Summer Love: The Best Mistake / Impulse

Sitting on the back stoop, she struggled to understand the assembly instructions for the new barbecue grill she’d bought. She was going to surprise Keenan with hamburgers.

She liked the quiet—her kind of quiet, which meant there was music throbbing from the kitchen radio. She liked the loneliness—her kind of loneliness, which meant Keenan would dash toward her shortly with open arms and chattering voice.

She knew the upstairs apartment was empty, and she tried not to think about that. Tried not to think about the fact that Coop had been away more than he’d been home in the last few days.

Foolish of her to have thought he was different. He’d wanted her, he’d had her and now he’d lost interest. Well, she had wanted him, so they were even there. If her heart was suffering, it would pass. It had passed before. She and Keenan could get along fine on their own. Just like always.

Her screwdriver slipped, scraped her knuckles, and had her swearing.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Eyes hot, she looked up at Coop. “Baking a cake. What does it look like I’m doing?”

“You can’t put something together if you’re going to spread parts all over the damn place.” Automatically he bent down to organize. She rapped his hand away with the rubber grip of the screwdriver.

“I don’t need you to put things together for me. I’m not some poor helpless female who needs a man to pick up the slack. I managed just fine before you came along.”

Stung, he rammed his hands in his pockets. “Fine. Do it yourself.”

“I am doing it myself. I like doing it myself.”

“Terrific. And when the thing topples over, you won’t have anyone else to blame.”

“That’s right.” She blew her hair out of her eyes. “I accept when something’s my fault.” She picked up a wrench and locked a bolt in place. “Do you plan to hover over me all afternoon?”

“I want to talk to you.”

“So talk.”

He had it well planned. He was a writer, after all. “I realize the way I’ve been hanging around with you and the kid—”

“His name is Keenan,” Zoe said between her teeth.

“I know what his name is. The way I’ve been hanging around the last few weeks might give the wrong impression.”

“Oh, really?” She looked up again, tapping the wrench against her palm.

“He’s a great kid, he kind of grows on you. I’ve gotten a kick out of spending time with him.”

Though she hated herself for it, Zoe softened. She understood that he was genuinely fond of Keenan. That only made it all the more difficult. “He likes spending time with you. It’s been good for him.”

“Well, yeah, on the one hand. On the other, I started thinking that he—that you—that both of you might get the wrong idea. I mean, tossing a ball around or taking him to a game, that’s cool. I just don’t want him thinking it’s like—permanent.”

“I see.” She was calm now, frigidly so. It would help keep the hurt in check. “You’re afraid he might begin to see you as a father figure.”

“Well, yeah. Kind of.”

“That’s natural enough. But then, he spends a lot of time with Mr. Finkleman, too, and with Billy Bowers down the street.”

“Finkleman’s old enough to be his grandfather, and the Bowers kid is eighteen.” Coop backed off, realizing there was a touch of jealousy in the defense. “And they don’t have the same sort of thing going with you.”

She arched both brows. “Thing?”

“Relationship,” he said tightly. “Whatever the hell you want to call it. Damn it, we only slept together once.”

“I’m aware of that.” Carefully she set the wrench aside. It would give her only momentary pleasure to heave it at his head.

“That came out wrong,” he said, furious with himself. “It sounded like it didn’t mean anything. It did, Zoe.” A great deal, he was afraid. A very great deal. “It’s just that…”