Lib Novel Page 26
“Are you? Happy?”
“Yes.” She smiled and touched his cheek. “I am. All my life I wanted a home, a family, something solid and settled. I didn’t even know it until Keenan. He changed my life.”
“No urge to go back and smile for the camera?”
“Oh, no. Not even a twinge.”
He cupped a hand behind her neck, studying her. “It’s such a face,” he murmured. Right now he liked the idea of having it all to himself.
Chapter 8
The concept of car pools obviously had been devised by someone with a foul and vicious sense of humor. Having lived most of his life in cities where public transportation or a quick jog would get a man from his home to his office, Coop had never experienced the adult version.
But he’d heard rumors.
Arguments, petty feuds, crowded conditions, spilled coffee.
After a week as designated driver, Coop had no doubt the kiddie version was worse. Infinitely worse.
“He’s pinching me again, Mr. McKinnon. Brad’s pinching me.”
“Cut it out, Brad.”
“Carly’s looking at me. I told her to stop looking at me.”
“Carly, don’t look at Brad.”
“I’m going to be sick. Mr. McKinnon, I’m going to be sick right now.”
“No, you’re not.”
Though Matthew Finney made gagging noises that had the other kids screeching, Coop gritted his teeth and kept driving. Matt threatened to be sick twice a day unless he rode in the front seat. After five miserable days Coop had his number. But that did very little to soothe his nerves.
Keenan, who had waited all week for his turn in the front, swiveled in his seat to make monster faces at Matt. This incited a small riot of elbow jabs, howls, screaming giggles and shoves.
“Keenan, turn around!” Coop snapped. “You guys straighten up back there. Cut it out! If I have to stop this car…” He trailed off, shuddered. He’d sounded like his own mother. Now Coop was afraidhewould be sick. “Okay, first stop. Matt, scram.”
Fifteen minutes later, his backseat thankfully empty, Coop pulled into the drive and rested his throbbing head on the steering wheel. “I need a drink.”
“We got lemonade,” Keenan told him.
“Great.” He reached over to unbuckle Keenan’s seat belt. All he needed was a pint of vodka to go with it.
“Can we go swimming again soon?”
The idea of taking a herd of screaming kids back to the community pool anytime within the next century had a stone lodging in Coop’s heart. “Ask your mother.”
Coop started to look in the backseat and realized he couldn’t face it. Earlier in the week he’d made that mistake, and discovered wads of chewing gum on the rug, cookie crumbs everywhere and a mysterious green substance smeared on the seat.
In his weakened state, even a candy wrapper was likely to tip the balance.
“Yoo-hoo!” Mrs. Finkleman stripped off her flowered garden gloves and headed across the lawn in a flowing tent dress and electric-blue sandals. “How was your swim, little man?”
“We had races, and Brad dunked Carly and made her cry even though Coop told him not to, and I can hold my breath under water for twelve seconds.”
“My goodness.” She laughed and ruffled Keenan’s hair. “You’ll be in the Olympics next.” Her shrewd eyes took in Coop’s haggard face. “You look a little frazzled, Coop. Keenan, why don’t you run in and tell Mr. Finkleman you want a piece of that cherry cobbler he baked today?”
“Okay!” He tugged on Coop’s hand. “Do you want some? Do you wanna come?”