

  One I wouldn’t give to Kellan. He was on his own.


  A sign labeled Main Street came briefly into view and I grinned. Thank God. The place Kellan had mentioned was probably near here.

  I hoped.

  My stomach growled as I slowed to a crawl near the famed lake Crescent Cove was known for, at least according to Kellan. The snowstorm made it seem like a huge dark bowl of wind-whipped water with spots that were flat and dense. Likely parts that were iced over. I squinted at the festively lit gazebo and tried to imagine this quaint little spot festooned for Christmas. Probably quite pretty, if one was into small towns. I’d grown up in one and had been eager to leave it as soon as I turned eighteen.

  What was quaint to some seemed like a strait jacket to others. I’d had no desire to live in a snow globe, with or without the flakes.

  A sign caught my eye not far from the pier that led down to the gazebo. The Rusty Spoon.

  My stomach rumbled again. That would do just fine.

  Small rural towns often had diners. And thank God for that. What else would be open at this time of night? Other than possibly some swanky place probably down to a dessert and drink menu at best.

  I’d take my chances with the grease and a corner booth—after I found the inn.