Summer Love: The Best Mistake / Impulse

“I’ll pass. You go ahead.”

Mrs. Finkleman chuckled as Keenan darted away and scrambled up the steps. “Little angel. We’ll keep him entertained for a couple of hours—or he’ll keep us entertained. You look like you could use a few minutes in a quiet room.”

“Padded room,” Coop muttered. “How does anyone survive kids?”

“It’s easier if you go through the stages with them. Once you’ve walked the floor all night with a colicky baby, nothing much fazes you.” She sighed. “Except science projects. Science projects always took me to the edge. And that first driving lesson.” She shook her head at the memory. “That can bring you to your knees.” She beamed and patted his arm. “But there’s years yet to worry about that. And you’ve been doing a fine job. Why, Harry and I were just saying how nice it is that Zoe and Keenan have a man in their lives. Not that Zoe hasn’t been handling everything herself. Raising that sweet-natured boy all alone and working two jobs and tending the house. But it does my heart good to see you and that little angel playing ball in the yard, and the way Zoe lights up when you’re around. You make a lovely little family. Now, you go and take a nice nap. We’ll keep an eye on your boy.”

“I’m not— He’s not—” But even as Coop stammered, she was drifting away.

Family? he thought as a ball of ice formed in his stomach. They weren’t a family. Oh, no, he promised himself as he walked around the house to his steps. He hadn’t taken that on.

He liked the kid, sure. What wasn’t to like? And he was damn near nuts about the mother. But that didn’t make them a family. That didn’t make things permanent. Maybe he’d volunteered to spend time with the kid, taught him a few things about ball, pitched him a few, but that didn’t make him Daddy.

He headed straight for the refrigerator, popped the top off a beer and took a long pull.

Sure, maybe he enjoyed having the kid around, and Lord knows he enjoyed being with Zoe. He’d even been sort of pleased when a woman at the pool mistook Keenan for his and commented on what a handsome son he had. But that didn’t mean he was going to start thinking about family health insurance or college funds.

He was single. He liked being single. It meant coming and going as he pleased, planning all-night poker games, spending all day with the sports channel blaring.

He liked working in his own space—that was why he did the bulk of his writing at home, rather than at the paper. He didn’t like people messing with his things or structuring his time or planning outings.

Family life—as he remembered from his childhood—was lousy with outings.

No way was he changing his nice comfortable existence to accommodate a family.

So he’d made a mistake, Coop decided, and stretched out on the couch with his beer. He’d given Zoe and the kid a little too much of his time, a little too much of his attention. It hadn’t been anything he didn’t want to give, but he could see now that the gesture could be misconstrued. Particularly since Zoe had once brought up theLword. Only once, he reminded himself, and he’d like to think that had just been a woman thing.

Still, if he didn’t back off, they might start to depend on him. He shifted uncomfortably as the idea flitted through his mind that he might also come to depend on them.

It was time to reestablish himself as the tenant upstairs.

***

Keenan raced out of the house next door the minute his mother pulled her car into the drive.

“Hi, Mama, hi! I held my breath for twelve seconds under water!”

Zoe caught him on the fly and swung him twice. “You must be hiding gills in there,” she said, tickling his ribs. “Hi, Mrs. Finkleman.”

“Hi yourself. We’ve had ourselves a fine hour. I sent Coop up for a nap when they got home. He looked like he’d had a rough day.”

“Thanks.” She kissed Keenan’s waiting lips, then smacked her own. “Mmm… Cherries.”

“Mr. Finkleman baked them, and they were good.”

“I bet. Did you say thank you?”

“Uh-huh. Matt almost throwed up in Coop’s car.”

“Threw up,” Zoe said as she carried Keenan inside.

“Uh-huh. ’Cause it was my turn to ride in the front. I had the best time, and Coop helped me to swim without my bubbles. He said I was a champ.”

“That’s just what you are.” She collapsed with him on a chair. The idea of fixing dinner, changing into her uniform and serving drinks for six hours loomed heavily. “Give me a hug,” she demanded, then soothed herself with some nuzzling. “Definitely a champion hugger. Why don’t you come in the kitchen and tell me what else you did today while I fix dinner?”

A half hour later, as Zoe was draining pasta and Keenan was entertaining himself with crayons and paper on the kitchen floor, she heard the sound of Coop’s feet on the stairs. Her heart sped up. The normal, healthy reaction made her smile. Imagine, she thought, believing herself immune to men.

She left the pasta draining in the sink and went to the back door just as he came to the foot of the steps.