Lattes and Lullabyes

by Kay Lyons

  "Jealous ex-boyfriend?"

  "Worse. Nosy sister. Ireland doesn't usually work nights anymore unless there’s an emergency, but Carolina swings between here and the inn. If she sees us, she'll make it a thing and—"

  "Wait, Carolina, Ireland, and London?"

  She rolled her eyes and wondered if her parents had any clue what they'd done by naming their children as they had since it nearly always required an explanation. "Military dad, remember? We were named after where we were conceived."

  He narrowed his gaze. "Frankie is for…?"

  "France."

  "But you're…London," he said, his eyes narrowing in an adorable way.

  She wrinkled her nose and laughed. "Yeah, well, let's just say Dad had leave… They weren't quite sure where conception took place, and when there were two of us… Yeah," she added, laughing with him because the story always caused some amusement.

  "And your other sister's name is?"

  "Holland."

  He whistled softly. "Your parents got around."

  She giggled as she backed up and turned to lead the way to the T. "That they did."

  "Good life, though? Seems like it from the way you've described it."

  "Yeah. I mean, it was hard to settle in sometimes only to move again and start a new school when he was reassigned, but it was a great opportunity to meet new people. I have friends all over the world from relationships I made as a kid. The internet has allowed us to keep in touch and stay current."

  They slowly walked to the end of the long pier, pausing every now and again to stare at the waves below or the pelicans hanging out, hoping to catch a snack from one of the many fishermen lining the sides.

  "Lots of poles in the water tonight."

  "Just wait until October. It's shoulder to shoulder with all of the tournaments."

  "I've never been here in the off-season."

  She looked around them and lowered her voice to a conspirator's whisper, "Don't tell anyone, but the off-season is the best time to be here. No crowds, no long lines, less traffic and noise. It's our own little paradise."

  "I can't wait."

  They took a few steps in silence before she glanced at him and tried to pry a bit more information out of him. "So… how did you wind up in Carolina Cove? Do you have family here?"

  Cooper inhaled and she caught a flash of an expression on his face that she couldn't quite discern.

  "No. Growing up, my mom's cousin owned a house here, and every now and again she'd call my mom up and offer it for a week if she wanted to get away. Those were the best summers we ever had. So, when I knew I'd be raising the twins, I had to find something bigger than my one-bedroom in Charlotte, and Carolina Cove came to mind. We visited, which is when you met Rocco the first time, and officially moved in last week."

  "Well, I'm glad you did. You'll love it here. It's the quiet months that carry the locals through the crazy ones," she mused with a wry smile. She found an empty bit of railing and leaned against the weather-aged wood to stare out at the waves. The moonlight sparkled atop the water. "Do you surf?"

  She sensed she'd probed a little too much if she read his body language correctly, and hoped the change in subject would let Cooper relax again. Some people were more private than others, and she needed to remember that.

  In her family, it seemed nothing was confidential, so she had to give allowances to those unused to having every move and decision commented upon.

  Cooper leaned against the railing beside her, the act bringing his height down so that his face was closer to hers.

  He had the beginnings of crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes, but instead of taking away from his looks, she felt they added to them, giving him a cragginess that would only get better with age.

  "No. I tried to surf once as a kid. Total disaster.”

  “Oh, no. Why?”

  “I’d found a broken board by the trash and had the bright idea to tape it together. Let’s just say it didn't go well."

  She laughed at the image his words evoked. "Ah, well, you get a ten for creativity and ingenuity. And now that you're living here, maybe you'll get the chance to try again. There's a surf school where you can get lessons."

  "Maybe. We'll see."

  She inhaled the warm salt air and looked back toward the shore at the lights shining here and there inside the houses lining the beach. Carolina Cove was family friendly, quiet. Peaceful on a level that was hard to explain to those who'd never visited.

  London stifled a yawn and glanced at Cooper to find him watching her.

  “Sorry. That was rude.” He stared at her with an intensity and directness she found unnerving, but in a good way. A flutter formed deep in her body, born of awareness and mutual interest.

