Page 6 of Summer Love

“I’m sure he did. Go on into the laundry room and get out of those wet clothes.”

“Okay.” He jumped from the stool, splashing more water before he zoomed away. He stopped only long enough to give his mother a wet kiss before he disappeared into an adjoining room.

“Sorry I’m late,” Zoe said easily, yanking the stopper out of the sink then walking to a cupboard to get a vase.

Coop opened his mouth. He started to explain what had gone on in the past ten minutes, but realized he wasn’t at all sure. “I signed the lease.”

“I see that. Would you mind putting some water in this?” She held out the vase. “I need to get a mop.”

“Sure.”

She was probably going to wallop the kid with it, Coop thought, and felt a quick tug of regret and guilt. But the sounds from the laundry room where she’d disappeared weren’t those he associated with corporal punishment. They were a young boy’s giggles, a woman’s lusty laugh. Coop stood, a vase of water in his hands, and wondered at it.

“You’re standing in a puddle,” Zoe commented when she came back with a mop and pail.

“Oh, right.” Coop glanced down at his wet high-tops, shifted. “Here’s your vase.”

“Thanks.” She tended to her flowers first. “You met Mrs. Finkleman, I hear.”

“News travels fast.”

“Around here it does.” When she handed him a dishcloth to dry his face with, he caught her scent—much more potent, much more colorful, than the flowers. She was wearing jeans and a baggy T-shirt with Floral Bouquet across the chest. Her hair, he noted, was some elusive shade between brown and blond. She wore it tied back in a jaunty ponytail.

When she lifted her brows, he realized he’d been staring. “Sorry. I mean—I’m sorry about the mess.”

“Were you playing dishwasher, too?”

“Not exactly.” It was impossible not to smile back, to ignore the quick pull of attraction.

It wouldn’t be so bad, he mused, having a pretty landlady, sharing the house with her, maybe an occasional meal. Or an occasional—

“Mama!” Keenan stood in the doorway, wearing nothing but skin. “I can’t find my pants.”

“In the basket by the washing machine,” she told him, without taking her eyes from Coop’s.

He’d forgotten about the kid; let himself fantasize a little before remembering she didn’t come as a single. He took a long mental step backward and jingled the keys to his new apartment.

“I’ve got some boxes out in the car,” he told her. “I’m going to move some things in this afternoon.”

“That’s fine.” It was silly to feel disappointed, Zoe thought. Foolish to have felt that fast feminine flutter when she recognized interest in his eyes. More foolish to feel let down because the interest had blanked out when her child called her. “Do you need any help?”

“No, I can handle it. I’ve got a game to cover tonight, so I’m going to move the rest in tomorrow.” He backed toward the door. “Thanks.”

“Welcome aboard, Mr. McKinnon.”

“Coop,” he said as he stepped outside. “It’s Coop.”

Coop, she thought, leaning on the mop handle. It had seemed like such a good idea to make use of the apartment upstairs. The extra income would take some of the pressure off, and maybe add a few bonuses. Like that trip to Disney World that Keenan wanted so badly.

It had been a risk to buy the house, but she’d wanted her son to grow up in a nice neighborhood, with a yard, maybe a dog when he was a little older. The rental income would take away some of the risk.

But she hadn’t realized it could add another, more personal risk. She hadn’t realized how awkward it might be to have a tenant who was male, single and absolutely gorgeous.

She laughed at herself. Dream on, Zoe, she thought. J. Cooper McKinnon was just like the rest, who ran like a hound when they heard the patter of little feet.

Something crashed in the laundry room. She just shook her head.

“Come on, sailor,” she called to Keenan. “It’s time to swab the deck.”

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