by Kristy Marie
He’s still a little testy about me bringing him here. That’s fine. He needs a little while to adjust.
I look at Cooper and flash him a smile. “Shall we have our first dance as husband and wife?” I hold out my hand. It’s not like we had a fake wedding reception too.
Cooper looks at Pops, as if he’s setting an example or realizing he has to play along to make this whole shotgun wedding thing seem realistic before flashing me a smile. “It’d be my pleasure, Mrs. Lexington.”
“How fancy,” Pops scoffs. “Don’t embarrass her.”
Cooper and I both ignore his comment and turn, leaving him with his fixation on the lady in pearls.
“I’m surprised to see you here,” I say, just as Cooper pulls us to a stop in the middle of the grass, far enough away from the residents that we won’t knock anyone down, but still close enough that we don’t look weird dancing in a random spot.
“Well,” he says, spinning me around, not following the hula beat at all. “I had to make sure you both didn’t end up in jail.” He dips me and I squeal, watching as his eyes light up. “You two, together, are trouble. You two with a wrench and a cane…are a felony waiting to happen.”
That smile of his face is lethal. Even my flighty heart isn’t immune.
“I’m offended,” I lie, just as he pulls me up and into his chest.
That damn smile peeks out again. “No, you’re not.”
“I should be.” I fight off a grin.
“You should,” he agrees, stepping back and leading me around the grass like he actually knows what he’s doing.
“Where’d you learn to dance?” I peer down between the foot of space between us, his feet moving effortlessly in a pattern.
“My brother.”
I pull us to a stop, my eyebrows nearly to my hairline. “Your brother?”
Dropping my hand, his finger skims up my bare arm and stops at my chin before he pushes my jaw closed. His feet start moving, and for a moment, I think he isn’t going to answer me, but again, he proves me wrong.
“You already know my mother died when I was young and Mav—“He swallows harshly, and I almost tell him that he doesn’t have to explain, but my curious nature wins out, and I keep my mouth shut, waiting for him to finish.
“Maverick never cared about dances or anything. In fact, he never went to one school function. But one night we were talking—he was in college then—I told him I was attempting to learn to dance from the internet, so I didn’t look like a fool with this girl I was dating.” He flashes me a smile, but this time, it’s fake. “Back then I was cool. Captain of the baseball team and had an on again, off again girlfriend… The world was at my fingertips.”
He spins us again to prove he’s mastered this whole dancing thing.
“The last thing I wanted to do was embarrass myself, and well, my brother knew I didn’t know how to dance.” He shrugs. “So he shows up one night with a threat and a promise that we’d never speak of what was about to happen. Then he showed me how to dance.”
A laugh has me hiding my face in his chest. “You danced together?”
His own rumbling of laughter joins mine. “We did, and it was as awkward as you can imagine.”
Images of him and his brother, locked in each other’s embrace, sends me into another fit of laughter. “I wish I could have seen it.”
“No, no you do not. It was bad. Maverick doesn’t drink, so we were both sober as nuns.” He shivers. “No siblings should ever be that close.”
“But he did it for you.”
“He did. He’s a decent brother when he wants to be.”
Sounds like he’s more than just a decent big brother.
“I always wanted siblings,” I admit softly. “Real ones, you know? Not foster ones—though some weren’t all that bad.”
A muscle twitches in Cooper’s cheek. “They weren’t nice to you?”
“Most of them were, yeah.” He goes in for another dip. I don’t squeal this time. “But with foster siblings…” Pausing, I try to figure out how to say this. “I don’t form attachments. I’m only loyal until the next time I’m moved. No one is permanent in my life.”
I watch as my words sink in, but Cooper never makes a face or realizes why we can never be. He might be honoring this marriage for now, but I’m a risk he cannot afford to take. I’m not like his brother. I don’t even know if I have that attachment trait. Well, I guess I can get attached—somewhat. Griffin proved that. But even then, he still left me.
