Summer Love: The Best Mistake / Impulse

And from the library books he’d found stacked here and there, it seemed she spent most of her free time reading up on flowers, car repair, tax laws and time management.

He couldn’t help but think it was a waste of a perfectly stunning woman, this voluntary burial of self in books and nowhere part-time jobs.

But it wasn’t his problem.

The crash of thunder from outside harmonized nicely with the artillery barrage on the TV screen. Coop had just decided that this babysitting racket was a snap.

Then he heard the wailing.

Marines didn’t wail, he thought fuzzily, especially when they were battling Nazi scum. He yawned, circled his neck until it cracked, then spotted Keenan.

The boy stood at the base of the stairs in Batman pajamas, a battered stuffed dog clutched in one arm and tears pouring down his face.

“Mama!” His voice sharpened like an ice pick, then hitched. “Where’s my mama?”

“She’s at work.” Coop straightened on the sofa and stared helplessly. “Something wrong?”

A flash of lightning lit the room. By the time the thunder rolled in answer, Keenan screamed like a banshee and launched himself into Coop’s lap.

“I’m scared. There’s monsters outside. They’re coming to get me.”

“Hey…” Coop gave the head buried in his chest an inadequate pat. “Hey, it’s just a thunderstorm.”

“Monsters,” Keenan sobbed. “I want Mama.”

“Well, she’s—” He started to swear, caught himself. The poor kid was shaking. With an instinct he didn’t recognize, Coop cuddled Keenan in his lap. “You don’t like storms, huh?” All Keenan could do was shake his head and burrow deeper. “They’re just like fireworks. You know, on the Fourth of July, or after your team wins the pennant? They probably just had a big game up there. They’re celebrating.”

“Monsters,” Keenan repeated, but he’d calmed enough to lift his head and look at Coop. “Big black monsters with sharp teeth.” He jolted at the next clap of thunder. Fresh tears started to roll. “They want to eat me.”

“Nah.” Experimentally, Coop tested Keenan’s biceps. “You’re too tough.”

“I am?”

“You bet. Any monsters who looked in here would see you and run for their lives. They’d never take on Coop and the Keen-man.”

Keenan sniffled, rubbed a fist over his eyes. “Really?”

“Absolutely.” Coop saw Keenan’s lower lip tremble when thunder grumbled. “Home run,” he said, and Keenan’s trembling mouth curved in a hesitant smile.

“Can I stay out here with you?”

“Sure. I guess.”

Keenan, an expert in such matters, settled himself comfortably in Coop’s lap, laid his head against Coop’s heart and sighed.

***

Zoe was swaying with fatigue by the time she let herself in. It was nearly 3:00 a.m., and she’d been up and going for twenty hours straight. All she wanted was to fall facedown on her bed and sleep.

She saw them in the gray light of the snowy television screen. They were curled together on the couch, the boy snuggled deep against the man. Something shifted inside her at the sight of them, both sleeping deeply, Keenan’s tousled golden hair beneath Coop’s broad, tanned hand.

She set her purse and her keys aside without taking her eyes off them.

How small her son looked, and how safe.

She slipped out of her shoes and walked to them on stockinged feet. In a natural gesture, she brushed a hand over Coop’s hair before gently lifting her son. Keenan stirred, then settled against her.

“Mama.”