Page 23 of Summer Love

“Oh, man.” Flummoxed, Coop dragged a hand through his hair. He was desperately relieved that no blood had been spilled, but if anyone, anyone, found out what he was about to do, he’d never live it down. He turned Keenan around and made a kissing noise in the air. “Does that do it?”

“Uh-huh.” Keenan knuckled his eyes, then held out his arms. “Will you pick me up?”

“Yeah.” He didn’t feel as ridiculous as he’d expected when the boy’s arms went around his neck. “Okay now?”

With his head resting on Coop’s shoulder, he nodded. “I didn’t mean to do it. I spilled all the juice.”

“No big deal.” Hardly realizing he did so, Coop turned his head to brush his lips over Keenan’s hair. Something was shifting inside him, creaking open.

“You aren’t mad at me? You won’t go away?”

“No.” What the hell was going on? Coop wondered as unexplored and unexpected emotions swirled inside him. “No, I’m not going anywhere.”

“I love you,” Keenan said, with the simple ease of a child.

Coop closed his eyes and wondered how a grown man was supposed to handle falling for a four-year-old boy.

***

Well, here she was, Zoe thought as she stood at the bottom of the steps leading to Coop’s apartment. All she had to do was go upstairs, open the door and start an affair. Her stomach clenched.

Silly to be nervous, she told herself, and climbed the first step. She was a normal woman with normal needs. If her emotions were too close to the surface, she would deal with it. It was much more difficult to be hurt when you had no expectations.

She’d had expectations once, but she knew better now.

This was simply a physical attraction between two single, healthy people. She’d nearly backed down a step before she forced herself to move forward. All the practical details had been seen to. Her son was safely tucked away for the night at his sleepover. She’d arranged for birth control—that wasn’t an oversight she would make again.

No regrets, she promised herself as she lifted a hand to knock. She knew how useless they were.

He answered so quickly, she nearly jumped. Then they stood and stared at each other.

She’d worn a dress, one of those thin, breezy sundresses designed to make a man give thanks for the end of winter. Her hair was loose, falling over thin raspberry-colored straps and bare, peach-toned shoulders. There were nerves in her eyes.

“Hi.” He glanced down to the cordless phone she held. “Expecting a call?”

“What? Oh.” She laughed, miserably self-conscious. “No, I just don’t like to be out of touch when Keenan’s not home.”

“He’s all settled at his pal’s?”

“Yeah.” She stepped inside, set the phone on the counter. “He was so excited, he—” She broke off when her sandal stuck to the floor.

Coop grimaced. “I guess I missed some of it. We had a spill.”

“Oh?”

“The kid took a tumble, sheared off ten years of my life. No blood lost, though. Just a half gallon of orange juice.” When she only smiled, he stepped to the refrigerator. Why in hell was he babbling? “Want some wine?”

“That would be nice.” Why, he’s as nervous as I am, she realized, and she loved him for it. “Keenan’s having a wonderful time staying with you. I have to study the sports pages now just to keep up with what he’s talking about.”

“He catches on fast.”

“So do I. Go ahead,” she said as he handed her a glass of wine, “ask me about stats. I know all about RBIs and ERAs.” She took a sip, then gestured with her glass. “I think the Orioles would have taken the second game of that doubleheader the other night if they’d put in a relief pitcher in the second inning.”

His lips twitched. “Do you?”

“Well, the starter had lost his stuff, obviously. The guy who was announcing—”

“The play-by-play man.”

---