Fireman Daddy: a Crescent Cove Bite Read online

  Fireman Daddy

  a Crescent Cove Bite

  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.

  Fireman Daddy

  © 2020 Taryn Quinn

  Rainbow Rage Publishing

  Cover by LateNite Designs

  Photograph by Adobe Stock

  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: July 2020

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  I got my happily-ever-after…except it wasn’t.

  My HEA ended when my formerly star quarterback husband slept with—no, not our old head cheerleader. Someone else. Hello, this isn’t a Lifetime movie.

  So, I left New York City and went home to small town Crescent Cove. I’d inherited a bar that was apparently the watering hole for local firemen. Super hot firemen, namely one in particular.

  Okay, so maybe this is a Lifetime movie.

  Especially since the fire code chief—and my ex’s high school friend—keeps hassling me about getting the bar up to code, when all I want to do is get the place fixed up so I can go back to the city.

  Don’t I?

  But Jake is making me remember why I love my hometown. And it turns out he isn’t only good at preventing fires, he’s even better at starting them.

  And the one between us may just burn forever…

  Author’s note: Jake isn’t a daddy yet, but if he has his way, he’ll be knocking up Erica faster than you can say five-alarm blaze. Fireman Daddy is a 18K novella with no cliffhanger and a happily-ever-after.

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Epilogue

  CEO Daddy

  Crescent Cove World

  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 every girl who ever wanted to get swept off her feet by a hot fireman.

  One

  The wind tossed my hair up and around my face, obscuring my vision. Too late—I’d already seen my future. Hiding behind my hair might be preferable, but it certainly wouldn’t make my sudden status as a proprietress any less daunting.

  I scooped my wild dark hair back and wished for one of my hair ties. My sleek New York City blow-out wasn’t going to last through this. I could already feel my curls frizzing in the humidity. More accurately, I probably wouldn’t last through this.

  I swore I’d never be back here again. Especially this spot on the broken pavement thanks to a particularly heinous winter. I pulled out my phone and opened my notes app.

  Call paver.

  Was that a hole in the neon glass of the sign? Madre de dios.

  Research who fixes neon signs from 1987.

  I shoved my phone back into my purse and picked my way across the uneven parking lot. I winced at the gravel dust on my crimson Jimmy Choo shoes. I should have stopped at my sister’s house to change, but that would lead to a whole Ramos family reunion thing I wasn’t quite ready for. Being the eldest daughter came with a lot of chaos and responsibilities. I had one older brother and three younger sisters. It was exhausting.

  Maybe I’d take advantage of my not-so-new bar and have a shot or two to gird my loins.

  I climbed the rickety stairs and sighed as I pulled my phone out again. I should probably just hold onto it.

  Find reputable contractor.

  I knew I should have just let the lawyer take care of it. I’d gotten an offer from Maitland Enterprises to buy it sight unseen, but I couldn’t quite get Sharkey’s voice out of my head. More like a belligerent growl, but I could be misremembering. It had been ten years since I’d worked here.

  And he’d always been sweet to me. Always given me a safe spot to hide from my family. Not because I didn’t love them. That was never my problem, quite the opposite really. Nope, Richard “Sharkey” Thompson had given me space to be just Erica.

  My first adult job that hadn’t been babysitting.

  The first time I’d made actual money myself.

  And that was why I would be handling the sale of the bar on my own. I owed him that much at least.

  I stepped up to the door and punched in the code the lawyer had given me for the realtor lock.

  The heel of my shoe wobbled, then cracked through the wooden board before I could step away. I landed hard on my ass. “No. No, please, no.” I turned my ankle to see the damage. Luckily, there was none to my actual ankle.

  I rolled onto my knees and gently picked up my shoe—half of my shoe, that is. The other half was wedged into the splintered wood. All five inches of the stiletto heel I’d bought with my first bonus.

  My favorite shoes.

  My perfect red Jimmy Choos that actually made me look like I had nice long legs. I was well aware I did not, but a woman needed a little smoke and mirrors sometimes.

  I twisted the heel and wanted to weep as the satin was scraped with each turn, but it wouldn’t budge. “Shit.”

  “I’ve been told there’s a perfectly serviceable bathroom inside. At least I hope so. I don’t want to have to shut you down. It’s my favorite place to have a beer.”

  The wind chose right then to whip through and my hair flew forward to dance around my face. I knew that voice. I landed on my hip and heard a tear.

  Seriously? Could this day get any better?

  The squeak of the boards behind me had me flipping my hair out of my eyes. “No, wait the boards are—”

  Too late.

