by Quinn, Taryn
He was happy for me—for us. But there was more than a little sibling worry in there too.
I barely had time to focus on his concern with all the scooping and squealing from the patrons. The rock of Gibraltar I was wearing was the talk of the town as much as my flavors.
Rory made me take a break at dinner and handed me a hamburger from the cookout going on over on the pier. I might’ve almost eaten my own fingers with how fast I wolfed it down.
August worked the dinner shift, and my mother came to help for the evening. She oohed and aahed over the ring and teared up a little and hugged Rory. All very good signs. My dad was supposed to take a last shift before the fireworks, but I ran out of ice cream.
Literally, all of it—gone.
I couldn’t even count the gallons of ice cream, crushed ice, and custard I’d sold. Even my backups I’d had stashed at August’s house and in Macy’s freezer were gone.
“I can’t believe it.”
Rory sat next to me under the three fans. “Can’t believe what? That you’re marrying the most attractive Irishman in town?”
“Well, you’re the only man actually from Ireland in town. Though quite a few like to pretend they’re full Irish in the month of March.”
“Imposters.
I laughed. “No, that I sold everything.” I looked down at my ring. “But the marrying you is pretty awesome too.”
“Gee, thanks.”
I swallowed and twisted my ring back and forth. “Rory?”
“Yeah?”
“Would you be frightfully offended if I wore your ring on a chain while I’m working?”
“You know you can’t take it off once I put it on that finger.”
My eyes blurred. “I’m afraid I’m going to lose it. And I’m getting it ruined with all the sticky sauces and whipped cream. I just don’t know what I’d do if I lost it.”
“Ah, love. Don’t worry about it.”
“No, I will worry.”
“I mean, you can wear it on a chain.”
“Oh, good. It’s so gorgeous, but it’s…really big.”
“That’s what she said.”
I elbowed him. “You’re hanging out with Ian too much.”
“I’m learning how to change nappies. You should be excited.”
“Oh, I am.” I leaned my head on his shoulder. “I really am.”
“Come on. Let’s go sit in the gazebo and watch the boats until the fireworks start.”
“That sounds amazing.”
He stood and took a bottle of water from under the counter and handed it to me. I had a lot of ice cream to make tonight. But for now, I was going to enjoy some time with my fiancé.
We’d put up the closed sign half an hour ago, but people kept walking by hopefully to see if we changed our minds. We put the shutters down, then walked over to the gazebo hand in hand.
I was a sticky mess and needed a shower, but it had been a pretty perfect day.
Surprisingly, the gazebo wasn’t overrun with people. It was usually the best place to watch the fireworks. The closer we got to the stairs, the more I saw why.
“What did you do?”
“Well, I asked people to let me use this just for a few minutes. When I explained the reason, they were all too happy to give me a moment with you in here alone.”
“On the Fourth of July?”
“Yes. Just for a few minutes.”
He drew me in to sit on the bench. There were balloons all over the gazebo with the names Rory and Ivy on them. Streamers flowed and little sparklers were set to be lit.
It was perfect and sweet.
I turned to find him on his knee again.
My vision swam. “I think you already asked this question.”
“I did. And I’m sorry I’ve had a bit of fun with you today. You should have seen your face when you saw that piece of glass.”
“Glass?” I looked down at my ring.
“I’m a wealthy man, Ivy, but I’m not sure even Gates could afford that rock.”
“He probably could.”
He laughed and opened his hand to reveal a small blue box. “I love you madly, and I would never give you a ring that didn’t suit you.”
My eyes overflowed as I took in the much smaller vintage-style setting with its trio of diamonds. The bottom one was longer and pointed, and the other two were smaller and round—
“Oh my God. It’s an ice cream cone.” I covered my mouth. “You gave me ice cream.”
He grinned. “Only fitting since you gave me the world. There’s something else you gave me too. Someone.” He tapped the ring. “Three stones there. One longer than the others—”
“That’s what he said.”
His grin turned into laughter. “That one was for our baby, you perv. The cornerstone of our life now.”
I couldn’t stop the happy tears. “Oh, Rory.”
“Will you be my wife, Ivy Rose?”
“Yes. If you’ll be my husband, Rory Michael.” I’d only just learned his middle name, and this seemed like a fine time to use it.
He slid the gorgeous ring on my finger, and I leaned forward to kiss him, long and sweet.
Our happily ever after started now.
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Daddy in Disguise
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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.
Daddy in Disguise
© 2019 Taryn Quinn
Rainbow Rage Publishing
Cover by LateNite Designs
Photograph by Lindee Robinson Photography
Models: Sam Parker & Shannon Lorraine
All Rights Are Reserved.
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First ebook edition: October 2019
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One
Sometimes the universe just did not see fit to provide what you wanted. In this case, I wanted to be alone.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay and help clean up?”