Nothing is permanent in my life.
“You say that as if it’s a warning.”
I can’t tell if he’s being serious or not.
“I say it as if I don’t understand what it feels like to have a big brother drive down from college and be awkward with me.”
That’s the truth.
He nods. “Maybe you could borrow mine sometime.”
I burrow my head in his shoulder and smile. “Maybe.”
It’s all I can offer not to ruin the moment. Especially when Cooper turns us and whispers, “Look.”
I pull my head up quickly and immediately miss the smell of mint and leather. “Ah!” It’s all I can do not to clap. “He’s talking to her!”
Cooper chuckles. “I wouldn’t call it talking yet. More than likely, he’s saying something completely inappropriate that will get him pepper sprayed.”
Watching Pops tuck one hand in his trousers, leaning on his cane like Papa Pimp, I smile. “You’re probably right, but by the blush on her cheeks, I’m wagering she likes his brand of inappropriate.”
Cooper’s groan is loud enough that I’m sure Pops’s hearing aids pick it up. “How long is this thing again?”
He spins us around so I can no longer watch as Pops gets his flirt on. “Three hours.”
“Three hours? It might as well be a decade.” His voice is whiny, like seeing his Pops hit on a woman really bothers him.
“Do you not want Pops to find a friend?”
Cooper stops dancing. “He has a friend.” His brows rise. “You.”
I wave him off. “I know, but I mean like a lady—”
The hand that throws a hundred-mile-an-hour-fastball slaps over my mouth. “Do not use those words around me.”
“Okay,” I mumble around his hand. “No lady talk.”
He drops his hand and I immediately pick up where I left off. “I thought you wanted Pops to branch out?”
There has to be a reason that he tensed beneath my hands and it’s not because of the word lady.
“I do, but he’s still recovering. He can’t be out living it up like a college kid.”
Ah, I see what’s going on here. “You’re scared he might want to move out.”
Cooper scoffs. “No. That’s not it at all. I just worry about him.”
That he does. Probably more than he should, considering he’s the grandson and not the grandfather. But if anyone can understand loving a parent unconditionally, even when you know it’s time to let go, it’s me.
We do a final spin. “Are you thirsty?”
Not really, but I nod anyway because I know he wants out of this conversation. “Sure.” I take his hand and let him lead me to the table of refreshments and cute little coconut cups.
“You two looked like you were having fun out there.” A gray-haired lady, with only a handful of wrinkles, ladles out a cup of punch and hands one to each of us. “How long have you two been married?”
I smother a laugh, just as Cooper clears his throat and responds, “Only a few—”
“—Fourteen months.”
I nearly give myself whiplash as I stare wide-eyed at Cooper.
Did he—Yes, he just told this woman we’d been married fourteen months, which is so not true.
His gaze travels to my barely-there baby bump. His words from the other day come back to me, I’ll never let anyone be disappointed in you. Not while I’m your husband.
This man. This freaking annoying man is lying, once again,
to save my dignity. This lady will eventually see my stomach grow, and Cooper is already laying the groundwork so no one will whisper about me for getting pregnant out of wedlock.
And yes, I know this is the twenty-first century, and women can have babies without husbands, but I can’t help the way the guilt gnaws at me. Because I didn’t plan this baby, and my decision to have him or her destroyed everything good in my life. That doesn’t mean I don’t love this baby. I do. I want the world for him or her, but I’m not proud of how I got here—how I got to be a mother. So Cooper softening the blow and saving me from more disappointment in myself… means everything.
The woman smiles and points to Cooper. “I can always spot young love when I see it. You too will have many years ahead of you.”
My smile falters, but I’m quick to turn to Cooper. “Unless he leaves his dirty socks next to the hamper again. Then, I might smother him in his sleep.”
Totally not true, since Cooper is far more organized than I am, but he barks out a hearty laugh anyway, his drink sloshing over the side.
