Just Maybe (Home In You Book 3)

by Crystal Walton

  If Cindy Mae caught the insinuation in Cooper’s jab, she didn’t show it. Brian, on the other hand, adjusted his collar.

  Yet instead of unleashing the arsenal of questions he’d had years to accumulate, a hint of unresolved pain was all his expression offered. “Then you better hold on to her tight,” he said without releasing her gaze. Brian dipped his head at both of them like a cowboy tipping his hat. “Give your father my regards.”

  Even after he and Cindy Mae had made it into the parlor, Quinn stayed tucked under Cooper’s arm. He stood like a firm pillar beside her—one she shouldn’t have leaned on but couldn’t bring herself to pull away from.

  “Are you okay?”

  Not even remotely. “Fine.” At least it was over and out of the way.

  Panic climbed her neck in a rebuttal. She hung her head in her hand. “If my mom hears about this—”

  “Quinn Mary Beth Thompson.”

  No. It wasn’t fair. Her muscles constricted, willing the sound of Mama’s voice back to some hidden part of her psyche. Please be dreaming.

  “Mary Beth?” Cooper mouthed with too much amusement.

  Quinn would’ve popped him if she could move.

  Mama and Aunt Loraine scurried over to them like two chickens just let loose from a henhouse. Cooper seemed to take the cue to let her go and squatted to Brayden’s stroller instead. Wise man.

  “As I live and breathe, that is you.” In a short-sleeved white button-up plagued in a pattern of oversized cherries, Mama raised a hand to her mouth, to her heart, and then to Quinn’s arm. “My baby girl.” A watery gaze swam over her. “Just look at you. A sight for sore eyes, isn’t she, Loraine?”

  “You sure are, darlin’.”

  A quizzical look tipped Mama’s head to the side. “Now, sugar, I think your hair dresser must’ve been standing on a slant when she cut your bangs.”

  And so it began.

  “They’re supposed to be slanted, Mama.”

  “Is that right?” She swept a glance to Aunt Loraine and back. “Well, isn’t that precious.” She reached up. “Maybe if we just—”

  “No one teases their bangs anymore,” Quinn said, ducking away.

  “Don’t be silly. Everyone knows, the higher your hair—”

  “The closer you are to God,” Quinn finished with her.

  Yeah, a lot of good that did any of them. She lifted on her toes to scope out the line to the door. She needed something to occupy her mouth before she said something she shouldn’t.

  Mama squeezed her hand. “Why didn’t you tell me you were home, sweetie?”

  “It was a surprise.” Cooper rose to his feet, making things ten times worse without even knowing it. Or maybe he did. “Pleasure to meet you, ma’am. I’m Cooper, Quinn’s boyfriend.”

  Quinn darted him a tight-lipped smile as he curled her into his side again, clearly enjoying this whole shenanigan far more than he should.

  Two doe-eyed gazes soaked in the full-length of everything that made up Cooper Anderson. Mama fluttered a hand in Aunt Loraine’s direction in search of something steady to grasp. “Baby, you could’ve warned me you were bringing such a handsome young man home. I would’ve gotten my hair done.”

  “You look lovely, Mrs. Thompson.” Cooper leaned down to kiss the back of her hand.

  Mama waved her free one over her flushed cheeks. “Oh, my.”

  Oh, brother.

  He moved on to Aunt Loraine. “Is it Mrs. Thompson as well?”

  “Ms. Thompson.” Still swooning, she ran her fingers along an oversized necklace. “But you can call me whatever you like.”

  As long as someone called Quinn a cab. She had to get out of there. The odds of running into them at this time of day were supposed to be next to nothing.

  Fine, so she’d dropped statistics in college. That didn’t mean it had to take a vengeance on her now.

  Another zing of panic barreled into her. What came out of her own mouth shouldn’t worry her. The things Mama might spill in front of Cooper could ruin everything.

  Mama fluffed out her short, layered hair, recovering. “I don’t understand why you wouldn’t tell us you were here.”

  “That’s my fault. I’ve kept her to myself.” Cooper squeezed her close. “Though, we still have so much to talk about, don’t we, QT?”

  This was some sort of retribution for going along with the nanny thing, wasn’t it? She probably deserved it.

