He hung his head. Tanya was right. His profile came with a price. Which was exactly why he needed to shield Brayden from it—and anyone else he might end up caring about.
Another glance toward the store ended in a hard exhale. How many more blatant reasons did he need to convince himself he had enough complications overtaking his world without adding Quinn Thompson to the mix?
Except, he already had.
The sorrow in her eyes broke into his thoughts with the same ache that had driven him to rescue her from it back at the parlor. As preoccupied as he was with everything else, he couldn’t ignore she stirred something in him. Maybe he didn’t get her sticky note fetish, coffee snobbery, or grammar fascination, but pain he understood.
He craned his neck and let out a moan. Three more weeks. “Either I’m about to crack girl-code or get a good crack to the skull. You ready to weigh the odds?”
A puzzled look peered back at him from the mirror. He could joke about Quinn being crazy, but he was the one out here having a man-to-man talk with a one-year-old.
He smiled on his way out the door, leaving the sudden onslaught of emotions in the SUV.
With Brayden in one arm, he stood at the trunk, trying to shake open the stroller. He probably should’ve gotten it out first, then put Brayden in it. Real smart, Anderson.
His cell rang from his pocket. Hands full, he shook the annoying stroller even harder. “Hang on a sec,” he said as if the person calling could hear him. But by the time his hands were finally free, his voice mail was already dinging with a message from his realtor.
Cooper raked his damp hair back while peering against the hot sun toward the store. He’d return Ray’s call when they got home. Right now, he had bigger problems to deal with.
“C’mon, hoss.” He pushed the stroller forward. “It’s time to learn how to be the southern gentleman your mom would want you to be.”
A rush of A/C and beeping registers greeted them inside the grocery store. Cooper stopped short on his way to start weaving through the aisles when the sight of Quinn’s yellow shirt up near the checkout lines caught his eye. Huh. Faster than he thought.
“Looks like we might’ve lucked out.” He maneuvered through the line to reach her, took one look at the cram-packed cart, and leaned down to Brayden. “Then again, maybe not. Reinforcement time.”
He jumped right in unloading the shopping cart onto the conveyor belt. Chocolate ice cream, dark chocolate bars, chocolate sauce. Yeah, definitely not out of danger territory yet.
He’d never seen someone binge shop before, but from the looks of the tower of butter, sugar, and spices, he was pretty sure that’s what just happened. If the etched lines still creasing Quinn’s face were any indication, a binge eating session was probably about to follow.
At least she didn’t argue about him coming in after her. He set a three pack of mac and cheese on the belt. “I know you’re worried about going to your parents’, but it’s gonna be fine.”
When she didn’t tear her focus off her arsenal of coping supplies, Cooper leaned an arm into hers. “If you want to use Brayden as a diversion to keep the conversation off you, I won’t judge. I mean, it is almost as bad as using him as a chick magnet, but I’ll let it slide.”
The faintest smile graced her lips, but whatever tangle of thoughts were keeping her shoulders looking that tense clearly hadn’t released her yet.
As the pepper-haired woman behind the register ran each item past the scanner, Quinn stared at the magazine rack like she was silently rewriting the headlines on each cover.
Cooper glanced at Brayden, who’d already passed out. Way to have my back.
He wheeled the stroller around Quinn. “Listen,” he half whispered. “There’s no reason to be embarrassed about your roots. And you never know, things might’ve changed since you were last here.”
He ran his hand up and down the back of his hair when she still didn’t respond. Okay, complicated was obviously just the start of it. If she had the same caffeine headache he did right now, it’d be hard to blame her.
He withdrew his wallet when the cashier finished up checking them out. “How you doing, ma’am?”
“I’ll be more better as soon as my shift ends, honey.”
A twitch pulsed above Quinn’s eye. “I’m sorry, did you just say more—?”
“I bet it’s hard standing on your feet all day.” Cooper scooted Quinn to the side before her grammar twitch turned into convulsions.
