Page 11 of Rockstar Baby

“You make ice cream? How…quaint.”

I narrowed my gaze at him. “How rude.”

He laughed and sat back to cross his arms. “You got me. Sorry. I’m not from around here.”

“Obviously.”

“What? I don’t fit in with the sweet Americana flavor of…where am I again?” He lifted his water glass to his mouth. “Crescent Cove, is it?”

“Yes, baby capital of the world.”

He choked on his sip.

I laughed. “Sorry, that was mean.”

“Yes, it was.”

I picked out another fry that was loaded down with cheese and bacon. “It’s not a real moniker for the town, though it might as well be. We’re currently going through a bit of a baby boom. Macy blames it on the water.”

He quickly put his glass down and shoved it away. “Is that right?”

I managed not to give him a cheeky grin. “So much so that she makes the most delicious shakes and drinks to avoid drinking it. But I think she’s just a touch superstitious. Halloween is her favorite holiday after all.”

He shook his head. “This town is odd.”

“No doubt about that, but it’s home and I love it.” I really did. So many people from my class had moved away after college. They’d been dying to get out of this town. Me? I kept finding reasons to stay. Working at the diner didn’t exactly give me a huge savings account, but living with my brother meant I didn’t have a whole lot of expenses. Now and then, I picked up shifts at The Spinning Wheel and The Cove to pad my pockets. I was cute enough to get tips at least.

“So, are you going to give me a name?”

He looked up from his mostly empty plate. “Are you?”

The juke went silent, then the needle hissed before the quiet was filled by The Rolling Stones.

We broke eye contact and I laughed as “Paint it Black” filled the space between us. Another song with so much meaning. This time, it was the juke speaking to us since he’d only had two quarters.

I looked down. Since I wasn’t wearing my usual navy shirt, there was definitely no name tag. “Sorry, I’m usually in uniform.” I licked cheese off the tips of my fingers and debated holding my hand out. I wasn’t quite sure I was ready to touch him just yet. “Ivy Beck.”

“Rory Ferguson.”

Yeah, good thing I didn’t go for that handshake. That purring Irish lilt sounded way hotter than it should have. Who even named their kid Rory?

His mom.

His dad.

And they were smart. Because it was different enough to make me take notice. Unfortunately, it also meant I wouldn’t forget it. Annoying. Then again, if the night went where I thought it was going, I wouldn’t forget him anyway.

I was discerning about who I got naked with. In a town where everyone always knew your business, it was just good practice, but I also didn’t often have the urge to do crazy things.

At least not anymore.

My one year in college had been filled with spectacular mistakes, but once I’d gotten that out of my system, men had seemed like way more trouble than they were worth.

Until now anyway.

Annoying. Did I mention that?

“You see the palace in which I work.” I did a grand gesture with my arm. “What brings you in here on a dark and stormy night?”