  “Pet names,” Mama practically hummed. “Well, aren’t you two just as sweet as summertime peaches. We certainly have a lot to catch up on ourselves.” She exaggerated a wink to Quinn like everyone in a three-block radius couldn’t see her failing miserably at trying to be subtle.

  The wrinkles jutting out from the corners of her eyes deepened in a visible question. “Now, honey, I’m just a little confused. I thought you were dating someone named Gil.”

  Cooper raised an amused brow, and Quinn clasped her sunglasses so hard, she almost broke them. Was there no end to the humiliation?

  “Oh, um, Gil, yeah. We had a bit of a time-distance problem we couldn’t overcome.” As in, he lived in the imagination of a century-old author. “But we stay in touch.” Every time she picked up Anne of Green Gables. Really, it was the perfect relationship.

  The clank of one of Brayden’s toys hitting the ground ignited a round of cries. Aunt Loraine knelt beside the stroller and held her ice cream cone out to him. “Doesn’t that look good? Now, you just come on over to Aunt Loraine, darlin’. I’ll make it all better.” She finagled him out of the straps, hung him on her hip, and held the cone for him.

  With one of his carefree smiles, Brayden swung his hands together in excitement—straight into either side of the scoop of ice cream. Dollops of chocolate splattered across Aunt Loraine’s face.

  Looking stunned, she blinked the melted chocolate off her lashes while Brayden kept clapping his goopy hands together, making it all the worse.

  Cooper buried his chin in his shoulder, his chest shaking with silent laughter. Quinn bit her lip to keep from joining him.

  “Stop it,” she whispered through her teeth.

  Aunt Loraine stilled Brayden’s hands. “Well, aren’t you just a little booger?”

  Once Cooper regained his composure, he reached for him. “I can take him.”

  “No point in you getting dirty, too, darlin’. We’ll be right back.”

  As they flitted toward the parlor to use the bathroom, Mama took both Quinn’s hands in hers and sighed. “I still can’t believe it. My Motel 6 baby, finally home.”

  Cooper pointed a look at Quinn. “Motel 6 baby?”

  Shoot me now. “We really should be going.”

  “I’m sure we have time for a few stories.” His lopsided grin nearly toppled his whole head sideways.

  Quinn’s eyes narrowed, but the moment Cooper extended his arm, Mama took him hostage for a stroll down memory lane. “After Quinn’s daddy and I got married, we got this silly notion in our heads that we’d go all the way up to see the Statue of Liberty.”

  She patted his bicep, chuckling. “We didn’t even make it past the North Carolina border before turning right back around. But it was so late, we stopped at this Motel 6 off Highway 87.” A rosy blush of nostalgia swelled across her sun-spotted cheeks. “And well, our little Quinn came nine months—”

  “Okay, Mama. We really have to leave. Brayden needs some lunch.” And she needed an exit route. Now.

  “Bring him on back to the house. I have plenty of mac and cheese from last night. It’ll just take a—”

  “No,” Quinn almost shouted.

  “Heavens, child. What’s the matter with you?”

  Quinn stole a minute to iron out her shirt and her voice. “Sorry. I’m just here for a few weeks and trying to work on a routine with Brayden. Plus, we still need to get some shopping done. Lots to do today.” Like drilling a hole through her head.

  “Fine, but you make sure you pick up a bushel of peaches while you’re out.”
Mama leaned toward Cooper. “She makes the best peach cobblers. And her vanilla custard?” She fanned her lashes. “To die for. Our Quinn is exceptional in the kitchen. Always has been. Did you know she ran her own food blog for a while?”

  She listed off Quinn’s cooking skills like she was posting an ad: Single woman desperate to be a southern wife. If Quinn had a peach, she’d surely be gagging on it right now.

  Mama bobbed her brows at Cooper. “Be sure to save at least one cobbler for the cookout at our house Sunday after church. You do go to church, don’t you, honey?”

  Quinn’s throat turned to sandpaper. Forget ice cream. She needed something to drink. Water, whisky—whatever.

  Cool and smooth as usual, Cooper flashed his mind-stopping grin at her. “We’d love to come by on Sunday. Thank you for inviting us, Mrs. Thompson.”

  “Please, you call me Paula, you hear?”