  "What time do you get up in the morning?"

  She blinked at the question and hated the fact she had to answer honestly. "Mmm. Four thirty," she admitted with a grimace.

  He gave her a stern look, his lips forming a slight whistle as he shook his head. "You need to get back and go to bed, huh?"

  "Yeah, sorry. I can see myself home if you'd like to stay longer."

  He straightened and drew her arm in his, turned them to retrace their steps toward the pier house. "Not a chance. Come on. Let's get you home."

  They retraced their steps and talked about some of the gear the fishermen had carted onto the pier. London spotted a couple of well-known local photographers below on the sand, taking shots of the moon over the water. She'd have to remember to look at their social media profiles so she could see the photos.

  Inside the pier house, London immediately spotted Carolina helping a customer near the tchotchkes over in the corner. London turned and tried to duck through unnoticed, but Carolina saw them just as Cooper opened the street-facing door. London watched her sister's mouth drop and eyes go wide before London rushed to cross the threshold, praying all the while Carolina wouldn't bolt across the building and outside to demand an introduction.

  Walking home didn't take long, especially with them talking the entire way. Cooper asked about her best-selling brew and specifics about the island a newcomer needed to know, and she asked about Rocco's favorite treats, since questions about the twins seemed to be difficult for him. She wasn't sure why, but she was hesitant to press too hard. For now, anyway. When the opportunity came again, she'd ask for more info and hope that now that the ice was broken, so to speak, he would feel comfortable filling her in on the details.

  They arrived outside her apartment door. London turned to face Cooper, and her pulse went into overdrive. Would he kiss her? Did she want him to kiss her? It had been a great night but it wasn't, technically, a date. Was it? "Thank you for dinner. I had a wonderful time."

  "You're welcome. I did, too. Thank you for letting me work, and keeping an eye out for Rocco. I wouldn't be surprised if he shows up again if he manages to make a break for it."

  "It's not a problem. I'll let you know if he does." She pulled her keys from her bag, but her trembling fingers dropped them. London and Cooper moved at the same time, but she managed to stop herself and allowed him to retrieve them, thereby avoiding an even more awkward and potentially mortifying head bump.

  "Thanks," she murmured when he straightened.

  In the shift to get out of his way, she found her back pressed against the door. Cooper's eyes glittered as he reached out to grasp her hand in his and pressed the keys into her palm. He maintained his hold on her and lifted his now empty hand to brush an errant, windblown strand backward, toward her ear. That done, he lightly touched her earring before his fingers lowered to the skin bared by the off-shoulder top.

  Cooper's fingers left a trail of fire, and her breath caught at the intensity. This was definitely something she wasn't used to. This… tangle of intrigue and interest and curiosity.

  Seconds passed. Cooper met her gaze and held it a long moment before he inhaled, lowered his hand, and stepped away. "Good night, London. Sweet dreams."

  Chapter 6


  Cooper let himself into the house as quietly as possible and moved through the dimly lit interior toward his bedroom. The home's third-floor master suite was exclusively his home office since the larger bedroom had all the space needed for filing cabinets, digital storage and backups, monitors, a wall of progress and project boards, desk and conference table, a sitting area, and the like.

  The second floor featured the kitchen, living area, and three bedrooms. The twins shared one bedroom for the time being, and Michelle the largest suite on that level. It had just made sense to give the nanny the second floor so she'd be close to the twins and still have privacy, allowing him privacy either in his office or in the lower-level efficiency-style apartment by the garage he'd taken for his own since it made it easy for him to come and go as needed.

  Cooper dropped his keys in the bowl on the entry table and heard a sharp inhalation. He looked up to see Michelle wearing only a T-shirt that ended at the tops of her thighs. She was perfectly covered and decent considering less was worn on the beach, but it was still a shock to see his nanny in the state she was in.

  "I didn't hear you come in."

  "I didn't mean to startle you. What are you doing down here?"