“It was them beans and rice I ate at lunch.” The woman shifted on her feet and circled a hand around her stomach. “Ooh-wee, they sure enough went straight to my backside. Yes, they did.” She made a strained face the way Brayden did when he was about to pass gas.
Cooper paused with his Visa pulled halfway out of his wallet, mouth slack. Without moving a muscle, he cut a glance at Quinn.
Her blank expression transitioned from stunned to delirious. An airy laugh shook her shoulders, almost folding her in half the louder it grew. She swung a finger between the woman and him. “Things might’ve changed,” she squeaked out like he’d made the punch line of the year. She strode away with Brayden’s stroller, mumbling something about living in a walking cliché.
Cooper offered the cashier an apologetic smile and his credit card. “Long morning.”
“Don’t I know it, honey.”
All paid up, he pushed the cart full of Quinn’s nervous breakdown remedy over to the front of the store where the wall was holding her up.
She picked at the rubber coating on the stroller’s handles. A rueful expression tinged with sadness looked up at him when he approached. “She’s having his baby.”
He made a face. “The kid probably won’t even be cute, and it wasn’t like she was glowing or anything. Did you see how swollen her ankles were?”
Quinn gave in to a smile. “She did have kankles, didn’t she?”
“Hideous.”
She cracked up then, and the sound lit something off inside him.
Wiping her cheeks, she met his gaze again. “You’re kind of sweet, Cooper Anderson. A terrible liar, but sweet.” She dragged her fingers back and forth along the top of the stroller. “I’m sorry I didn’t warn you about all this.”
He raised a shoulder. “It’s none of my business.”
“I still should’ve told you.”
“I understand.”
She curled her bottom lip in, looking torn about whether to say more.
Cooper jutted his chin toward the exit. “Let’s get out of here. I’ll make you some coffee.”
“Does that come with a tall glass of wine?”
“I don’t know.” The corner of his mouth sloped sideways as they walked. “I wouldn’t want to interfere with all those peach cobblers you’re gonna make me.”
Wide-eyed and adorably appalled, Quinn gave him a solid shove across the lane. “You just wait. You have no idea what you’re walking into.”
Finally, something they could actually agree on.
Chapter Seven
Predicament
Days passing only intensified the dread building in Quinn’s stomach.
She snapped her laptop shut on the patio table and switched her cell phone to her opposite ear. “Chase, you can’t let me walk into an ambush at the cookout today. You know how Mom and Aunt Loraine are. You have to be there as a buffer for me.”
“I can’t just hop on a plane. I’m in the middle of a job. And from what I hear, you’re not going alone.”
Perfect. The news had already traveled across three states. Why was she not surprised? “Kill the singsong tone. It’s not what you think.”
“Littleton’s prodigal child coming home with an eligible beau at her side? Oh yeah, it’s exactly what I think—Mom’s dream come true.”
Cringing, Quinn dragged her cool orange juice glass along her forehead. “At least help me come up with an excuse to get out of going.”
Her brother’s obnoxious laugh cut right through her flimsy plea
. They both knew good and well there was no getting out of this. “It won’t be that bad. I’m sure Gramps will limit his inappropriate commentary to only half the day.” A string of laughter rolled through the line.
“I hate you right now, you know that?” She set her glass aside, hoisted her leg up in the patio chair, and dropped her head onto her knee. “Why am I even talking to you about this?”
“I’ve been asking myself that same question since you woke me up first thing this morning.”
“You’re impossible.”
“And you’re overreacting.” His tone shifted with the breeze fanning Quinn’s bangs across her lashes. “Relax. Mom’s just glad you’re home. It’s been too long, Quinn.”
He was right. Months had turned into years, just like the space she’d needed had turned into an excuse to hide. “I know.” But that didn’t make it any easier.
“Then live it up at the cookout for me, will ya? Never know, you might actually end up having fun.”