“Go.” If I had to watch my frighteningly pregnant friend—and original employee—teeter around the café any more tonight, I was going to have a damn nervous breakdown. “Moose has texted me no less than three times looking for you.”
Veronica Masterson, café baker extraordinaire and wife of Murphy aka Moose, sighed. “He’s always worried.”
“Considering you barely fit behind the wheel of your huge-ass SUV, it’s not shocking.” Because, of course, Vee had to overachieve in all ways, including babies. One wasn’t enough. Which, hey, I got it. Baby fever was at an all-time high in Crescent Cove. But man, twins right after having a baby?
Yeah. No thank you very much times a billion.
“Give Bray a big smacking kiss for me.” Okay, yes, I was soft on her little boy. I couldn’t help it. Every time he saw me, he suction-cupped himself to me like an octopus. And he was just as leggy as one, thanks to his huge dad.
“I will. Murphy said he was conning him into another bedtime read.”
“Llama, Llama?”
“Is there any other book these days?”
I hid a smile. I rather liked that one myself—enough to give it to most of the kids in the ever-expanding baby-crazy group of women who kept taking over my café, Brewed Awakening.
I steered her toward the door. “It was a light evening. Cleanup will be a snap.”
“Bu
t Clara already left. She had that test—”
“Vee, I’m a big girl. I’ve been closing this place for well over two years now.” And as sweet as my server was, I was a helluva lot faster than Clara anyway.
“Almost three, actually.”
My heart did a little twist in my chest. “Yes, three.” I wasn’t exactly sure where the whole of the summer went, but my anniversary was coming up again. Which just happened to coincide with Halloween, my favorite time of year.
“I don’t want to leave you here alone.”
“What exactly is going to happen in the Cove?”
“You don’t know. Serial killers love to use small towns because it’s least expected.”
I sighed as I nudged her toward the door. “You gotta stop listening to those podcasts.”
Vee gave me some side-eye. “You love horror movies, and yet you won’t look at the realistic parts of the world.”
“I don’t need to. Shit is hard enough. Besides, I like the pretend kind of murder and mayhem where I know the killer is going to get his comeuppance.” That wasn’t exactly true. At least in the good kinds of horror movies, the bad guy had to come back at the end.
However, my favorite worrywart had to be on her way. And thankfully, she wasn’t into watching scary flicks, so she was none the wiser.
“Is Gideon next door at least?” Vee hung her cross-body purse over her head and swung it around to the back since, surprise, it didn’t fit in the front.
I jumped back a step before I got smacked with some sort of the baby paraphernalia that was forever spilling out of that thing. “I’m not sure. I’m not his keeper.”
Okay, so that sounded a little bitchy. I was definitely not his keeper. Even if I kept sneaking over there to see what was what. However, it wasn’t because of the man.
Not exactly.
Nope, it was because he and his crew were working on my newest acquisition, The Haunt. A restaurant that combined my two favorite things, food and horror movie memorabilia. I’d managed to procure a good mix of employees from the café who wanted to do something different as well as bring in some fresh blood—pun intended.
Not only did I have an anniversary deal to figure out for Brewed Awakening, this year, I was adding another whole business to that annual event. And my nerves were at an all-time high. At this point, I didn’t even know if the restaurant was going to be ready.
Mostly because my favorite carpenter-slash-contractor wouldn’t give me a straight answer about what was going on next door. In fact, he kept barring me from going over there. Oh, he gave me really good explanations as to why I couldn’t. Insurance and safety and blah, blah, blah.
But I was going crazy. I needed to freaking know how far off schedule he was. Surely, he wouldn’t keep putting me off unless that was the case. Guys needed that ego stroke. He’d want to show it off.
Then again, Gideon never quite reacted how I expected. I knew from experience his work was beyond compare. He’d remodeled the café exactly how I wanted it with a few detours I hadn’t known I needed. I trusted him. At least when it came to the things in his tool belt.
Under the belt? Well, that was debatable.
I mean, how many times had we almost kissed in two years? A damn fuckton, that was how many. And he never sealed the deal. So, either he wasn’t that into me or…
I didn’t have the mental bandwidth to figure out the or.
Vee turned around just as I towed her through the door. “I’ll just sit down in the corner. I won’t make a sound.”
“Creampuff, you don’t know the definition of not making a sound.”
She huffed out a breath, blowing a blond curl out of her softly rounded face. “Text me when you’re done.”
“I never leave, remember? My apartment is literally upstairs. I’ll be fine. I’ll even lock the door right after you.”
Her huge blue eyes were about three minutes from full-blown tears. Preggo hormones must be wreaking havoc today. I so could not deal with that. I pushed the door open and unclipped her keys from the bag of death. “Take these,” I handed them to her, “and go home to your husband.”
“But—”
“Goodnight. Go cuddle your men.” I closed the door and dug out my own keys and jangled them in the window. “Go.”
