The Best Mistake

by Nora Roberts

  Coop started to look in the backseat and realized he couldn’t face it. Earlier in the week he’d made that mistake, and discovered wads of chewing gum on the rug, cookie crumbs everywhere and a mysterious green substance smeared on the seat.

  In his weakened state, even a candy wrapper was likely to tip the balance.

  “Yoo-hoo!” Mrs. Finkleman stripped off her flowered garden gloves and headed across the lawn in a flowing tent dress and electric-blue sandals. “How was your swim, little man?”

  “We had races, and Brad dunked Carly and made her cry even though Coop told him not to, and I can hold my breath under water for twelve seconds.”

  “My goodness.” She laughed and ruffled Keenan’s hair. “You’ll be in the Olympics next.” Her shrewd eyes took in Coop’s haggard face. “You look a little frazzled, Coop. Keenan, why don’t you run in and tell Mr. Finkleman you want a piece of that cherry cobbler he baked today?”

  “Okay!” He tugged on Coop’s hand. “Do you want some? Do you wanna come?”

  “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 the L word. 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.

  “Hi.”

  “How’s it going?” Coop jingled the keys in his pocket. Did she look all lit up? he wondered. She was smiling, and despite the shadows of fatigue under them, her eyes did have the prettiest lights in them.

  “I was just going to call upstairs. I thought you’d like some dinner after a hard day at the pool.” She opened the screen door and leaned out to kiss him. The smile dimmed a bit when he eased back. “It’s just chicken and pasta.”

  It smelled nearly as good as she did. He glanced inside—the homey scene: cluttered counters, fresh flowers, steam rising from a pan on the stove, the child sprawled on the floor, the pretty woman offering him food and kisses.

  A definite trap.

  “Thanks, but I’m on my way out.”

  “Oh. I thought you had a couple hours before game time.” She laughed at his arched brow. “I guess I’ve been paying more attention to the sports scene. Baltimore versus Toronto, game one of three.”

  “Yeah.” When she starts to take an interest in your interests, she’s really shutting the cage door. “I’ve got some stuff to do.”

  “Can I go with you?” Keenan dashed to the door to tug on Coop’s slacks. “Can I go to the game? I like watching them with you best.”

  Coop could almost hear the locks clicking into place. “I’ve got too much to do,” he said, with an edge to his voice that had Keenan’s lips quivering. “Look, it’s not just a game, it’s my job.”

  “You said I was good luck.”

  “Keenan.” Zoe put her hand on her son’s shoulder to draw him back, but her eyes stayed on Coop’s. “Did you forget Beth was coming over to stay with you tonight? She’ll be here soon, and you’re going to watch a tape of your favorite movie.”

  “But I wanna—”

  “Now go wash your hands for dinner.”

  “But—”

  “Go on now.”

  The way Keenan
’s face crumpled would have softened an ogre’s heart. Dragging his feet, he headed out of the kitchen.

  “I can’t take him with me everywhere. . . .” Coop began defensively.

  “Of course not. He’s just overtired. I couldn’t have let him go, in any case.” She hesitated, wishing she could ignore her instincts. “Is everything all right?”

  “Everything’s fine.” He didn’t know why he shouted it. He didn’t know why he felt like something slimy stuck to the bottom of a shoe. “I have a life, you know. I don’t need kids climbing up my back or you fixing me dinner. And I don’t have to explain myself.”

  Her eyes turned very cool, her face very composed. “You certainly don’t. I appreciate you helping me out the past couple of weeks. Let me know if I can return the favor.”

  “Look, Zoe—”

  “I’ve got to get dinner on the table or I’ll be late for work.” She let the screen door slam between them. “Enjoy the game.”

  She knew exactly how long he continued to stand there while she worked at the stove. Knew exactly when he turned and walked away.

  It wasn’t unexpected, she reminded herself. This backing away was typical, even understandable. Perhaps it had taken Coop a few weeks to completely comprehend that she didn’t come as a single. She was part of a pair, a ready-made family, with its share of responsibilities and problems and routines.

  And he was opting out.

  He might not even know it yet, she thought, but he was in the first stages of a full retreat.