Or a coronary. “I’m hanging up now.” Man, he was almost as bad as Ava. Though, at least he’d answered his phone this morning. Quinn checked her cell for any missed messages. Still no returned call. Knowing Ava, she was still asleep after a lively evening last night. Like another someone she knew.
She glanced at the closed blinds on Cooper’s room. He’d gotten home long after she’d gone to bed, probably out on a real date—unlike the fake one she was dragging him on today.
Wait, this whole predicament was his fault. Well, sort of. Okay, fine, so she’d spun her own mess, but he didn’t have to go pouring gasoline on it by romping around as her pretend boyfriend.
Quinn reopened her laptop, stared at the single paragraph it’d taken almost an hour to write, and slumped in the chair. Who was she kidding? She was just as much of a fake.
Cruella wanted a briefing every day, but even after being here a week, Quinn still didn’t have anything substantial. She could only write so much fluff before her boss nailed her for not being able to cut it as a journalist. How was she supposed to prove she was equipped for the executive editor position if she couldn’t even master the tasks of the people she’d be overseeing?
She should probably stick to basic editing. She’d obviously lost her writing skills. Maybe she never even had any.
A skinny black cat jumped into her lap out of nowhere. Quinn froze with her arms hovering above her keyboard. If the cat sensed surprise, she didn’t let on. The little thing pawed around Quinn’s legs, rubbing her head up under her arms as she circled.
“Um, hi there. Where’d you come from?” Cooper owned a cat? She ran a cautious stroke along its back. But when the little purr box walked her two front paws up Quinn’s stomach and went to nuzzle her adorable wet nose under her chin, Quinn melted.
“Aren’t you just the cutest thing ever.” Bright green eyes, tuxedo markings, the tip of her right ear missing—she liked this cat already. “Scrappy, too, huh?”
Still purring, the cat made bread against Quinn’s stomach, which tightened without warning. If she was honest, she could use a friend here.
Not that Cooper was hard to live with. He was surprisingly kind of sweet, and his coffee wasn’t exactly terrible after all. Maybe this pretend relationship thing was a blessing in disguise.
“Couples talk, right?” she said aloud. “They share secrets and stuff.” Rubbing the cat’s head, she reclined against the chair back. “What do you think? Should we give it a shot?”
The cat launched off her lap onto the deck and scampered through the railing slats.
“Too much talking?” Quinn called after her. That was probably a bad sign. Stupid. It’d never work. What made her think she could do this?
Ava’s ringtone lit up her cell on the table. Quinn bumped into her laptop, stretching for it. “Finally,” Quinn said, skipping hellos. “I’ve been trying to reach you all morning.”
“Really? I had no idea. Your fifteen texts didn’t clue me in at all.”
“Yeah, well, this is an emergency. Cooper and I ran into my mom yesterday.”
Ava took a sip of something. Probably a caramel macchiato—the same cup of deliciousness she would be drinking right now if she weren’t in the sticks.
“Just tell her he’s Gil. She gets to put a face to your imaginary boyfriend. You get to keep her off your back for a little while longer. Problem solved.”
“No, you don’t understand. She’s having us over today. My mom, Ava. As in, the woman who’s at home right now, already planning our wedding. How am I supposed to keep Cooper from finding out I work for News First when she’s going to pounce on him with my entire life story the minute we walk through the door?”
“Here’s a thought. Why don’t you tell him the truth. Just lead with an Anderson Cooper joke. It’ll be awesome.”
A joke. Right. Her coffee obviously hadn’t kicked in yet. “I’m sorry, you do know our boss, right? The woman itching for an excuse to fire me? I can’t ruin this.”
Ava’s lack of response from the other end of the line pulsed with something she wasn’t saying.
“What now?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Ava.”
“Fine.” Her best friend sighed. “Remember Chad? That guy from Corporate I went on a few dates with? You’re not going to believe what he told me last night.” In classic Ava style, she stretched the dramatic pause.
Quinn’s grasp tightened around the phone. “If you don’t just spit it out, I’m gonna—”
“Cruella’s job is on the line this quarter!”