She finally turned toward her car. Her dejected eyes almost made me waver. Almost. Finally, she waved, and I saw just how tired she was when she sighed and got in her car.
I snicked the lock and even typed my code into the security panel. I was from Chicago. Security was automatic for me, regardless of the ultra-safe small town I’d ended up in. I’d needed a change after…well, just after everything.
I’d literally thrown a dart at the state of New York and ended up moving my entire life to Crescent Cove. That was after I’d played a drunken game of pin the tail on my future. A bastardized version of the childhood game with a map of the United States instead of a cartoon donkey.
The map had been pinned to the ectoplasm green wall in my old house. A color I would never have chosen but had happily painted to make Malcolm happy. Hey, he was a kid. Made sense. But me? I might as well have been one too.
Back then, I’d been young, eager, and stupid. Back then, I’d thought I was building toward a future.
Then I’d learned the truth and there had been much Jack Daniels. I’d needed a fresh start.
While I was drunk, I found New York.
When I sobered up and stopped crying about shit that would never change, I got angry. And that was when I’d gone into research mode. I sold my house and my coffee truck for a sizable figure and started over.
And here I was, taking another gamble with my savings. This time, my emotions were in check. This time, I’d created a business plan and had taken steps to correctly position myself for success. Not the blind luck I’d backed into with the café. I’d grown quickly and invested wisely, but it was still insane to open a restaurant. I was gambling on the small town’s upward climb. More people were moving in and Crescent Cove was ever expanding with its epic baby boom.
Maybe I should have gone with baby-centric themes instead of the life-sized animatronic Michael Myers I’d sunk an absurd amount of money in. Whatever. It was too late now.
I was banking on my style.
It had worked for Brewed Awakening. The coffee shop was full of pieces straight from horror movie culture. Rylee had been right about pushing forward with the movie idea with viewing parties and specialized popcorn and treats. Money was pouring into the bank. Enough that I’d added a banquet room to The Haunt for gatherings and bigger viewing parties.
There just wasn’t much to do for people in this town. They were starving for fun.
And I was going to give it to them. If John Gideon and his crew actually ever finished the damn restaurant.
Maybe I’d just take a little peek. It was my place, after all.
I scrubbed my palm down my jeans as I made my way to the connecting doors. A huge eyesore in the form of a piece of plywood had been taped over the double doors. Not only was it taped, but Gideon’s crew had added a few nailed pieces of wood to keep me out.
I pried my fingers under one of the planks until the nail wiggled enough for me to pull it free. The nail at the top of the two-by-four allowed me to swing it down to rest against the wall. I winced at the scratch I made in the toffee-colored paint. That was what touch-up paint was for, right?
Now there was just enough room for me to duck behind the huge sheet of plywood.
I’d sneaked in last night, but I’d been waylaid by Lucky, one of Gideon’s employees. He was the one who’d tacked up the extra wood.
Like a few pieces of soft pine were going to stop me.
I slipped inside and the scent of stain with a sawdust chaser nearly knocked me over. Drop-cloths were draped over everything, leaving ghost-like figures that could be booths or tables or monsters. With my place, it really was a crapshoot which you’d find.
I’d won an auction f
or a replica of the 80’s movie version of Swamp Thing last month. It had been delivered to much fanfare during the week. I wondered which lump was the former Dr. Holland.
I made it to what should be the main dining area and the low murmur of voices had me scrambling back behind a—son of a bitch. I clipped my pinkie toe on the carved foot of a booth. Goddammit. I spun around in circles and resisted the urge to howl.
The only things not draped were the sawhorses Gideon was forever using to cut stacks of lumber. I gripped the top of it and touched my forehead to it as the stars and black spots receded.
Fuck.
When the pain lessened, dialogue from Halloween dented the quiet of the night. The telltale piano and spine-tingling strings were broken up by the lame love scene. I knew this movie by heart.
I hobbled my way to the back of the dining area to the bar. A ridiculously large laptop was sitting on the half-covered bar top. The low light from the screen flickered in the near dark.
A LED lamp threw the band of carved wood along the front in stark relief. The closer I got, the louder the movie became. Then I noticed the tick of shavings hitting the floor around a very familiar pair of Timberlands.
John Gideon. It couldn’t be Lucky or Frank. Nope, it had to be the man himself. And it had been a damn long day. That was the only reason I let myself do a nice long perusal of all six-feet-three inches of him.
Sure.
That’s the reason. Tell yourself another lie.
He had his yellow safety glasses on as he used the world’s smallest chisel to carve into the corner of my bar. His dark hair was slicked back, but the ends were curling up. He tried so hard to keep a smooth, well-groomed look but his hair just wouldn’t be tamed.
I didn’t mind. I liked it a little wild.
I always mourned his hair when he actually remembered to go to the lone hairdresser in the Cove. The town barber had retired to Florida. Many men had learned the fine art of hair products this past year. John Gideon included, damn him.