Daddy on Duty (Crescent Cove Book 12)
DADDY ON DUTY
CRESCENT COVE BOOK 12
TARYN QUINN
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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 on Duty
© 2022 Taryn Quinn
Rainbow Rage Publishing
Cover by LateNite Designs
Photograph by Lindee Robinson Photography
Models: Sam & Kyle Suib
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: April 2022
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DADDY ON DUTY
I’ll do anything for the cookie…
I’m used to playing the field. But specialty baker Tabitha wrapped me up in her the first time I tasted her…frosting.
Suddenly I’m offering my services in any way I can.
• Need help babysitting your new puppy? Check.
• Bakery invaded by a rogue duck? Check.
• Missed dinner and want takeout? Check.
Except that late at night after I’m done with patrol, we fall into bed.
And onto the kitchen counter.
And into the shower.
Spoiler: I didn’t need help finding the soap.
Turns out that whole protect-and-serve thing apparently doesn’t extend to birth control. But I thought we were covered.
Whoops.
But if I can convince her I’m ready to be a one-woman man, our spontaneous hookup might just lead to forever.
Author Note: Hot cop Brady McNeill is a deputy, but his nightstick isn’t just for show. Ooh, baby. Daddy on Duty is a standalone accidental pregnancy romantic comedy with a happily-ever-after ending and no cliffhanger.
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
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Epilogue
His Temporary Assistant
Crescent Cove World
Crescent Cove
More by Taryn Quinn
Quinn and Elliott
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About Taryn Quinn
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
When the world doesn’t make sense and things are hard, we turn to our friends and family to get us through. We couldn’t have gotten this book completed without our amazing crew, our friends who keep us sane, and our ever supportive Word Wenches Reader Group.
Thank you.
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.
To the workaholic people pleasers who work themselves into the ground to make people happy. We have been you, and are currently in a never ending recovery program. Welcome, you are our people. LOL!
ONE
Valentine’s Day was a pisser under the best of circumstances. And my skill at viewing situations as “the glass half full” depended how crappy my day on patrol had gone.
Today wasn’t looking awesome, which meant neither was my outlook on the big love shindig.
If you were single, you searched around for a date and then hoped they didn’t have excessive expectations. Though the high-quality pickings weren’t usually plentiful by then, since a lot of people were so desperate to be coupled up, no matter how dubiously, that they snagged whomever was still available in early February.
If you were seeing someone, then you had to evaluate what level the relationship was at. And God forbid if you realized you were at different levels.
Oh, the horrors.
Then there was always the horniness factor to consider. I was better than a teenage male in the sense I didn’t let my pointer dog lead me up all the wrong trees—usually—but I enjoyed sex to a level that had caused unnecessary drama in my youth.
As in before my last birthday. I’d matured since then.
But Valentine’s Day fucked with even the most responsible among us. Especially when you were on patrol with your commanding officer who happened to be the sheriff in our small, sweet, heavily coupled up and baby-infested small town. And he was about to split because he was heading home to get some from his Salma-Hayek’s-younger-sister-lookalike fiancée.
Bitter? Who me? I was the moron who’d decided to embrace the single life several months ago after the last chick I’d considered dating had decided casual meant fifty-five texts per day.
Sixty-five on weekends.
But man, why had I drawn a line in the sand before the holiday that literally celebrated sex?
“I don’t foresee you having any issues tonight other than the snow. Christian’s headed in with the new recruit and he’s well versed in dealing with crowd control for the Fest. But this snow is making things tricky.”
“This?” I snorted and gestured out the windshield. A family hurried across the street at the crosswalk, ducking their heads against the slashing white flakes as they tugged along their small child. “This is a day in the park.”
Jared slanted me a sidelong glance. “Don’t discount it. You’ve been away for half a dozen years and aren’t familiar with recent Cove winters.”
“Yeah, but I lived here for over twenty-five years. I think I know central New York winters, Jared. I mean, sir.”
It was Jared’s turn to snort. “Respect is a rough pill to swallow.”
“Not when I have a special Macy’s blend in my cup.” I grinned and lifted my to-go cup of heavily lightened and sweetened coffee. My little secret since Christian made no bones of the fact he took his black and probably added Pennzoil to the brew to prove the size of his balls.
