“Sorry, not today. Had to practice for my event tomorrow. But, again. Grandma. I’m sure she’ll have a treat or two for you, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, prob’ly.”
A few minutes later, they pulled into their driveway. Once out of the car, Kelly intercepted Coop before he zoomed to the apartment, grabbing his shoulders and bending to look him in the eye. As much as she could, anyway, through end-of-the-day smudges on his lenses. “Have I told you recently how proud I am of you?”
His eyebrows pushed slightly together. “Proud? How come?”
Smiling, she smoothed back his curls, relishing this small act that would probably get axed from the “acceptable” list before much longer. “Because you’re one of the bravest people I know. And trust me on this—you and Aislin absolutely come first in my life. I will never do anything without considering how it would affect you guys. Got that?”
The corners of what used to be the most adorable cupid mouth curved up. “Yeah.”
“I love you so much, pookie.”
“I love you, too, Mom. Except...” He made the “stinky face” that had cracked her up ever since he was a baby.
“Right, sorry, I forgot. But I still get to do this,” Kelly said, messing with his curls, which got a heavy sigh—and a real smile, this time—before he took off for the apartment.
She straightened, feeling the chilly breeze ruffle her own hair like an angel’s caress. Her gaze shot to Matt’s living room window but all she saw was the sun’s glare bouncing off the glass. And her disappointment was so sharp that he wasn’t there, wasn’t watching her, it stole her breath.
The thing was, she wasn’t in denial. She knew what she wanted. Or, in this case, who. Wanted so badly, in fact, the thought of not allowing herself to have it—him—was making her crazier than she already was. It’d been two years—well, closer to two and a half years, come to think of it—since she’d had sex. And she’d honestly thought she hadn’t missed it. Then again, when there’s no one around you want to have sex with, what’s to miss?
Sighing, Kelly finally followed her son inside, where Lynn, bless her heart, was happily herding her grandbabies. She’d already pulled together a bag of things for Linnie, was now directing Coop to do the same. Ten minutes later, they were gone, leaving Kelly alone with her thoughts, roughly five million hors d’oeuvres and a libido on speed.
Outside, she heard the Explorer pull into the driveway, Matt’s rich laugh as Alf apparently chased a bird with the audacity to land in the front yard, and her heart went whompa-whompa-whompa. And she realized what she missed wasn’t sex, per se. What she missed—craved—was intimacy. Connection. Being open and honest and bare—in every sense of the word—with another human being.
The kind of connection she’d finally admitted, God knows how long ago, she’d never really had with her husband, even in the early days when she’d loved him with all her heart. And which she now realized, with a breath-stealing whoosh of revelation—as in, damned if the room didn’t suddenly seem brighter—she deserved.
Just like Lynn had said.
Just like she had said to Matt.
Overhead, Kelly heard Matt’s muffled footfalls, the dog’s galumphing. Imagined she heard him talking stupid to the dog, saw his grin. Her pulse throbbing, she looked over at all those goodies, snugly nestled in assorted plastic containers, and reminded herself—sternly—she was in charge of her own destiny. More than she’d ever been, actually. That it was up to her right now whether to indulge this new, scary, reckless side of herself or play it safe.
Except... Her entire life she’d opted for safe, and where had that gotten her?
Exactly nowhere, she thought, and pulled her cell phone from her pocket.
Chapter Nine
He should’ve known Grandma would rat him out to Mom, Cooper thought later, after Grandma had taken him and Linnie down to the duck pond near her apartment. And yeah, he was still pretty ticked about that. Although it was his own dumb fault for saying anything in the first place.
Hard as he could, he threw a piece of stale bread, and the ducks—at least twenty, maybe—zoomed across the pond like they hadn’t eaten in forever. It almost felt like spring, sunny and not nearly as cold as it had been. He could even hear a robin singing somewhere. Laughing, Linnie clapped, then held out her chubby little starfish hand.