The woman just stands there, not smiling or laughing. Just standing stock still.
I elbow Cooper in the ribs like, see what you did? Your damn hot as fire laugh gave her a heart attack.
He elbows me back and sets his cup down. “If you’ll excuse us? Clearly, we have marital problems we need to work out.”
My mouth drops open, and he cuts off any remaining argument with, “Isn’t that right, sugar plum?”
I’m definitely smothering him with yesterday’s socks. I think we can all agree that it would be for the greater good.
Plastering on a fake smile, I meet this sweet lady’s still frozen face. “Sure, hun. Let’s join Pops and his lady friend. I’m sure they would like some company.”
That shuts him up, and he drops that gorgeous smile. “Thank you for the punch,” I say, adding a little wave. “It was delicious.”
We hustle away, both of us quiet until Cooper breaks it by dropping my hand and adding, “I’ll see you and Pops at home.”
I don’t even have time to argue or ask why he had a change of heart. All I can see is his low-hanging head, his shoulders slumped as if I offered to burn his glove.
“Where’s Coop going?”
I turn my gaze to Pops who suddenly appears at my side. “Home. He said he’d meet us there.”
“You two fight?”
I shake my head, watching as Cooper’s car pulls out of the parking lot.
“I’m sure he’s just being a vagina.” Pops pats a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. Let him work it out.”
I guess I have to. He didn’t really give me a choice in the matter. But then again, earlier, I pretty much said I don’t get attached, so maybe he feels like there’s no point in sharing anything with me.
Perhaps he’ll call his brother.
Perhaps he’s just tired.
Perhaps… I care more about him than I thought.
McKinley
It isn’t so much that Cooper’s been ignoring me for the past week; it’s more like he’s kept his distance. Was it because I talked about not settling down? I don’t know. But something during that conversation with the woman at the senior center had him sprinting to the car and burying himself in everything but talking to me.
He’s talked to Pops, watched game footage, cooked, and even helped me clean the kitchen, but talk to me? That’d be a no.
So why am I dragging my tired ass from the bedroom and stepping outside in the back yard where my sweet and antisocial husband is throwing a ball in the dark? Because I’ll use any excuse to force him out of his silence.
“You know,” I say, leaning against the doorframe, “you’d probably locate better pitches in the daylight.”
I can’t see him when he returns, “You shouldn’t be up this late.”
“And you should be asleep. You’ve been awake for more than twenty-four hours now.” Does he have no concept of sleep?
“I slept on the plane.”
“And I won the lottery yesterday. Don’t bullshit me, Lexington. In the two weeks I’ve been with you, I rarely see you sleep.”
I can hear his heavy sigh as the weight of the ball hits the grass. “That’s because you pass out during the evening news.”
This man. I fight off a grin as Cooper approaches me. “The baby zaps a lot of my energy.”
“I’m sure.” He climbs the steps of the deck and is in my face, crowding me before I can think to take a step back. “Yet, you’re out here spying instead of resting.” His nose brushes mine, his breath smelling of alcohol and mint. It’s intoxicating, and I find myself tilting my head back, this crazy little groan slipping out.
“How do you smell so good sweaty?”
I can’t even be mad the question slipped out. It’s a valid question. As sweaty as I’ve seen Cooper, he’s never smelled awful enough to have me turning my head and begging him to shower before the morning sickness kicked in.
His breath tickles my forehead as he drops his head to mine, slipping his arm around my hip and pushing me through the threshold. My muscles go limp while he manhandles me into the kitchen, his head still bowed, his breath dancing along my heated skin as he whispers, “Deodorant. Now, go to bed.”
My head snaps up at his words, and I shove him away. “These pregnancy hormones are making me crazy.”
The deep rumble of his laughter does not help the fuzzy tingles (most likely the baby is farting) bubbling around in my stomach.
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Are you saying I was crazy before the baby?”
A boyish grin emerges and dammit, it’s sexy. “I didn’t say that.”