  Quinn speared a glare at him. This wasn’t happening. “But you have to work on your deck, remember, honey?”

  His eyes teemed with inward enjoyment. “It’ll get done. I’ll work fast, dreaming of your vanilla custard.”

  He wasn’t the only one dreaming about it. She’d already envisioned ramming it into his face ten times since this conversation started.

  Aunt Loraine meandered back over and set Brayden in the stroller. “As good as new.” When she straightened, an unexpected look of pity touched her face. “I saw Brian and Cindy Mae inside. It was big of you to speak with them, sweetie. I’m sure it was hard, seeing her like that and all.”

  Quinn tried not to twitch. “I’m fine.”

  “Well, of course you are.” Mama looked between her and Cooper. “You have a new beau now. Everything’s going to work out.”

  Seriously? Ugh. “Bye, Mama.” She turned to leave, but Aunt Loraine’s frantic plea to wait stopped her.

  “You’re coming to the cookout, right? We’ll be brainstorming Ginny’s sweet sixteen party and could really use your help. And just wait till your daddy sees you.” A nonstop beam of hope glowed at her.

  Chin down, Quinn dragged the tip of her Converse in circles in the dirt. “How’s he doing?” she all but whispered.

  Mama’s delayed response drew her gaze from the ground toward a notorious southern smile Quinn could see through. “Oh, he’s just fine, sugar. Has his good days and bad days.” She gave Quinn’s arm a gentle pat. “We just keep praying for more of the good ones.”

  What was the point? It wasn’t like prayers ever got answered anyway. A river of buried brokenness forged through her walls. If a single tear escaped in front of them, she’d—

  “It was so good to run into you ladies.” Cooper pressed a comforting hand to her lower back, once again sensing more than she ever intended him to. “But we really do need to get going.” He prodded her toward his SUV while pushing Brayden’s stroller.

  “Don’t forget to bring your desserts, sweetheart,” Mama called behind them. “Just wait till you taste them, Cooper. One bite, and you won’t want to let go of our Quinn.”

  Quinn whipped an exasperated stare around toward another animated wink proving her life was a walking Jane Austen novel. If Cooper wanted to go to her parents’ house Sunday, he’d better polish up his Mr. Knightly impersonation. Or they’d both be in trouble.

  Chapter Six

  Intervention

  Cooper tried to keep up with Quinn’s beeline to his Audi. He lifted Brayden into his car seat while Quinn paced back and forth a few feet away on a silent rampage. “Take it from me, hoss,” he whispered to Brayden. “It’s better not to ask.”

  After two minutes of messing with the stupid straps, he leaned back and wiped his brow across his arm. If he could analyze financial markets all day long, he should be able to figure out a stinking car seat.

  His incompetence must’ve been some sort of Quinn-magnet. She shimmied her way into the space and managed to fasten the buckles in two point five seconds.

  She backed out of the car and held out her hand. “Keys. I’m driving.”

  Red flag. Uh-uh. Back up. “I’m sorry, do you think that’s a good idea?”

  “Keys!”

  He yanked them free from his pocket but held on. “You know the speed limit’s thirty-five, right?”

  Her amber eyes answered for her as she snatched the keys and whirled toward the driver’s side.

  Cooper looked at Brayden in the mirror. “Just be glad you have a harness.”

  With his own seat belt fastened, he waited for a mile to pass before peering her way to gauge the level of heat waves still steaming off her. “Do you want to—?”

  “No.”

  “But don’t you think we should talk abou—?”

  “No.” She snapped on the blinker and whipped onto a side street.

  Okay then. No talking it was.

  “Seriously, what was that back there?” she rambled off faster than she was driving.

  Apparently, talking was back on the docket.

  “What was what?”

  Quinn flicked a glance at him. “Pretending to be my boyfriend. ‘It was a surprise,’” she mimicked in a sappy voice that sounded nothing like his.

  He leaned into the door panel and stared at her. “It’s called an intervention,” he ribbed right back in that same ridiculous voice. “Those were the people you were hoping not to run into while here, I take it?”

  Mouth tight, she careened into the Piggly Wiggly parking lot, of all places, without responding.

  “You had a problem that needed a solution. Simple as that.”

  “Simple?” She sped into a parking spot and jerked the gearshift into park. “And who said I had a problem?”