“My turn!”
Must be nice, being too little to really understand what was going on. Or care, anyway. Coop handed over a piece of bread and Linnie took off toward the water, calling to the ducks.
“Linnie, stop!” he yelled. “You’ll fall in!”
She turned, her mouth pushed down at the corners. “But I can’t throw that far! The ducks won’t get it!”
“Look!” Grandma said, pointing and laughing.
The baby whipped around, then let out a shriek. Because the ducks had climbed out of the pond and were waddling right toward her, quacking like crazy.
“No, ducks! No!” She backed away, holding the bread over her head as the ducks crowded her, quacking louder and louder. “Go away! Coop! Help! They’re gonna eat me!”
“No, they’re not, honey,” Grandma said, still laughing. “Cooper, go help your sister.”
Ducks streaked every which way as he ran over, then picked her up, grunting. Man, she was getting big. Almost too big for him to hold, which made him a little sad. Then he had this sort of foggy memory, of being in Dad’s arms. When he was little, before everything got all messed up. At the zoo, maybe? He couldn’t remember. But the back of his throat got real scratchy.
“It’s okay,” he said, swallowing. “Just rip the bread in little chunks and throw it to them.”
After a moment, Aislin started pinching off itty-bitty pieces and dropping them one by one on the ground, giggling when the noisy ducks bunched around them, their pointy little tails twitching. Then she suddenly said, “Daddy’s dead, huh?” and Coop nearly dropped her.
“Yeah. He is.” He hiked her up in his arms, frowning at the side of her face. “Do you know what that means?”
“Mama said it means he’s someplace we can’t see him,” she said, pinching off another piece of bread. “And that he’s not coming back. Because he can’t.” She got quiet for a moment, then pointed to a duck with a green head, all shimmery in the sun. “He’s pretty. Can I get down now?”
“You sure?”
“You won’t let them hurt me?”
Coop had no idea how little kids’ brains worked, but was it strange that Linnie seemed more worried about the ducks than Dad being dead? Then again, maybe it was better that way. “’Course not,” he said. “Anyway, they’re only ducks.”
“I know that,” she said, all huffy—like she hadn’t screamed for him to come save her five seconds ago—then squirmed out of his arms to finish feeding them her slice of bread. Then Coop felt Grandma’s arm slip around his shoulders.
“Your dad would be so proud of you,” she said, and now the scratchy feeling turned into a pinchy one, only this time inside his chest. For a moment, he wanted to tell Grandma—heck, to tell somebody, anybody—what he was feeling. Except how could he? Because everybody had enough to worry about without him making things worse, right?
So Coop sorta smiled up at Grandma, then walked down to the water, where nobody could see how hard he was trying not to cry. Because even though his life wasn’t bad anymore, he wanted things to be better. No, more than better. Good. Like, happy good. Even if he wasn’t sure what that was supposed to be.
Although, apparently, neither did the grown-ups.
Which was the saddest thing of all.
* * *
Matt had no idea—when Kelly called an hour ago to say she’d made way too many appetizers, would he like to share?—why he’d suggested she bring them to his place. Okay, that wa
sn’t entirely true, he wanted her to come here because he wanted her in his bed. On the very off chance that was how the evening played out.
Of course, if it didn’t, that was okay, too. Still, he could have sworn he’d heard a maybe in her voice. Or, more likely, in his own head.
But really, he was cool with whatever happened.
Or didn’t.
Then he’d looked around his apartment and realized that, fixed up though the place now was, it definitely looked like a bachelor lived here. Not that Matt was slovenly—all rooms with plumbing met his mother’s standards, mostly, and he didn’t dare leave out takeout boxes or the dog would have a field day—but aside from that, the decor ran to dust bunnies and fur. And while he regularly did his laundry, actually putting it away was not high on his list.
And he’d had to change his sheets.
Also, make a run to the drugstore. Since he didn’t exactly have a condom dispenser in his bedroom.
