Summer Love: The Best Mistake / Impulse

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“Don’t want coffee. Doesn’t sober you up, only wakes you up. And I’m awake, and I have something to say to you.” He drew away then, and discovered he wasn’t as steady as he’d hoped. “But I’ll sit down.” He did, heavily. “Hate getting drunk. Haven’t done it like this since I played minor league. Did I tell you I played minor league ball? Triple A.”

“No.” Baffled, she stood her ground and watched him. “Right out of high school. Two years. Thought I’d make it to the show. The majors. But I didn’t, so I went to college, and now I write about people who did.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No.” He waved that away. “I like writing. Always did. Like watching the games and seeing all the little dramas. If I’d have played, I’d be nearly washed up now. I’m almost thirty-three. Old man for the game.” He focused on her, smiled. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life. You know, the kid looks just like you. Look at him, see you. It’s spooky. I see you all the time. Minding my own business, and pop! There’s your face in my head. What d’ya make of that?”

“I don’t know.” She wanted to be angry with him, really she did. But he was so foolishly drunk. “Why don’t I take you upstairs, Coop? Put you to bed.”

“I want you in my bed, Zoe. I want to make love with you. I want to touch you again.”

She wanted that, too. Very much. But new lines had been drawn. “You said you wanted to talk to me.”

“Do you know what your skin feels like? I can’t describe it, it’s all soft and smooth and warm. I started thinking about your skin when I was playing poker and getting drunk tonight. I won, too. Took a big pot with a pair of sixes. Pulled in over two hundred and fifty dollars.”

“Congratulations.”

“But I kept thinking about you. You have this little dimple right here.” He nearly poked himself in the eye, then dragged a finger down his cheek to the corner of his mouth. “I kept thinking about that little dimple, and your skin, and those big eyes and killer legs. And I kept thinking how I like to watch you with the kid, like I do sometimes from upstairs, when you don’t know. Didn’t know that, did you?”

“No,” she said quietly. “I didn’t.”

“Well, see…” He gestured wildly. “You’ve got this way of running your hand over his hair. It gets to me.” He shook his head. “It really gets to me. Keenan loves me, you know. He told me he did. So did you.”

“I know.”

“And I meant everything I said this afternoon.”

“I know.” Sighing, she walked over to undo his shoelaces.

“Every word, Zoe. I’ve got my life set, just like I want it.”

“Okay.” She pried off his shoes, hefted his legs onto the couch.

“So you can stop popping into my head, ’cause it’s not changing anything.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

He was asleep before she bent over and kissed his cheek.

Chapter 10

As hangovers went, Coop knew, this would be a champ. He didn’t have to open his eyes, he didn’t have to move, not when his head was already beating like the Army drum corps.

He wasn’t sure how he’d managed to get home and into bed, but the blur of the evening wasn’t comforting. Still, he thought it best to wait to tax his brain.

Cautious, close to fearful, he opened his eyes. The little face directly above him had him jerking back, then moaning at the pain.

“Good morning,” Keenan said cheerfully. “Did you sleep over?”

“I don’t know.” Coop lifted a hand to his head. “Where’s your mother?”

“She’s making my lunch. She said I could come in and look at you if I didn’t wake you up. I didn’t wake you up, did I? I was really quiet.”

“No.” Coop closed his eyes again and prayed for oblivion.

“Are you sick? Do you have a tempature?” Keenan laid a small, light hand on Coop’s aching forehead. “Mama can make it better. She always makes it better.” Very gently, Keenan replaced his hand with a kiss. “Does that help?”

Oh, hell, Coop thought. Even a hangover didn’t have a chance against this kid. “Yeah, thanks. What time is it?”


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