We were patrolling in twos tonight on account of the Valentine’s spectacle—I mean, wholesome holiday event—taking place on Main Street in the Cove. Crowd control wasn’t much of a thing for us, especially in the middle of winter, but big annual events like this drew out the townsfolk and tourists alike.
Especially this particular one, because the day of romance had become a week of romance, plus all the attendant festivities. Romance meant getting out to shop and eat broiled meat on sticks and buying candy for your beloved so she’d have sex with you later. Even if, statistically, you were more of a morning wood sort of guy.
I was only a little cynical.
“Rub it in. Besides, I do too. Though I had to cut back and now my special blend is more the green tea matcha variety.” He winced and tapped the lid of his own takeout cup. “The terrible twos are killing us right now. Sami’s cutting saber teeth instead of the standard baby variety.”
I laughed and patted him sympathetically on the shoulder. “Wise move you decided to hire on that part-timer.”
Jared’s lips twitched. “Wiser than you can even imagine.”
I didn’t know what that meant, but Jared always thought he was a comedian. “Any line on the other one you wanted to hire?”
“Still interviewing potential candidates. We have another few interviews scheduled for this week and next. One coming in from Turnbull, one a recent city transplant.” Jared growled and picked up his megaphone. “Camden Connolly, get that skateboard off the road in this weather!” He shook his head as his blasting voice nearly blew Camden right off the board. “Damn kid’s going to kill himself with that thing when it’s this icy out. I swear, I’m not ready for teenagers.”
I chuckled. “Think you have a while yet.”
“True. Thank God. But I still won’t be ready.”
“Maybe you should go back to the coffee beforehand? Help settle your nerves some.”
Jared sent me a sly grin. “Oh, I have other ways to soothe myself, don’t worry.”
I officially hated the sheriff with a fiery passion.
“No one likes a braggart.”
“Who’s bragging?”
“You are. And are you going to hurry up and get married already so you’re in misery and having no sex like the rest of us?”
He laughed. “Son, that will never happen, although gotta say, I never expected such woe in that department from you. Didn’t you used to have a handful of girlfriends at a time?”
“Not a handful. Just casual dating isn’t so casual anymore when you’re past thirty. Never mind living in a town where every single woman has an egg timer in sync with the sale season at the baby shops on Main Street.” I shuddered as the sheriff signaled onto a side street and weaved around a cluster of tourists admiring the endl
ess heart decorations and ignoring traffic.
Admittedly, I wasn’t much for babies, but in recent months I’d discovered kids weren’t so bad. My little sister had hooked me up with a volunteer opportunity at the learning center and now I played basketball a few times a week with little kids, along with helping with some light tutoring here and there. I could handle reading and homework assistance. But these kids were way beyond diapers, unlike the sheriff’s kid. I shuddered again.
Jared heaved out a breath. “Snow’s starting to make a mess. Maybe I should tell Bee we’ll have a later dinner. She’s always my busy bee, she’s used to juggling. A delayed meal is nothing.”
“You can’t put off Gina. She’ll skin you alive.”
“Nah, it won’t be that much longer. I can spend a few more hours on patrol with you, get through the worst of the Valentine rush while the snow’s snarling the roads.”
“Sheriff, I’m fine. You honestly think I can’t handle this? Do you remember I used to—”
“Work for the FBI. Yes, I remember. But tonight’s a busy night, and this ice and snow isn’t helping.”
“No, but Christian’s on patrol too with the new dude. I can always call for backup if I need some help with crowd control or an errant duck.”
The errant duck wasn’t an idle concern. This wasn’t their usual time of year to be around, but our ducks were especially hardy and attached to this area. I wouldn’t put it past them to steal a fried brisket out of some unsuspecting toddler’s mouth.
They’d done odder things.
Not that I would need Christian’s assistance to handle a rogue swarm of ducks, but if it made the sheriff feel better that I had help, good enough.
“Listen, Bee is making her famous chicken and biscuits on Sunday. She decided it’s time we start our own Sunday dinner tradition. You should come over. Bring…a friend.”
Did I seem that pathetic? That lacking in feminine company that my boss felt the need to set up a situation where I could invite someone over for home-cooking? And his fiancée Gina—the Bee nickname was solely Jared’s for her and probably referred to some weird sex thing I didn’t need to know—was one hell of a cook since she worked at the diner, so that would be a pretty thick carrot to tempt someone with.
“Hmm, we’ll see. Or maybe she could make me a plate to take home?”