  Her eyes blurred, her chest heaved. Resolutely she choked the tears back. She would indulge herself with a nice long cry later, she promised. But for now she had a little boy to soothe.

  When he came back in, she crouched down until they were eye-to-eye.

  “You had a good time with Coop today, didn’t you?”

  Keenan sniffled, nodded.

  “And he’s taken you a lot of places. You’ve had fun, and done a lot of new things.”

  “I know.”

  “You should be grateful for that, baby, instead of pouting because you can’t have more.”

  She straightened again and hoped she could take her own advice.

  Chapter 9

  “You’re spending a lot of time around here.” Ben edged a hip onto the corner of Coop’s desk. All around Coop’s cubicle phones rang, keyboards clattered.

  “So?” Without taking his eyes from the computer screen, Coop hammered out the draft of his weekly column.

  “I just figured you had it made in that apartment of yours. I mean, great location.” He thought of Zoe. “Great view. You didn’t spend as much time in here when you lived downtown.”

  “I needed a change of scene.”

  “Yeah.” Ben snorted and picked up a baseball from Coop’s desk. “Trouble in paradise?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. And I’ve got a column to write.”

  “Pretty obvious the last few weeks that you’ve been stuck on the landlady.” He tossed the ball from one hand to the other. “I mean, when a man hauls a kid around, buys little baseball jerseys, it follows that he’s hooking a line into Mom.”

  Coop’s eyes flashed up. “I like the kid, okay? I don’t have to use a four-year-old to get a woman. The kid’s cool.”

  “Hey, I got nothing against rug rats. Might even have a few of my own one day. The thing is, when a woman’s got one, a man has to play Daddy if he wants the inside track.”

  “Who says I have to play at anything to get a woman?”

  “Not me. But it was you who couldn’t shoot hoop last week because you were taking the family to the aquarium.” Ben winked, set the ball down. “Still, I bet you scored better than I did.” Ben jerked back as Coop lunged for his throat.

  “It’s not like that,” Coop said between his teeth.

  “Hey, hey. Just yanking your chain. I wouldn’t have made any cracks if I’d known you were serious about her.”

  Coop’s grip loosened. “I didn’t say I was serious. I said it wasn’t like that.”

  “Whatever you say.”

  Disgusted with himself, Coop dropped back in his chair. He and Ben had been riding each other about women for better than five years. No reason to overreact, he thought. Or to make a fool of himself. “Sorry. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

  “Forget it. What you need’s a distraction. You coming to the poker game tonight?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good. Losing money should put you back on track.”

  Something had to, Coop thought as he sat back alone in his cubicle to stare at his screen. For the past three days he’d slept little, eaten less and gone around in a constant state of flux.

  Because he was avoiding the issue, he decided. Opting to bunt when he should be swinging away. The only solution to getting his life back in order was to face the problem head-on.

  He flicked off his terminal.

  * * *

  The beautiful thing about an afternoon off, Zoe thought, was the solitude. No customers to talk to, no orders to fill. It meant she didn’t have to be salesclerk, or waitress, or Mom, or anything but Zoe.

  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, tha
t’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 . . .”

  “Now you’re terrified that Keenan and I will trap you into a family. That you’ll wake up one morning and be Daddy, with a wife and a mortgage and a small boy who needs attention.”

  “Yes. No. Something like that.” He was burying himself, he realized, and he suddenly didn’t know why. “I just want to make myself clear.”

  “Oh, I think you have. Perfectly.” She rubbed her hands on her knees as she studied him. “You needn’t worry, Coop. I advertised for a tenant, not a father for my child, or a husband for myself. I slept with you because I wanted to, not because I thought I could lure you to the altar.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that.” Frustrated, he dragged a hand through his hair. However well he’d planned this little scene, it was going all wrong. “I wanted you. I still do. But I know how badly you were let down before. I don’t want to hurt you, Zoe. Or the kid. I just don’t want you thinking I’d slide into the gap.”

  The anger came back, one swift wave of it that reddened her vision. She was on her feet before either of them realized she’d moved. “Keenan and I don’t have a gap. We’re a family, as real and as complete and as full a family as any could be.” She jabbed the wrench at his chest. “Just because Daddy doesn’t make three doesn’t mean we’re less of a unit.”