  "I-I was just… um"—she glanced toward his bedroom door—"checking on Rocco. He got upset when you left and… he was barking. I didn't want him waking the kids."

  Michelle bit her lower lip and padded a few more steps toward him, rather than remain at the elevator door adjacent to his bedroom.

  She paused within a few feet of him, her bare legs gleaming in the light.

  "Do you, um, need anything?" She lifted her hand and smoothed it over her long, straight hair, blinking up at him. "Would you like a drink? I could get us something. We could watch some TV if you like."

  "No, thanks."

  "Are you sure?"

  Decidedly uncomfortable, he cleared his throat and took a step back, disguising the move by pulling his phone from his rear pocket. "Yeah. You go upstairs and enjoy yourself."

  "I wouldn't mind company. Just saying."

  "I have work to do. Good night, Michelle." Cooper watched as she hesitated but finally turned and chose to take the stairs, every step giving him an eye-popping view of her long, bare legs. Was it his imagination or was there a little more sway to her barely covered hips?

  Because she wants you to watch.

  He forced himself to look away and quickly move to his apartment in case she had any doubt as to whether or not she had an audience. Michelle was quickly becoming an issue that had to be addressed, but for now, he wanted to see if he could get a few more hours of coding in as he wound down from the day and processed the evening with London.

  He entered his bedroom and emptied his pockets of change and his wallet, and Rocco greeted him after leaving his position on the couch. After a few pats and ear rubs, Cooper sat on the edge of his bed to toe off his shoes and frowned when the bed felt warm. "Rocco? You been napping up here while I'm gone?"

  Rocco sat on his haunches and stared at him, tongue hanging out of his mouth. Had Rocco moved from the bed to the couch before he'd walked in?

  "Uh-huh." He put his shoes behind the couch for tidiness and headed back across the floor. In the two-story foyer, he opened the elevator door but paused. He could hear the television on the second level, and once again, he wondered what he was going to do about Michelle's behavior. Was he getting signals crossed? Thinking it flirting when she was just being… friendly? Maybe if he simply ignored her, she'd give up?

  He led the way onto the elevator with Rocco following for the ride upstairs. He could have taken the stairs, but he didn't want to risk another encounter with Michelle. But shouldn't it tell him something if he was avoiding the nanny in his employ?

  The elevator arrived on the third floor, and Cooper unlocked the door with a press of the ten-digit key code. He took his clients' privacy and security seriously.

  As he settled himself in his desk chair, the night replayed in his mind.

  Rocco head-butted Cooper's hand a time or two and sniffed. Cooper palmed the dog's head and scratched, grateful for the distraction. "Hey, bud. Yeah, you smell London, don't you? You like her? That why you keep going back?"

  He scratched Rocco's soft head, mind drifting. "I don’t blame you. She's smart, funny. Beautiful," he said to the dog. "Comes from a great family from the sounds of it. All the more reason for her to steer clear of the crazy in this house, huh? I mean, there's an awful lot of evidence that Daria was right. No one in their right mind would want to take us on." He lowered his voice. "Kids, crazy, or flirtatious nanny," he said, shaking his head. "No wife or girlfriend would put up with that."

  Rocco blinked and whined softly, his expression sorrowful.

  Cooper released Rocco after another lengthy pat and gently pushed the dog away to unlock his computer. A quick search about his dinner companion revealed five-star reviews of London's Lattes with numerous comments about the beautiful owner.

  The search also brought up images of her family via social media, along with newspaper articles featuring her family's various involvements in the community, none of which had anything to do with DUIs, drugs, thefts, or arrests. Cooper stared at the photos, mostly of London, but also her sisters, listed by their unusual names.

  All five women were beautiful, seemingly happy. But why wouldn't they be? Maybe life hadn't turned out perfect for them, but when childhood wasn't a horror show full of suck, the odds were a little more favorable for a decent outcome.