“You’re a dyed in the wool bachelor.”
I shrugged. “Third wheel isn’t my color.”
“So, find someone to bring. Bee worries about you.”
“Sure she does. Not you though.” I shook my head with a smile as Jared swung over to the curb behind my parked cruiser, his police radio going off with reports of a power outage in town. Before he could insist he would put off going off duty, I pointed at him. “Go. You’re off the clock. You trust your men, don’t you?”
Jared’s jaw locked. “Low blow, McNeill. Yes, I do. And I’m going.”
“Glad to hear it. Have a good night.”
He started to issue orders and I shut the door, pointing at the tree beside us listing in the wind with a helpless gesture. Not my fault the gust slammed it shut. He shook his head at me and pulled away as I climbed into my own car and indicated I was available to dispatch.
“McNeill, power on Main Street and in the surrounding area is out. Power company’s ETA is thirty minutes. They suspect a weather-related cause.”
“What was their first clue?” I frowned at our dispatcher Bonnie, who just happened to be Gina’s mom. She also couldn’t see me frowning through the radio. Good thing too. My general Valentine’s malcontent was getting harder to stifle by the moment.
She ignored me. I supposed when a woman birthed five children she learned to tune out a lot. She also was very particular about doing things her own way. She used standard police codes when she wanted to and skipped them when she did not. Since Crescent Cove wasn’t exactly a big city, things were often more informal here than they would’ve been in a more urban area.
Only partially due to the high rate of duck nuisance calls.
“Two minutes ago, a distress call came in from Sugar Rush, the bakery on the corner of Elm and Main.”
Immediately, the long, wavy reddish-blond hair and guileless smile of Sugar Rush’s owner Tabitha swam into my mind. And possibly her incredible rack and equally stunning hips. She was curvy in all the right places.
So I’d noticed. Sue me.
I’d been into the bakery a few times picking up donuts for the station and discovered Tabitha made treats for dogs too. Better yet, she catered to a wide range of dog allergies. Apparently, her mom had a dog allergic to wheat flour, which was beneficial for me since my Daisy was allergic to half the foods in existence.
Possibly three-fourths.
Tabitha hadn’t said much to me the first few times I’d visited the shop but she’d smiled a lot. After the last time, I’d found a white bag outside my apartment filled with blueberry banana dog cookies—and my dog had nearly mowed me down to get at them. I hated how limited Daisy’s food options were and really appreciated Tabitha’s sideline business, but when I’d tried to thank her, she’d waved me off and practically shut her apartment door in my face.
Because, oh yeah, we were also neighbors.
Other than chatting at the first rooftop party I’d gone to last summer, saying hi as we passed in the hall was as good as it got. She rarely even made eye contact with me.
But man, her donuts were a wonder. And her eyes were insanely blue. And I was really fond of watching her walk back into her apartment since her rear view was just as stunning as the front.
Might as well make the best of her reluctance to talk to me for more than a moment or two, right?
“What was the call, Bonnie?” I was already signaling into traffic to do a U-turn. Sugar Rush was just a few blocks away in the opposite direction.
“Multiple calls, actually. One about the power outage. And…”
“And?” I prompted.
“She requested someone to help take care of a puppy.”
“Help take care of a puppy? Does she think that’s the job of the police?”
“She found the puppy in the trash. It’s very young and she requested veterinary assistance.”
My known weakness toward dogs made me roll my shoulders. I would not be suckered by a wet nose and a pair of doe eyes—neither the pup’s nor Tabitha’s. I was in a vulnerable sexless state tonight and had to shore up my boundaries. “From the police?”
“Brady, she’s flustered and she’s never dealt with babies before. I suspect not human or canine. Give the girl a break. Eat one of her cookies and chill out.”
I narrowed my eyes. Bonnie was using that tone I recognized as a motherly matchmaking voice. My own mother’s career in law enforcement had given her a different occupation when it came to her two sons and her daughter—mainly to encourage us to choose any career but law enforcement—but I was sure she could rouse that particular tone if needed.
Besides, I had enough trouble picking my own dates. How could someone else do any better?
“Chill out in the dark with her and cookies and a crying dog? Sounds relaxing.”
“The power won’t be out long. As for the dog, I don’t know what to tell you. Tabitha said the two emergency vet clinics near town are full to the seams right now.”