“What?”
“It’s about time, isn’t it? The woman can only strut around on her power trip for so long before someone puts her in her place.”
Quinn swirled her orange juice in the glass, a jumble of thoughts circling into each other. “You think she knows?”
“Doubt it. If she did, she might be thinking twice about letting people go just ’cause they have a single hair out of place.” Voice sobering, Ava sounded like she was tapping a fingernail to a desk. “This could be good for you, Quinn. Her plan in sending you out there could totally backfire on her.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The feature on Cooper. You don’t think Corporate’s going to take notice of you after this? And if Cruella’s position ends up being open . . .”
Editor-in-chief? She’d be lying if she didn’t admit she’d had her eye on that job since day one. The creative changes she could make, the chance to lead and honor the whole team—it was what she’d always hoped for.
Pressure expanded in her gut. What if she wasn’t ready for Corporate to look at her? What if failing to come through on this piece only proved that Cruella should stay and Quinn should be demoted, fired even? How could she face her family if that happened?
Her eyelids caved shut. She had to make this work. “I need more time.” She draped an arm over the top of her laptop. “Maybe if I tell Cooper—”
“Tell me what?” he asked while opening the sliding screen door.
Quinn swung her laptop shut so fast, two birds on the rail tore into the trees like a gunshot went off. “Gotta go,” she whispered into the phone before hanging up. Deep breath. She could handle the pressure. Just had to play it cool.
Carrying a plate of the breakfast she’d left in the kitchen, Cooper pushed Brayden’s umbrella stroller on his way across the deck in his pajama pants. Thankfully, he had a T-shirt on this time.
He parked the stroller beside the monitor Quinn had brought out with her and dropped into the opposite seat.
“You found the breakfast I left you,” she said.
“I saw the sticky note.” The corner of his mouth lifted in obvious amusement. But the minute he took a bite of his omelet, his warm smile sprawled across her with the morning’s sunshine. “You keep cooking like this, and I might not let you go.”
She looked from his playful eyes toward Brayden instead. “Going for a walk this morning?”
When a question arched his brow, she pointed to the stroller.
“Oh, nah. I just figured it’d be easier to bring him out here in that. Plus, he seems content in his car seat or stroller most of the time, so I thought it might keep him happy.”
Quinn scanned over Cooper’s messy bedhead, bulky arms, and aggravatingly cute dimples that dipped the slightest bit each time he chewed. Player turned father. Who would’ve pictured it? “Looks like you’re getting this parenting thing down pretty well.”
He paused with his fork halfway to his mouth, eyes dimming. “It takes more than a random observation to make a good parent.”
Setting his fork to his plate, Cooper seemed to ward off whatever was bothering him. “What is it you need to tell me?”
So much for sidetracking him. She pulled her leg up again and tucked her ankle under her thigh, but Ava’s nudge to tell him the truth kept weaseling in. “Uh, yeah, so, funny story. I’m actually kind of a writer.” There, she’d gotten it out. That was good enough, right?
Cooper looked at her like she’d just confessed something already written in blinking billboard lights. “Uh-huh.”
“You already knew?”
“Normal people don’t go around correcting people’s grammar.”
She stifled a laugh. “Writers aren’t normal?”
“They’re . . .” He looked from the acorns covering the deck to the moss-covered tree branches above them as though hoping the right adjective would drop into his lap. “Creative,” he finally said.
“Sounds like you’ve known a few.”
“Creatives? Wait till you meet my sister-in-law.” He linked his hands together over his head and stretched from side to side.
Quinn darted a glance from his flexed muscles back to Brayden, already drifting off to sleep, and took a sip of her orange juice.
“So, you’re writing a story about me?”
Juice sprayed down her chin. In a scramble to wipe it off without looking like a lunatic, she tapped her chest and coughed. “Sorry, I think a gnat got in my drink or something.”
Just Maybe (Home In You Book 3) Page 6