Trouble
With Quinn there through the night, Cooper had slept for the first time in a couple of days. Not that it’d made much difference.
Fifty feet from his house, he cut his WaveRunner’s engine and gripped the tops of his thighs. Being on the lake wasn’t the same as surfing the ocean. But after the week he’d been having, he needed the water this morning. Needed the rush of flying against the wind, the freedom of cutting ties from the shore.
Sunlight clung to his back and dried each streak of water running down his hot skin. Other than an occasional striped bass popping up or an osprey whistling in the distance, stillness surrounded him. His WaveRunner rocked in the breeze, his thoughts rippling. He sat back, forked his fingers through his wet hair, and scrubbed a hand down his face.
A son? How could Megan keep this from him? Maybe that summer in Ocracoke was just a fling to her—a temporary escape from everyday life. He got that. He’d encountered the same mentality every summer since he was born. But to walk away with something more and never tell him? She could’ve tracked him down, could’ve—
His neighbor’s lab barked from their dock where Mike and his seven-year-old son were pulling up a crab pot together. Excitement from bonding with his dad ran across the kid’s face as it did most mornings.
The tighter Cooper grasped the handle bars, the more the image gripped him with the answer to his own questions. He couldn’t blame Megan for protecting her son. She knew better than to seek out a father who didn’t know how to be one.
His heart winced. Would taking Brayden with him prove her wrong? He closed his eyes under the sun and shook his head. Yeah, and offer him what? A capricious life overseas that’d keep Cooper away from home half the time? A reckless dad making every mistake known to man, trying to raise him on his own? Nights of nearly being run off the road by reporters?
He may not like Mitch’s insinuations about his interests, but the man was right about the demands and risks in his life. With or without a start-up business overseas, that wouldn’t change. Brayden deserved more than a single parent tossing money to a caregiver to make up for the time and parenting he couldn’t give him.
The ache of regrets coiled into his side—the mistakes he’d made, the life he’d been living. He released a hard exhale and the naiveté of thinking things could be different.
Fragments from the night Dad died blurred into flashes from his latest run-in with the media and solidified his decision. He’d never be able to provide a son with the kind of upbringing his father had given him, but finding Brayden a good family was the closest he could come to the sacrificial love Dad had lived every day.
Drowning his doubts, he turned the ignition and jetted the rest of the way to his dock. Megan did the right thing for her son, and now it was his turn to do the same.
The sun-heated planks warmed the soles of his feet as he toweled off. He slipped on his flip-flops and snagged his cell from the bench as it rang.
Barry Jedson. Just what he needed to deal with right now—damage control with an overreactive client.
Cooper whipped the towel over his bare shoulder. “Barry, my man, how we doing this morning?”
“How we doing? One of us is staring at my stock dashboard, trying not to lose his breakfast. Why don’t you tell me what the other of us is doing? And please tell me it involves recouping the money I just lost.”
Cooper craned his head to the sky while trekking up the yard to his back deck. “Forecasts are always going to fall after a major recall announcement. You have to expect a hit to the market, but now’s not the time to pull out.” He slid open the screen door. “Trust me on this. I’m watching your portfolio. Your investments are going to be fine.”
“But what about—?”
“Have I ever steered you wrong?” He stood over the threshold and pinched his forehead. Coffee. He needed a cup. Or twenty.
A scent he couldn’t place wafted from inside—something almost honey-like. He peered around, listened. Instead of baby cries, a soft hum blended into the sounds of someone stirring in the kitchen.
Barry must’ve rambled off at least a page worth of sentences, but Cooper didn’t hear a one. “Have a drink with your wife today, Barry. Everything’s going to work out.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. I’ll be in touch.” Cooper ended the call before another unwarranted question could sneak through. A few tentative steps brought him to the center of the living room. The aroma grew stronger, the humming transitioning to lyrics. It almost sounded like . . . Yep, she was definitely singing Boyz II Men.
He might’ve been able to hold in a laugh if the view around the open doorway left him half a chance. Waving an oven mitt in one hand and a muffin tray in the other, Quinn swayed to the music coming through her earbuds.
His gaze bounced from her to the baby monitor on the counter and on to a series of pink sticky notes attached to every drawer and cabinet in his kitchen. Wow. He’d seen a lot of clashing images in his time, but this one might’ve topped them all.
Midway through the song, she spun around and gasped. The pan hit the floor, muffins rolling across the tiles. “Jeez.” She yanked her earbuds out and curled a wayward strand of brown hair around her ear. “Sorry, I was just, um . . .”
“Having a dance party in the middle of my kitchen?”
A rosy hue set off the flour smudges on her cheeks. The girl was cute. He’d give her that.
