Daddy in Disguise: Crescent Cove Book 7 Read online

  Daddy in Disguise

  Crescent Cove Book 7

  Taryn Quinn

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  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.

  Daddy in Disguise

  © 2019 Taryn Quinn

  Rainbow Rage Publishing

  Cover by LateNite Designs

  Photograph by Lindee Robinson Photography

  Models: Sam Parker & Shannon Lorriane

  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: October 2019

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  I’m the one who isn’t pregnant. Yet…

  Expanding my successful café was a no-brainer.

  Sleeping with the contractor?

  Well, mix some hormones, excellent coffee, and the romantic atmosphere of the movie Halloween, and naked stuff happens.

  Yeah, Gideon is smokin’ hot, as shown by the photos from that pesky camera crew that’s suddenly following us around.

  Say what?

  Because surprise—he’s a single father, and now he’s the most eligible one in Crescent Cove.

  Every horny woman in our small town wants a go at his tool…belt.

  And then we’re caught on camera—I still had my pants on, thank you—and all Hades breaks loose.

  Now the little secret he kept from me isn’t nearly as important as Gideon keeping custody of his daughter.

  When that full moon rises on Halloween, I might finally be dropping my mask. And risking it all for love…and really good hammering.

  Author’s note: This romantic comedy is Macy and Gideon’s story—finally!—and has a happily-ever-after ending.

  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

  Epilogue

  Crescent Cove Character Chart

  Taryn Quinn

  Quinn and Elliott

  About Taryn Quinn

  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.

  For the dads who step up.

  And the women who love another woman’s child unconditionally.

  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.”

  “But 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 n
eeded 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 for 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.

  I frowned as more shavings came pinging over his shoulder.

  What was he doing?

  I dared to creep a little closer. It seemed like a lot more delicate work than just a regular corner finishing. I was well-versed in Gideon’s woodworking capabilities. Brewed Awakening was full of his innovative shelves and benches.

  He didn’t take the time to do intricate work very often. Every once in awhile, I caught him doing something special, but he was often rushing to do five different jobs in and around town. The citizens of the Cove kept him very busy.

  “Well, come on. Take a look then. Damn woman, always ruining any surprises.”

  I jumped. “Shit, Gideon.”

  He glanced over his shoulder. “I told you to keep out of here until we were further along.”

  I p
ut my hands on my hips. Now I didn’t want to look, dammit.

  Liar. You want to see it so bad that you can taste it.

  “It’s my place. I should be able to come in and take a look around.”

  He swiped at his forehead with his forearm, leaving behind a trail of sawdust. My lips twitched. And okay, I couldn’t stop myself from trying to see what he was blocking. Too bad his rather delicious ass was throwing a shadow over it.

  I did love a man who had a little junk in his trunk. So many didn’t. Not that I had a huge amount of knowledge there, but I’d done enough soul-searching—read, stupid hookups—in my twenties. As thirty approached, I’d become a little more discerning.

  Evidently, a lot more. Cobwebs had been growing in my lingerie drawer since I moved to the Cove.

  “You trusted me to take on this job, so trust me to finish it.”

  I crossed my arms over my traitorous tits. The deep timbre of his voice always activated my stupid nipples. It was like they were damn divining rods to our very favorite water source. “It’s not a matter of trust.”

  “Isn’t it though?”

  “We open in six weeks, Gideon. I need to train people in here, get the bar set up. I’ve had the liquor license forever and the booze is sitting in my backroom gathering dust.”