“That’s what you implied.” I’m no fool. I also know it’s true, but Cooper doesn’t need to be right all the time or assume that I didn’t just have pregnancy-brain when I groaned at his closeness and asked why he smelled so dang good.
Brenda said always to leave a little mystery. She swore men were born to be hunters and gatherers. “Give them the hunt of a lifetime, Mac, and they will gather every piece of you and cherish it for all of eternity.”
At the time, I thought she was on the “good meds” as she battled ovarian cancer in her final days. But now, I think she might have been on to something. Especially as Cooper’s grin morphs into a frown as he gets his first look at me in the light. His gaze roams from the top of my breasts to my knees.
“That’s my shirt.”
I grin, happy that he’s the uncomfortable one now. “Actually, this shirt is ours. Until delivery do us part, remember?”
If I could give myself a high-five, I so would have. Instead, I focus on the frown my husband can’t seem to shake. “But it’s my jersey.”
Looking down, I finger the navy buttons. “It’s easy to take off.”
His eyes widen.
“I get hot at night.” I shrug. “Happens when another human is inside you.” Cooper doesn’t move or say anything, and it’s making me feel a little awkward. “I mean, you have like twenty of them or something. Can’t you just ask them for another one, let me borrow this one for a while?”
Is he really that upset that I borrowed a jersey? “The other button-downs you have aren’t as loose as this one.”
Finally, Cooper snaps out of it. “Keep it.”
“Thank you.” I think. “I’ll make sure I give it back at the end of… you know.”
He pushes past me. “Yeah, I know. Go to bed.”
The next thing I know, his bedroom door clicks shut and he’s gone.
The next morning, Cooper went for a run and took up his strategy of effectively ignoring me again. I’m starting to think he might have a split personality or just a bad case of an attitude problem.
“You’re home today, right?”
Bad Attitude is lounged on the sofa, his head hanging low in a dark pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. He looks grumpy and oh so snuggly. Not that I want to snuggle with him, I’m just saying he
could sell the shit out of some sweatpants if a company ever needed a boost in sales.
“Coop?”
Is he asleep? I think so.
Finally! After our encounter last night, I couldn’t sleep and ended up just lying there, listening as his door creaked opened and the TV in the living room turned on, playing back footage of a game.
The man has a problem with insomnia. I don’t buy that shit that I fall asleep and don’t catch him sleeping. This—him asleep on the sofa mid-afternoon—proves it. He doesn’t sleep, and these little cat naps are all he manages. No wonder he needed help with Pops. The man works himself to death; between watching game footage, practicing his throws, working out, taking Pops to therapy, and cooking for us all, he has no time left—especially for sleeping.
Walking over, I lean down and gently touch his shoulder. He jerks upright, his eyes wild and heavy. “Hey,” I say, calmly. “I’m sorry to wake you. I just wanted to make sure you’d be home all day today. I have a doctor’s appointment this afternoon. I tried to make it for the morning before I had to take Pops to his senior program, but they didn’t have any openings.”
Still in a daze, Cooper nods, answering my question, while scrubbing his hand over his face. “Yeah, I’ll be here.”
Now I feel terrible, even though I need this appointment and looked at Cooper’s calendar ahead of time, making sure he had a day off to pick up Pops from the senior center, but still. Maybe I could reschedule. “So you don’t mind picking him up from the senior center?”
“I got him. Go to your appointment.” His voice is thick with sleep.
“Okay,” I say. “It’s over at three, and if I get out early, I’ll pick him up.” It’s my job after all.
“I’ll get him. Don’t worry about it.”
“Thanks.” I mean it. If it wasn’t for Cooper slipping me a temporary insurance card the other night and handing me a list of OBs his teammates’ wives recommended, I would never be here with an appointment reminder on my phone. “Go back to sleep.”
And like the stubborn ass he is, he stands and shakes his head. “That’s okay, I need to get up and prepare lunch.”
