Fragile
In the kitchen, Quinn’s mom looked up at Cooper from the open oven and brushed back wisps of dyed hair curling above her forehead. “There you are. I hope you came hungry. Lunch will be ready quicker than two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”
She angled her head at him when she must’ve caught the expression he’d meant to leave outside. “Everything all right, honey?”
Cooper set the cobblers Quinn had made on the table. “Just fine.” At least, they would be. Wouldn’t they? He straightened a place mat under one of the dishes and stared at the tinfoil to keep from meeting Mrs. Thompson’s intuitive stare.
“Well, okay, then. You just make yourself at home. Quinn should be along in a minute.” With oven mitts up both arms, she carried some type of casserole dish to the back door.
Cooper opened it for her, and she replied with an appreciative nod.
“You know,” she said. “If everything weren’t okay, this meal would be sure to remedy that.”
He returned her warm smile. “I’m sure it would.”
A man Cooper assumed to be Quinn’s grandpa passed her mom as she made her way down some rickety back steps. He stopped right in front of Cooper in the doorway, a grin of missing teeth less than a very uncomfortable inch away from him.
Cooper looked in every direction but right at him. “Hi. I’m Cooper Anderson, Quinn’s date.”
“I know who you are, son.” He set a hand on his shoulder and kept his face right in front of Cooper’s till he had no choice but to look him in the eye. No words, Grandpa simply stared, all while continuing to showcase a moonshine-ridden smile.
Cooper tried not to breathe directly in his face. Darting his gaze to the floor might’ve helped if it didn’t intersect with Grandpa’s unzipped fly. He shot a glance up to the ceiling instead and scratched his cheek. “Does it feel kind of drafty in here to you? Or is it just me?”
A glazed-over look kept beaming his way.
The screen door whined open again, freeing them from the more-than-awkward pose they were stuck in. Another guy—probably a year or two behind Cooper—wedged between them and clapped the old man on the shoulder. “Your fly’s down, Gramps.” He flicked his chin at Cooper while continuing his trek into the kitchen.
At the fridge, he ducked inside, withdrew two brews, and offered one to Cooper. A cold one had never looked better. He clanked his bottle with Cooper’s. “You look like you could wet your whistle.”
“Um, thanks. And you are . . . ?”
“Chase?” Quinn said from behind him.
They both turned toward her, standing at the edge of the kitchen and the hallway. A sunray streamed through the window onto an expression bright enough to light up the whole room.
She raced over and flung her arms around Chase’s neck. “What are you doing here? I thought you said you couldn’t make it.”
“When your crazy sister screams SOS, what’s a guy to do?”
Quinn jabbed him in the chest as she lowered her feet back to the floor. “Doofus.”
“Just looking out for you, Drama Queen.”
When Cooper cocked his head, Chase clapped him on the back and flaunted a grin that made it clear he enjoyed baiting Quinn as much as Cooper did. “You’ll learn soon enough.”
On his heels, Quinn practically kicked him through the door.
Cooper was about to follow when her grandpa wheezed a laugh from the other side of the kitchen. He pointed a finger in the air at him. “Drafty.” He slapped his thigh and let out another raspy laugh.
Cooper tipped his brew at him. Better late than never.
Outside, he walked right into an argument between Loraine and a teenage girl in the corner of the yard.
“If you’re making me be here, at least you can let me invite Clay over.”
Loraine transferred Brayden to her opposite hip. “Sweetie, I doubt your boyfriend wants to help plan your sweet sixteen party. Besides, this is family time.”
The girl texted on her cell. “Whatever,” she huffed.
Loraine shook her head at the sky and prodded the girl toward the rest of the group.
One glance up from her phone, and the girl’s already rigid expression turned lethal. “What’s she doing here?”
Quinn’s hopeful smile shattered.
Loraine shifted almost as uncomfortably as Quinn did. “Ginny, baby, your cousin Quinn’s home for a visit. Just in time to help plan your party. Isn’t that nice? It’ll be like old times.”
Ginny snorted. “Super. Then she can turn around and leave without telling anyone.” She shot a glare at Quinn. “Like old times, right?”
“Virginia Anne!” Loraine’s face turned a shade darker than the checkered tablecloth.
Ginny scoffed while stalking toward the picnic table, tapping away on her cell again.
Frustration blended into the embarrassment flooding Loraine’s eyes. “I swear that girl could start an argument in an empty house if she had a mind to.” She handed Brayden off to Quinn’s mom. “Excuse me.”
