Summer Love: The Best Mistake / Impulse

“Yes, it’s very nice.” She bent down to kiss Keenan. “Thank you.”

“I get to go to the Finklemans’ so you can have romance.”

“Ah, come on, kid.” Coop scooped Keenan up. “Let’s get you started. You were supposed to keep quiet about it,” he muttered when he carried the boy outside.

“What’s romance?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

Satisfied with that, Keenan draped his arm around Coop’s neck. “Are you gonna tell Mama the secret about us all getting married?”

“That’s the plan.”

“And you’ll live with us and you can be my Daddy and that’ll be okay?”

“That’ll be great. It’ll be perfect.” He stopped by the fence to press a kiss to Keenan’s mouth. “I love you, Keenan.”

“Okay.” He squeezed his arms hard around Coop’s neck. “Bye.”

“Bye.”

“Yoo-hoo!” Mrs. Finkleman stood at the back door. She sent Coop a wink and an exaggerated thumbs-up sign before whisking Keenan inside.

She was standing pretty much where Coop had left her when he came back. He wasn’t sure whether or not that was a good sign.

“So, ready for some champagne?”

“Coop, this is very nice of you, but—”

“Like the flowers?” Nervous as a cat, he popped the cork.

“Yes, they’re wonderful, but—”

“I couldn’t get them where you work, or I’d have spoiled the surprise. Keenan really gave me a hand setting things up.” He handed her the glass, and when she was distracted, he leaned in for a slow, warm kiss. “Hi.”

“Coop.” She had to wait for her heart to finish its lazy somersault. “I know you must have gone to a lot of trouble—”

“I should have gone to it before. I didn’t know I wanted to.”

“Oh, Lord.” She turned away and struggled to get her emotions under control. “I’ve given you the wrong impression this time. I don’t need the trappings. I don’t have to have romantic evenings and”—she waved toward the tapers on the table, waiting to be lit—“candlelight.”

“Sure you do. So do I, when they’re with you.”

“You’re trying to charm me,” she said unsteadily. “That’s new.”

“You know what I am. The way this house is set up, we’ve practically been living together for the past month or so. People get to know each other quicker that way than just by socializing. So you know what I am, and you fell for me anyway.”

She took a drink. “You’re awfully smug about it. I told you my feelings are my responsibility, and that holds true. A romantic dinner doesn’t change it.”

It looked like strike two, but Coop knew that if he was going to go down, he’d go down swinging. “So I want to give you a nice evening. Is something wrong with that? I want to do better than propose over scrambled eggs when I’ve got a hangover.” His voice had risen, and he bit down on it. “Damn it, this is my first time, have a little tolerance. No, don’t say anything, let me finish this. You don’t need me.” He took another long breath. “Not for taking care of things, for you or the kid, I mean, for mowing the grass or putting stupid barbecue grills together. What about what I need, Zoe?”

She blinked at him. “Well, that’s just it. Don’t you see? You made it clear that you don’t need or want ties. I come with ties, Coop.”

“I made it clear,” he muttered. “I didn’t make anything clear, because I didn’t know. Didn’t want to know. I was scared. There. You feel better knowing that?” He glared at her. “I was scared, because I need you. Because I need to see your face and hear your voice and smell your hair. I just need you to be there. And I need to help you mow the grass and put the grill together. I need you to need me back.”

“Oh.” She shut her eyes. “I like hearing that.”

“Then tell me you will.” He took her arms until she opened her eyes again. “It’s my last swing, Zoe. Marry me.”