  Cooper sighed and ran his hand over his mouth and chin, remembering the way London had looked sitting across from him at the table. The conversation tonight had been engaging. London lit up a room when she entered, and it was obvious the locals thought a lot of her given the reactions she'd received as they'd entered the restaurant and walked along the pier.

  By London's own words, her family was very involved in her life. Dinner had been fun. More fun than he'd had in months. Longer, considering the months before the breakup had been spent fighting with Daria over his decision to take in the twins.

  He knew numbers. Statistics. And London's loving, stable background versus his chaotic, dysfunctional one would never mesh. She was the type of woman who'd want more. The white picket fence in front of a beach house, more kids. Involvement with her family, which he had no clue how to do. She'd need more than he knew how to give. More than he knew how to be.

  He groaned and sat back in his chair.

  Enough. Fantasies wouldn't get the work done. Wouldn't provide for the children now in his care. And that was priority number one.

  Dating London?

  If anything, tonight had proven without a doubt that wasn't going to happen.

  Early the following morning, London woke up to a bevy of texts from Carolina. She'd turned on her Do Not Disturb during the walk home and had gone straight to bed once she'd managed to get her quivering legs moving after Cooper's unusual goodbye.

  But now?

  Two missed phone calls and sixty-two texts. Carolina had resorted to texting the alphabet one letter at a time, something the sisters had started doing to demand a response when texts weren't returned fast enough, and then backwards, which made up fifty-two of the texts received. The other ten were demands for details. Multiple hellllllllos, and one threat of bodily harm if London didn't respond.

  Carolina was nothing if not persistent.

  Still, London didn't have a slew of calls and texts from the rest of her family, which meant Caro had managed to keep her mouth shut about spotting them leaving the pier house. A small reprieve, if nothing else, but she'd better talk to Carolina soon or all bets were off.

  They'd been seen by others. Walking down the streets, in the restaurant, on the pier. If her family hadn't already heard about her dinner out last night, they would soon. Such was life in a fishbowl—otherwise known as an island.

  "It's about time."

  London jumped at the sound of the voice coming from the d
arkened interior of the coffeehouse. She'd just left the private interior stairwell leading up to her apartment and was about to hit the lights when Carolina spoke. "Yeah, I'm going to need that spare key back. Like, now."

  "Nope," Carolina grumbled from where she pushed herself up from the couch lining the far wall.

  "You slept here?"

  "Well, I wouldn't call what I did sleeping, but yeah. I mean, my shift at the pier house lasted until two because I covered for one of the guys, but I came straight here because I knew it would only be a few hours before you came down."

  "Why didn't you just come up?"

  "Because maybe you weren't alone?"

  London immediately set to work brewing the first round for the day and shook her head at her sister's words. "You know I don't do that."

  "I know you don't, but when you didn't answer any of my texts—"

  "You thought I brought him home and slept with him?"

  "Hey, we always know when one of us is dating someone, but you've been keeping secrets."

  "No, I haven't. I'm not dating anyone," she said in response to Carolina's look of disbelief. "I only just met the man. And it wasn't a date. It was a thank-you dinner."

  "You were dressed for a date. And lookin' hot, by the way—I wanna borrow that top sometime. He was hot, too. You made quite the fetching couple, and I wasn't the only one who noticed. Good on ya, mate."

  "Will you stop with the Australianisms?"

  "Hey, I have to practice so I fit in when I finally save up enough money to visit. And stop changing the subject. We're talking about you," Carolina said, the you emerging on a yawn and lasting several syllables.

  "You should go home to Holland's and go to bed."

  "I don't want to wake everyone up when they'll have to get up in a few hours anyway. For a kid, Samuel sure is a light sleeper," she said, referring to their nephew.

  Ever since the hurricane had damaged Carolina's tiny apartment in the pier house attic, she'd been living at Holland's house with Holland, Ireland, and Ireland's son, Samuel. With Holland’s heavy travel schedule and London’s and Carolina’s work schedules, the house was mainly used for sleeping when time allowed. "How are Ireland and Dominic doing?"