Silence added to the tension already clinging to the thick humidity.
Time to intervene. Cooper curved an arm around Quinn’s back. “You were right about your daughter’s cobblers,” he said to Mrs. Thompson. “Quinn’s an amazing baker.”
Her mom ran with the diversion. “Just wait till you taste her custard. Quinn, sugar, have you made any meringue for him yet?”
Though Quinn narrowed her eyes at him, the way she’d leaned into his side a moment ago let him know she was as grateful for the distraction as her mom seemed to be.
While everyone headed to the picnic table, a salt-and-pepper-haired man came out of a barn in the back corner of the property, wiping his hands on a rust-colored rag.
Mrs. Thompson settled Brayden in an old wooden high chair, pulled her apron off, and set it on the table before starting for him. “George, honey, look who’s here.” At his side, she looped an arm around his and steered him toward Quinn. “Our baby girl came home.”
Quinn’s expression warmed the way it had when she saw Chase. She curled her arms around his broad back. “Hi, Daddy.”
“It’s Quinn, dear.” The noticeable waver in Mrs. Thompson’s voice reached her eyes when her husband’s only response was a vacant stare. “Our little girl’s home for a visit. You remember—”
“It’s okay, Mama.” Quinn stepped out of an unreturned hug. Sorrow tore down her face, tugging Cooper’s heart with it.
The back door squeaked open again, and Quinn’s grandpa stumbled out with whipped cream layered in his wiry mustache. “Those darn raccoons got into the dessert again.”
Everyone failed to hold in their laughter, thankful for levity.
Another woman, who Mrs. Thompson introduced as Nurse Murphy, joined them a few minutes later, carrying a handful of dishes of her own to add to the spread.
Chase brought over the rest of the meat from the grill while everyone else took their seats on the picnic benches. Like most southern meals, the food was rich, filling, and perfect.
Despite the few times Quinn whispered that she was about to crawl under the table to hide, she carried most of the conversation about Ginny’s party like a hired event planner. She already had the baking part down. Somehow, Cooper wasn’t the least bit surprised she’d be a pro at managing the rest of the details while dodging the ice spears Ginny kept shooting across the table with her eyes.
Quinn had skills and chops. No doubt about that. But she had holes in her armor like everyone else.
Cooper lowered his glass of sweet tea. “Ginny, why don’t you come over to the lake house this week. We’ll take you out on the water.”
Quinn kicked his shin under the table.
“Really?” A spread of braces shined in the sunlight.
“Sure. It’ll be fun. While you’re there, you and Quinn can talk about which band you want to have play at the party.”
Slower at downplaying her excitement than she probably wanted, Ginny strained to school her expression. “Yeah, okay. I guess I can fit it in sometime.”
“Great.” He flaunted a celebratory bite of pecan pie in Quinn’s direction.
She shook her head and took her own bite but couldn’t stifle a grin.
“Does anyone want seconds?” Quinn’s dad said with an open and somewhat distant gaze traveling around the table.
Everyone shook their heads.
“I’m full as a tick.” Loraine sat back and patted her stomach. “But I bet this munchkin wouldn’t mind a little something as sweet as he is.” She wiped up a drip of watermelon juice running down Brayden’s chin. “Isn’t this precious baby just a gift from God? Handing you a family like this, it’s amazing, Quinn.”
Whipped cream from the pie practically sprayed from Quinn’s mouth. She swiped a napkin and coughed so hard her face turned red.
Loraine set her fork of watermelon down. “My, child, are you all right?”
Chase stretched across the table. “Aunt Loraine, did I show you my pictures from a recent trip to Oklahoma? They had hail the size of baseballs.” As he redirected Loraine’s focus to the images on his phone, he cast a subtle wink at Quinn.
“Thank you,” she mouthed.
“Would anyone like seconds?” her dad asked again.
Everyone’s gazes bounced around the table in an awkward dance of not knowing what to say.
Chase tapped a hand over his dad’s. “You just asked us that, Dad. Everyone’s all set.”
A squint of confusion sputtered across his face.
Mrs. Thompson glanced from her husband to Quinn, a fractured look stealing the usual glint in her eyes again. She sprang up from the bench. “Good gracious, I almost forgot the ice cream.”
Cooper rose. “Let me help you with that.”
Inside, Mrs. Thompson busied herself with pulling out bowls from the cabinets. “There’s vanilla and rocky road in the freezer, dear.”
