Love, Diamonds, and Spades (Cactus Creek #2)(7)

An epidemic at the shop, it seemed.

Since first seeing Rylan at Ocotillos a few weeks ago, Quinn had been having her fair share of distracted moments as well, all starring a certain too-hot-for-his-own-good musician.

Worst of all, she was pretty sure he knew it too.

It would certainly explain why he was still standing there despite her trying to ice him out for a good minute now. Probably amusing himself by torturing her. Bastard. Irked enough to finally steal a glance back at him—skewer-sharp glare in the chamber at the ready—she was horrified to find him peering around her instead.

At the little blond preschooler clutching her hand.

“Hey buddy,” he said in the perfect tone of voice that would pass a five-year-old’s bullshit meter with flying colors.

That threw Quinn way off.

She pulled her son closer. “He’s mine. My kid, that is.”

“Yeah, I figured he wasn’t a rental,” replied Rylan dryly.

With an arctic glower, she added archly, “Yes, well, I wouldn’t normally bring him to work but I don’t have a regular evening sitter; never needed one with my glamorous night life and all.”

Studying her thoughtfully, Rylan leaned in to ask quietly, “Does that tactic work well?”

Confused, she swung a cautious gaze at him. “What tactic?”

“I’m sure you’re aware,” he said, his voice pitched low so her son couldn’t hear, “the big eff-off sign you have across your forehead already has neon letters and flashing lights. You really don’t have to use your single mom status to scare off the guys who are interested in you.”

Her mouth fell open in utter astonishment.

He leaned in even more, his lips now almost at her ear. “Luckily, I don’t scare easy. And sugar, you bet I’m interested.”

Now, she was officially tongue-tied.

Of course, the aggravating man had to shock her even further by then kneeling down in front of her son to introduce himself properly. “Hi, I’m Rylan.” He stuck out his hand palm up for a low-five. “What’s your name, big guy?”

“Cooper,” answered the young boy, giggling delightedly as his hand tried over and over to slap Rylan’s now playfully evasive hand.

“Cool name. Played with a guitar guy with the same name once.” Rylan laughed heartily when Cooper finally managed to smack his open palm. “Aw, you got me! Rematch!”

Still thunderstruck silent, Quinn just stared at the now cackling duo.

“So Coop, I saw you bopping around to our music. You’ve got good taste. Since your mom is busy working, why don’t you ask her if you can check out our instruments on stage?”

“COOL!” Cooper turned his pleading blue eyes to Quinn. “Can I, mommy? Please?”

She shook off her confounded stupor and managed to nod. “Sure, munchkin. Go have fun. Don’t break anything.” A Texas-sized lump formed in her throat when she saw the rest of the band welcome her son with warm hellos and knuckle-bumps. He was given a new band cap to wear and a pair of drumsticks to bang out some beats.

His squeals of delight filled the air.

Emotions all amuck now, Quinn spent the next ten minutes watching Cooper have a blast with Rylan and the band. Seeing the handsome singer really truly hang out with her son put a titanic crack in the ice blockade she had around her heart. The few men she’d dated in the past had just patted Cooper on the head and asked none too rudely when his bedtime was. Sadder still, they were all princes compared to the jackass noted as Coop’s father on his birth certificate.

But Rylan... He was genuinely enjoying spending time with her son, laughing and teaching him how to strum a guitar while wailing into the muted mic.

It was amazing. In an alternate universe sort of way.

Maybe that’s what allowed the uncharacteristic chortle to escape her when she heard the guys ask Cooper what his favorite song was. The answer, as she knew it would be, was the song from a Disney show he watched religiously.

Quinn’s humor quickly turned to complete shock, however, when the guys nodded and began strumming out the cotton candy pop tune she’d heard far too many times over months of DVR replays. The two older members of the group, the ones wearing wedding rings, each gave Cooper a crinkly-eyed smile before starting to hum a raspy, masculine rendition of the harmony just as Rylan started singing a rocked-out version of the lyrics.

The random folks hanging out on the rooftop deck immediately started murmuring their surprised approval and gathering around to listen.

Elated, Cooper began bouncing around and singing along as well.

When Rylan kneeled down to share his mic with Coop so they could wail out the lyrics in unison, Quinn felt irrational moisture springing to her eyes.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” she muttered, grabbing at a nearby chair, “not another musician.”





CHAPTER FOUR


QUINN LOOKED UP as she heard footsteps approaching her in the alley between Desert Confections and Ocotillos.

“Woman, why the hell are you out here alone?” growled Rylan. “Don’t you know how dangerous it is?”

She looked around at the mini parking lot that overlooked the sunny town square on one side and a senior center on the other. “Yes, clearly, I’m living on the edge,” she replied wryly, tossing the shop trash bags in the dumpster.