  “Your trembling shoulders, for one.” He couldn’t just stand there, watching her hurt like she was. He had to do something. Didn’t she see he was trying to help?

  Her demeanor shifted, and a glimpse of a frail girl hiding something unspoken broke through the mayhem.

  He tugged his ear. “I’m sorry if I went too far. I was trying to make things a little easier on you.”

  “This isn’t simple or easy.” She looked away and massaged her temples. “It’s a disaster.”

  “I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

  “Did you just meet my mom and aunt? Or did I imagine that? Because I’m pretty sure if you were actually there, you’d at least halfway understand.”

  He strained to hold in his amusement at her frazzled expression. Recounting the little run-in with her family wasn’t helping.

  She flung her hand in the air. “See?”

  His laugh tumbled out. “Okay, fine. So, you have some country roots. Big deal.”

  “Big deal?” With another exasperated shake of her head, she opened her door. “Stay here. I need to shop.”

  Didn’t have to tell him twice. He hadn’t come anywhere close to cracking girl-code, but he’d wager ‘need to shop’ translated into ‘don’t come near me unless you want your head bitten off.’ Copy that.

  “Women,” he muttered into the quiet car and then twisted around to face the mirror in front of Brayden’s car seat. “You have a lot to learn, hoss. Starting with the fact that women are 100 percent complicated. Don’t try to figure them out. You can’t. Trust me.”

  He glanced toward Quinn as she strode into the grocery store. “Save yourself some headaches and just accept that they’re beautiful, mysterious creatures capable of driving you insane and leaving you undone at the same time.”

  Brayden twisted a crinkly book, elated at the simple noise it made.

  Cooper laughed at the clear disparity. “That’s right. Keep it uncomplicated. It’s how we men roll.”

  “Roll!” Brayden waved the book against the seat at the same time a text from Ray Williams popped up on Cooper’s cell.

  Call me. The buyers just informed me of a house sale contingency. This could delay our original schedule.

  Not again. He stared at yet another pressing reminder of why he shouldn’t get involved in Quinn’s proble
ms right now. But as his gaze drifted to the empty driver’s seat, his focus strayed into a replay of what’d just gone down at the ice cream parlor. She’d obviously lied to him about being from here. Was she that embarrassed about her family?

  Though, to be fair, he couldn’t exactly fault her for wanting anonymity when he wanted the same. But something about it all felt a little off. If she wanted nothing to do with this place, why come back for a temporary nanny job?

  And how was it that she was mad at him for helping her save face in front of her ex-boyfriend, or whoever that Brian guy was? “You were there,” he said to Brayden. “It was perfect, right?”

  A plastic keyring set nailed him dead in the face, followed by an all-too-amused coo.

  “Oh, you think that’s funny?” He stretched around the seat and reached to tickle Brayden’s leg, igniting a round of baby laughter. It filled the SUV with a sound Cooper wasn’t used to having in his life.

  A mirror reflection of his own eyes smiled back at him and caught him low in the gut. His chest tightened at the tender look on Brayden’s face. He’d been so consumed by the shock of finding out Megan had kept their son from him, he hadn’t allowed himself to feel any other response. He’d immediately jumped into troubleshooting mode and defaulted to keeping Brayden an arm’s length away like everyone else.

  But Brayden wasn’t just anyone else.

  The implications of that truth tore him down the middle, pulling one side from the other. He swallowed hard at the impact of mixed emotions and toyed with the jumbo keys in his lap. Some problem solver he was. Not only had his irresponsibility with Megan ultimately put Brayden in this situation to begin with, he couldn’t see a way to ever make it right. No matter what Cooper did, he’d fail him in some way.

  Megan must’ve known it too. If she thought he was suited to be in Brayden’s life, she wouldn’t have kept him out of it until she had no choice.

  A car door slammed beside him. Tensing, he reached for his seat belt buckle while turning around. Just a kid getting out of a back seat to follow his mom.

  Cooper shook his head. Things with the media might’ve died down the last few days, but that didn’t mean they’d stay that way. How long before they caught wind that he had a son he hadn’t even known about until this week? It’d take them all of three seconds to twist it into some slanderous story to smear across the papers to validate what people already thought about him.