So his heart was racing from his racing when he—and Alf—answered the doorbell...until his brain registered what his eyes saw and that heart took a pratfall.
“Wow,” he said, grateful to get that much out, as the dog, sensing food, obediently sat, and Kelly blushed. And it wasn’t like she looked ready for the red carpet or anything, but compared with her usual wild-haired, makeupless, slightly frazzled look, this was...
Wow.
Yeah, she was wearing jeans, but these fit. Like, really fit. And over them, a sorta frilly white top that hinted at cleavage. And over that, a soft, floaty, light green sweater that reminded him of spring. As in soft breezes and sunshine and lying in the grass and looking up at the clouds. And kissing. He also had no idea what she’d done to her hair, but the curls actually glittered in the pot lights’ soft glow. She’d darkened her lashes, too. And put on lip stuff.
Huh. Maybe maybe was looking more promising?
Matt took the plastic-wrapped tray of finger food, stood aside to let her in. Got a whiff of something delicate. Floral. Hopeful.
“You smell good,” he said, and she laughed.
“Kids were gone, I decided to take a bubble bath.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“What it was was glorious. A gift from Lynn ages ago, first chance I’ve had to use it. And I really like that wall color.”
“Um...thanks.”
Alf sticking close—to fend off any random marauding hordes, most likely—Matt carted the tray to the dining table, setting it beside the bottle of wine he’d scored while he was out getting the, um, other things. A move that at least gave him a chance to breathe.
“Wasn’t sure what you were bringing,” he said, uncorking the wine, “so I hope red’s okay...?”
“What? Oh. Sure. Red’s fine.”
Bottle in hand, he turned. Caught Kelly staring really hard at a framed watercolor Ethan’s oldest had done when she was six—which looked exactly like you’d expect a first-grader’s painting to look—as she twirled a curl around her index finger. Hell, he could practically hear her heartbeat from here.
And he sighed.
“Hey.” Frozen in midtwist, she met his gaze. “What’s going on?” he asked softly.
“What makes you think...?”
“You’re wearing lipstick,” he said, and she snorted. Only to drop onto his leather sofa, hand extended.
“Wine. Now.”
Matt poured half a glass, carried it to her. Watched, bemused, as she sucked it down in three gulps. “You don’t normally drink, do you?”
She shook her head. Then, on a soft “Whoa,” shut her eyes. “And this is why, because I’ve got the alcohol tolerance of a gnat.” Eyes still closed, she sighed. “But then, I don’t normally do this, either.”
“Come on to your landlord?”
“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Only if that’s what you’re really doing.” When Kelly snorted again, Matt pried the glass from her stranglehold, carried it back to the table. “But I’m cutting you off.”
One eye opened. “And why would you do that?”
“Because I’d kinda like you to enjoy this, too.”
“Oh.” Then she covered her face with her hands and mumbled, “I have no idea what I’m doing.”
Matt sat beside her, tugged her hands away. Offered the plate. “Eat.”
“I’m not—”
“You’re swaying. Eat.”
“Am not....” She dropped her hands, only to grab the sofa arm. “Okay, maybe a little.”
He waited until she made her selection—although since she wasn’t looking at the plate, selecting was pushing it—then chose one for himself. Chicken in some puffy biscuit...thing. With a kick to it that surprised him. After a minute or so of silent munching—on both their parts—Matt sat forward to sip from his own glass, then asked, very softly, “Why?”
There was a weighty pause, then she said, “Because the alternative sucked?”
He looked at her over his shoulder. “The alternative being...?”
“Letting fear keep making choices for me.”
Matt offered one of the appetizers to the dog, who delicately took it, giving him a strange look before carrying it to the other end of the room, where he’d undoubtedly find the mangled remains the next day. Then he reached for Kelly’s hand, holding it between both of his. Yep, cold as ice. “But you’re still scared.”