He withdrew the tubs of ice cream and set them beside her working space on the counter. Above the sink, the window brought a clear view of Quinn playing with Brayden outside. Someone must’ve turned on a sprinkler. As soon as the water touched Brayden’s skin, his smile almost outshined hers. Few people had the kind of smile that could change a person.
“She’s a special girl,” her mom said.
Cooper blinked away from the glare outside. Heat climbed his ears at knowing she’d caught him admiring Quinn from a distance.
“She’s as determined as they come, that one.” Her eyes dimmed. “And more fragile than she lets on.”
With the scoop over one of the bowls, she shook off a glob of ice cream along with whatever it was she wasn’t saying.
Cooper’s phone rang from his pocket. Drew. He ignored the call, not ready to deal with trying to hide things from his brother right now.
Mrs. Thompson tapped the scoop over another bowl. “Something you and Quinn have in common.”
“What’s that?”
“Business.” She motioned to his phone. “Our girl’s always been so driven. Once she was fixin’ to do something, we knew to clear the way. And ooh-wee, that girl got madder than a wet hen when things didn’t go according to plan.” Her hand stalled, her chuckle tapering. “I suppose that kind of drive will take you places.”
He peered out the window again. “Why’d she be interested in nannying, then?” The question slipped out before he could stop it. It was one thing to have questions. It was another to meddle. He didn’t want to interfere with her family’s shot at reconnecting with her today.
“Nannying?” Mrs. Thompson fumbled with a handful of spoons. In a quick recovery, she resumed her task. “Well, she’s always loved children. They seem to take to her more than other people.”
Cooper glanced at Quinn and Brayden again. “So I’ve noticed.”
She flipped the lid over each tub and peered through the window as well. “I reckon it fills a void for her. Makes her happy.” With a sad smile, she patted Cooper’s hand. “Be a doll and bring this tray out to the gang, won’t you?”
The screen door opened behind him.
“Better watch out,” Quinn said. “Mama can talk your ear off if you’re not careful.” From the look on her face, she was worried about what that talk consisted of.
Mrs. Thompson waved a dish rag at her. “Phooey. We were having a lovely chat. Weren’t we, honey?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Her mom strolled toward Quinn. “Don’t worry, sugar, I’m not stealing him from you.” She winked. “Yet.”
“Mama.”
“Oh, lighten up. My sight may not be what it used to, but I can still see when a man’s heart is already taken. A little teasing isn’t gonna change that.”
Quinn swatted her mom’s hand away when she reached for what looked like an inappropriate part of Quinn’s shirt. Cooper wasn’t about to ask.
“Cut those lights off when you come back out,” her mom called.
The door closed behind Mrs. Thompson, and Quinn’s gaze automatically found a stain on the floor to fixate on. “Sorry about that. All of it, really. I plan to set them straight about us today, so don’t worry. You won’t have to deal with this much longer.”
He stopped in front of her with the tray of ice cream between them. “Take your time. I’m doing just fine.”
Still avoiding eye contact, she pulled in her bottom lip and played with a strand of her hair.
At least, he was doing fine a moment ago. She killed him when she looked that cute without even realizing it.
He cleared his throat. “This ice cream, on the other hand, isn’t gonna make it much longer.”
Quinn looked at the fast-approaching soupy ice cream and opened the door. “Right. Sorry.”
Mrs. Thompson flagged them over. “Sugar, we were just talking about that old dance you and Dad used to do at all the cookouts each summer. ’Member?”
Quinn dipped a napkin in her water, took Brayden from Loraine, and wiped his red-stained mouth. “That was eons ago.”
“But wouldn’t it be so fun to do it again?” She squeezed her husband’s shoulders from behind him.
Quinn’s napkin dropped to the ground and started to blow away. She caught it with her foot, her voice apparently not as fast on catching up. “No one wants to see that dance, Mama.”
“I don’t know,” Cooper said. “I’m intrigued.”
She cut him an I-hate-you glare. “We don’t have the tape anymore.”
“You mean, this song?” Ginny held up her phone, a country tune bellowing from the speaker.
Mrs. Thompson practically cheered. “I’ll go get the boots and hat.”
“What?” Quinn whirled around to her mom already hurrying to the back steps. “Mama, no—” But the door had already swung behind her.
Cooper had no idea what this dance was all about, but one thing was for sure. If it involved Quinn wearing a cowgirl hat, he was dying to find out.