  His large booted feet killed the rest of the board. However, he was far more agile. Instead of crashing through, he simply plucked me up and hopped back down onto the much safer pavement.

  I yelped and grabbed onto his shoulders, my hair still curtaining my face.

  He had very nice shoulders.

  Dios. Get a grip.

  Where was my usual city stranger danger panic?

  I finally got my hair back out of my eyes and stared up at a familiar pair of hazel eyes.

  “Well, well. If it’s isn’t little Erica Ramos.” He glanced down at the red silky cami that peeked from my very proper business suit. Well, it had been until the porch of the bar attacked me. “My, how you’ve grown.”

  “Jacob?”

  “It’s been a long time, Freckles.”

  Instinctively, I brushed my finger over my nose. I knew for a fact there were no freckles showing. I was careful to cover them up so people took me seriously at the office. I lifted my chin. “Would you please put me down?”

  He nodded to my bare foot. “Sure about that? When did you get your last tetanus?”

  I lifted my foot to point my bare red-tipped toes. I hadn’t bothered with stockings or hose since spring was in full
bloom. “Fair point. What are you doing here?” And why could he carry me so easily? I might’ve been petite height-wise, but I had the Ramos hips and butt.

  His huge hand gripped my thigh while his other firmly spanned my middle, a little too close to the side of my breast. Thank God for the lapels of my suit coat since my breasts hadn’t gotten the memo that while I might not be in stranger danger territory, I was definitely not supposed to have tingly nipple thoughts about this man.

  “Saving your very shapely ass evidently.”

  “I had it handled.”

  A dimple dented his bearded cheek, and a slash of white teeth flashed. “Of course you did, Freckles.”

  My damn nipples went on high alert again. God, he smelled good. Like the post-football game bonfires we used to have in high school with the new addition of sandalwood instead of the typical Calvin Klein scent all the guys used to wear. This scent was far more distracting. “Stop calling me that.”

  “You used to like when I called you that.”

  I did. Far more than was wise. And that was a major reason Jacob Mills was part of my past. One that I had very carefully left behind.

  Oh, and he was also my ex-husband’s best friend. Couldn’t forget that part.

  Two

  Walking up to the fire station’s favorite bar had never come with such a delectable distraction before. Then again, most of us knew to step around that soft board unlike the handful of feminine perfection I was holding. In fact, most of the guys from the station had been making a schedule to come over and help old Sharkey with the place. If there was one thing a fireman knew how to do, it was to mop floors and drink beer.

  But then the old man had gotten sick, and things fell even more by the wayside.

  We’d all come to celebrate his life last week then found a closed sign waiting for us the next day. Sharkey didn’t have any family to leave the bar to. Actually, I’d expected it to go into escrow and get snapped up by the developer who was buying up every available building in town.

  What I hadn’t expected was Erica Ramos.

  Her little chin lifted as her dark eyes blazed at me. “Well, are you going to bring me back to my car or inside?”

  I laughed. “What are you doing here, Fr—” I cleared my throat at the daggers headed my way. “What are you doing here?”

  “Evidently, I now own this place.”

  My hold firmed. “Sorry?”

  “Yeah, surprised me too. I haven’t talked to him since the summer after high school. I have no idea why he left it to me.”

  “Because he didn’t have anyone else.”

  Her eyebrows lowered. “Surely he had someone more important than me.”

  “He always loved you, Freckles.” I shrugged when she growled at me. “Can’t help it.”

  “Try.”

  “Do you really want me to?”

  She sighed and shook her thick hair back. “You used to be sweeter.”

  “Shit changes in ten years.”

  She clutched my uniform shirt, and her frown intensified. “Evidently.” That saucy little eyebrow hadn’t though. It still said a million things without her saying a damn word.

  “Guess we’re going inside. I’m the fire code chief for this county. I thought I was here to meet with the lawyer to make sure everything was up to code for the sale of the bar.”

  “Good. Then we can make this quick. Because I intend on selling as soon as possible.”

  If she had punched me in the chest, it would have been kinder. I instinctively held her closer to my chest. Her lips parted, and I was very glad I had my sunglasses on because I couldn’t stop staring her mouth.

  Shifting my grip to hold her more securely in my arms, I headed up the steps. “Obviously, the porch steps are not on my checklist.”

  “Shocker.”

  I set her down inside the door. My palms itched to get my hands back on her, but I took a step back. “Do you have a spare set of stilts in the car? Or maybe something a little more suitable?”

  “I can…” She sighed at my look. “Right.” She twisted a small bag forward. The slim strap cut between her breasts and pulled her suit lapels open again. That red lacy thing she was wearing was going to kill me.