Her sharp laugh pinged around the room. “You might say.”
Gently chafing her frigid hands in his own, Matt asked, “Got any idea why?”
“Because it’s been more than two years since I’ve had sex? Because my husband was my one and only...?”
“You’re kidding?”
That got a sharp look. “Yes, Matt, I was a virgin until the ripe old age of twenty-one. Is this a problem?”
Matt shook his head. “Nope—”
“And I don’t want to hurt you.”
His brows flew up. “Me? What on earth...?”
“I can’t promise anything past...” Her eyes got all watery. “Past right now.”
“And I don’t expect you to,” he said gently, thinking Damn. Because, you know. Hope.
He strangled a sigh. “Honey, people...mess around all the time without a commitment—”
“People, yes,” Kelly said, popping up. “Me, no. Which you yourself pointed out, if you recall. So all this feels—” she made a circling motion with her hand “—slightly...wobbly.”
Matt stood, as well. “I’m thinking that’s the wine.”
Hugging herself, she gave a hiccupy kind of laugh. And a voice said, For God’s sake, do something! So he tugged her close, and she sniffed a little, and sighed.
She threaded her arms around his waist and hugged him back and whispered, “You deserve so much more than I can give.”
“And if I’m okay with that?” he heard himself say, and she reared back to look into his eyes.
“You’re sure? I mean, absolutely, positively sure? Because—”
“Of what I said to Coop? Yes, I knew you were there listening.”
On a sigh, she pressed her forehead to his chest again and nodded, her hair tickling his chin.
He lifted her head again to cup her jaw in both hands, watching her pulse tick at the base of her throat. “The whole reason I said what I did to Coop is because I care about you. All of you, sure. But especially you.” He paused. “Same as ever. So if you’re having second thoughts, that’s okay. I’ll be extremely disappointed—” that got a little smile “—but it’s entirely your call.”
“Why?” she said, her eyes searching his. “Why me?”
The same question she’d asked before, he realized. The same disbelieving look in her eyes, which pissed him off. “Because you’re brave an
d funny and sexy even when you look like crap—” a startled laugh burst out of her throat “—and most of all, because you’re a straight shooter. And that’s the thing, see—as long as you’re honest with me, I’m good. Whatever happens, or doesn’t...don’t pretend.”
After a moment, a small smile curved her mouth. “I’d never do that to you, Matt. I promise.”
“Then I don’t see a problem.”
“Yeah, well, I do,” she said, and his heart sank...until he realized she was yanking his shirttail out of his jeans. And that her glasses were...somewhere else. “Because we’re both wearing way too many clothes.” She laughed. Nervously. “And you should see your face right now....”
A breath later Matt plunged his hands through all those magnificent curls and claimed her mouth, and she melted, making little purring sounds in her throat, and he sank into a kiss so wet and deep and crazy he never wanted to find his way out.
But he did—somehow—and backed up to smile into that beautiful, bewildered, unfocused gaze.
“One more promise,” he said, and she looked like she might smack him. “Whatever baggage either of us has? Goes no further than the bedroom door.”
“Done,” she said, and he literally swept her off her feet, just to hear her laugh.
* * *
Okay, so she might have been a trifle overconfident about ditching the baggage, Kelly thought as Matt kicked shut the bedroom door—
“Dog sleeps on the bed with me, could get awkward.”
Or at least, all the baggage—
Light went on by the bed. Not doing this in the dark. Got it.
Because, the heat and tingles and gasps aside, Matt would be only the second man to see her naked. To touch her where only one other man had touched. Slightly terrifying prospect, that. Exhilarating, yes. But terrifying.
He tugged her to sit beside him on the already turned-down bed. Tans and browns, all male. And smelling of Tide, she thought, smiling—
“You’re doing it again,” he whispered, scraping his whiskered chin along—oh!—her jawline as he rolled her cardigan off her shoulders, down her arms...
The Real Mr. Right Page 15