She ran her white Converse sneaker along her calf beneath her capris’ cuff. “Thinking,” she offered instead. “I mean, baking. Well, both, actually. One usually helps the other. The music was just kind of a break.” She shut her eyes and mumbled, “Like the one I should be giving my mouth right now.”
Cooper leaned an arm into the jamb and bit back a grin. Definitely cute.
The second she caught him smiling, she looked away and dropped to her knees to gather the runaway muffins.
“I didn’t mean to startle you.” He joined her on the tiles. “If it makes you feel better, you were dancing pretty good.”
“Well.”
“I’m sorry?”
“It’s dancing well, not good.” She put the muffin he handed her back into the tray without looking up from the floor. “And don’t worry about the muffins. There should be plenty. I made two dozen earlier.”
While adding another dozen reasons Cooper could barely hide his amusement. Did she really just correct his grammar?
When she still didn’t so much as blink in his direction, Cooper tilted his head under hers. “Something wrong?”
“No.” She rose to her feet, cradled the pan to her chest, and sent her gaze flitting across every corner of the kitchen as though scouring for an exit. “You have something against shirts?”
That’s what had her all flustered? He glanced at his bare chest as he rose. “I was out on the water. Thinking.” His lips quirked. “Guess you could say one usually helps the other.”
Quinn met him head-on then. With a glint in her amber eyes that he’d probably just provoked, she set the pan down and crossed her slender arms. “I don’t blame you. It’s hard to think in here with everything disorganized. You’re kind of a mess.”
Cute, geeky, and brazen. He ran his tongue along the corner of his mouth. “Getting ready to move has a way of doing that.” She didn’t need to know the place would be a wreck regardless. “Guess it doesn’t matter since I see you’ve remedied that for me.”
“Just trying to get my bearings. Hope you don’t mind.”
For three weeks? He’d deal. “Don’t mind at all.”
She tossed the muffins in the trash and ran the tray under the faucet. “So, where are you guys moving to?”
“You guys?”
“You and Brayden.” Loose strands of hair fell from a messy bun as she peered up from the sink.
“Uh, yeah, it’s just me.” He backed against the counter and retied the strings on his board shorts. “I’m heading on a cross-country trip July Fourth weekend. Once I make it to LA, I’m catching a one-way ticket to Indonesia.”
The pan clattered into the sink. She spun around, hands covered in suds. “Indonesia?”
“It has some of the best waves on the planet.”
Shock dissolved behind a telling look that said she had him all figured out. “You’re moving across the world to surf?”
“To open a boat shop. It’s something I need to do.” Why was he telling her this? He let go of the strings, grabbed one of the good muffins from a platter, and slanted a brow. “And the view’s not half bad.” He expected her to get the implication. If she was so sure she already had him pegged, he’d play the part.
Hopefully, she did a better job at baking than she did attempting to keep a blank face.
“Seems like the view here suits you just fine.” She dried off her hands and motioned to the only two sticky notes without capital letters labeling a compartment.
He peeled them off the counter to find phone messages from two girls he’d gone on dates with last week. Nothing like playing right into her hand.
“I’m not trying to be your personal assistant or anything. I just didn’t want the phone to wake up Brayden.”
Cooper set the notes aside and looked from the baby monitor back to Quinn’s fiery, flour-coated cheeks. “Sorry about that. I don’t give out my cell number to women.” He’d barely finished his sentence before his cell rang like a gavel she probably assumed was proving him a liar. Perfect. He turned and answered. “Anderson. Talk to me.”
“Cooper, it’s Ray. We have a new potential buyer interested in the house. A well-established couple—highly motivated, already pre-approved. I have a good feeling about this one.”
About time. It’d taken months after the first contract on the house had fallen through to find another qualified buyer. He couldn’t afford for this to end in anything but a quick sale. They were cutting it too close to his move-out date. “When do we settle?”
With his usual patronizing laugh, Ray fit right in with half the businessmen Cooper’d worked with through the years. “Easy, cowboy. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. There are negotiations to be made.”
Of course there were. Cooper clenched the muffin. “Such as?”
“The couple’s asking for a new pier.”
“What’s wrong with the one that’s here?”
Even the guy’s pauses could be patronizing. “You know how these things go. They look at other houses in the area. Comparisons are made. You can’t blame people for wanting the best. Am I right?”
When Cooper didn’t bite, Ray switched gears. “We’re not talking major reconstruction here. Just a little upgrade. Maybe, say, switching those worn pine boards for red cedar. That’s all.”
Sure that was all. “And what about my negotiations?”