  She held up a key fob. “Trunk.”

  “And what would her majesty like for me to bring back to her?”

  She narrowed her gaze. “You used to be less sarcastic.”

  “I used to be a nice guy.” Until life had taught me that being too accommodating never worked out.

  “I have a pair of black flats in a side pocket of the trunk.”

  “Got it.” Before I said something even more stupid, I turned on my heel and escaped. The brisk spring air helped to clear my head. It was better than her spicy floral scent making me want things I shouldn’t.

  I crossed the disaster zone of a parking lot and popped her trunk to find a very orderly set-up. An emergency roadside kit, a compact black suitcase with a red stripe around the zipper, and sure enough, there was a small fabric bag tucked along the side.

  Bingo. I shoved the little bag into my jacket pocket, then closed the trunk and pressed my palms against the car’s steel frame.

  Fuck, I’d missed her. All it took was ten minutes in her space to bring it all back.

  Oh, I’d had moments over the years. When the moon was high over the lake and I took my bike out for a long night drive, I thought about her sometimes. The stolen moments when she fought with Danny and sent out a text SOS to pick her up.

  Mostly because she was insane. She would jump out of his car at a stoplight or stop sign when they were mid-fight and stomp off. And Danny was always dickish enough to leave her.

  Idiot.

  And I’d ride in like the white knight I wished I could be for her. Having her wrap her curvy little self around me had been a special kind of torture. But I’d lived for those rides. I’d hoped she would see how wrong Danny was for her. Even if she never saw me as any more than the sweet guy she could lean on when she was in trouble.

  That boy was long gone, and I’d sure as shit never had sweet thoughts about her. No, they were decidedly X-rated. No matter whom I’d dated in high school, they were a poor substitute for Freckles. Not that she ever knew that. Because best friends never poached, and I’d been Danny Hughes’ best friend since kindergarten.

  He was still an idiot.

  And I was still in love with Erica.

  “Son of a bitch.”

  Three

  I flipped off my other shoe. The floor was a little dusty, but surprisingly clean overall. I’d figured the inside would match the outside. The tables and chairs were worn, but still serviceable with a bit of elbow grease and maybe some polish. An ancient tarp covered the taps, secured by bungee cord. The bar itself was shrouded in a large piece of paint-stained canvas.

  I frowned at the thick gray smoke coming from the kitchen. What the hell? I rushed around the bar and through the swinging door. The heavy scent of cigarette smoke slammed into deja vu.

  “Rita!”

  The crabby waitress with the improbable crayon-red hair who had been attached to this place since before I was born was sitting next to the back door cracked open to let in air. Of course it never helped, but Rita did what she wanted.

  Why Sharkey put up with her, I never knew.

  But her ass had been Velcroed to that chair every day I’d worked there. I guess it didn’t much matter if the bar was closed or not.

  She took a long drag and blew a stream of smoke at me. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

  Still sweet as ever too.

  I snatched the cigarette out of her hand and stubbed it out into the pail of sand she used to prop open the door. “You can’t smoke in here.”

  She calmly took out her leather cigarette pack holder. The leather was cracked and held together by safety pins. I was pretty sure it was older than my mother. She plucked another one from the Newport 100s pack with the tips of her long red nails. “What are you doing ba
ck here, kid?”

  I grabbed her lighter. “We are in the middle of getting reviewed by the fire code chief,” I whispered furiously. “You cannot smoke in here. What are you doing here?”

  She shrugged. “Working.” She pulled a pack of matches out of a different pocket and lit up.

  I looked over my shoulder. This was not happening to me. I straightened my spine and gentled my voice. Maybe she was so deep in mourning for Sharkey she didn’t know she currently didn’t have employment. “Rita, the bar is closed.”

  “I know that, you twit. I’m not stupid.” She blew a stream of smoke toward the door this time. How kind of her. “I’m here to meet with the new owner of this place.”

  “Well that’s me.”

  She shot out of the chair. “The hell it is.” She dropped her cigarette and stomped it out with her thick-soled black shoes.

  I covered my face with my hands. “Dios mio.”

  “Erica?”

  “You’re going to get us into trouble.” I rushed to the back door, propped it open, and waved my hand against the smoke, but it was no use.

  “Still such a good girl. Always following the rules.” Rita grabbed her purse and breezed by me to the back parking lot.

  Jacob filled the doorway. His impressive shoulders barely fit through the door. I didn’t remember him being so…beefy when we were kids. He’d always been tall, if a little bit on the beanpole end. Between basketball and football, he’d been the sweet-natured jock who was friends with everyone and yet truly close to no one.