“It’s a buyer’s market, kid. You want a quick sale? You agree to terms.”
Cooper glanced at Quinn, busying herself with the rest of the dishes. He set the muffin down. “You know what? Fine. Done. I’ll repair the deck.”
Dollar signs from Ray’s expected commission hung on the tail of an audible smile. “I’ll make the call.”
After pocketing his phone, Cooper gripped the edge of the counter with both hands and leaned into it. Money wasn’t a problem, but he’d rather do the work himself. At this point, he could use the distraction. It might even be therapeutic.
Right beside him, Quinn gently touched his hand. “I’m fairly certain it’s not the countertop’s fault.”
White skin on his knuckles beamed up at him. He let go. “Sorry, it’s—”
“Not my business.”
True. None of it was. Why was he trying to defend himself anyway? He opened a cabinet labeled MUGS and withdrew his favorite Tar Heels one. That coffee was way too many phone calls overdue.
Still beside him, Quinn peeled a liner off a muffin, one side at a time. “I know I just finished saying it’s none of my business, but I am kind of curious why you have to leave in three weeks. I realize your plans are already set, and believe me, I know how that goes. But it seems like staying longer might take some stress off.”
He hung his head, sighed. “It’s not an option.” He couldn’t let Dad down again. Not this time. As hard as it’d be, he had to secure a stable home for Brayden before the Fourth.
“O-kay,” she dragged out the word. “Business deal gone bad?”
He faced her. “What makes you say that?”
“It’s kind of hard to live in Hatteras without hearing about the fallout with Shore Corp Investments.”
He cocked a brow. “You’re from Hatteras?” Why didn’t she say anything about it yesterday?
She diverted her attention to the muffin she was dismantling piece by tiny piece. “I’ve lived there for four years.”
And was clearly hiding something about it. He tipped his head to read her eyes. “What brought you to Lake Gaston?”
Cornered, she backed up. A frazzled look scrunched her forehead but only for a moment. Replacing it, a seemingly satisfied grin made a slow climb to the left. “The view.”
Oh, this one was trouble, all right. He liked her already.
Her cell buzzed on the counter. She snatched it, shoved it into her pocket like contraband, and dodged his gaze again. “Coffee,” she blurted out. “You wanted some coffee, right?”
Not as bad as she obviously wanted a diversion. He’d play along. For now.
“There’s a canister in the cabinet above the microwave. But you probably already know that, given you’ve dissected my entire kitchen.”
“Actually, it’s over here now.” She motioned to a cabinet two over from the sink. “It makes more sense to keep it here. You’ll thank me later, and sorry, but that’s not coffee.”
She had to be kidding. He retrieved the canister, opened it, and inhaled. A rich, nutty aroma met him like a therapist. “Italian roast. This stuff is amazing. My sister-in-law got me hooked on it last summer.” He smiled at Ti’s new designation. Drew was a lucky guy.
Quinn sent a skeptical appraisal over the clear canister.
“Let me guess.” Cooper closed the lid. “You’re looking for some venti whip frou-frou thing.”
She didn’t deny it.
A city girl out of her element. He could have fun with this one. “I’ll tell you what. There’s a café up the road. If I nail your order, you have to answer my earlier question.”
“What are we? Ten?”
“You don’t strike me as the type to back down.”
“I’m not.” Shoulders squared, mouth tight—he had her now.
Her cell buzzed in her pocket again. She strained to pretend she didn’t notice.
“You gonna answer that?”
“Nope.” She pulled a pencil out of her dark hair and grabbed her purse from the table.
“Going to replenish your sticky note supply?”
The stiff smile she sent him wrinkled the freckles on her nose. “We’re going to get coffee. And I’m buying.”
Of course she was. He could certainly add stubborn to her list of endearing traits.
He cocked his chin. “We can take my bike.”
A simpering laugh shifted her demeanor. “Might be kind of hard to strap a car seat to a motorcycle.”
Brayden. How could he forget he was here so easily? Sure, Social Services had dropped the boy off at his house only two days ago, but still. A pang quaked through him. What had Megan been thinking, leaving Brayden to him? Even a stranger could see he wasn’t cut out to be his dad.
Quinn seemed to be trying to interpret his thoughts.
He crammed them aside before she saw things she shouldn’t and hooked a thumb behind him. “We can take the Audi instead. I’ll just go . . .” He fought a grin. “Grab a shirt.”
“Make sure it’s big enough to fit over that inflated head of yours,” she mumbled once she probably thought he was out of earshot.
He wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d launched one of those muffins at him next.
He laughed on his way to his room. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who liked a challenge. From the sounds of it, he wasn’t alone in keeping secrets either.