Boomerangers: A second chance romantic comedy (Cajun Girls Book 1)
Boomerangers: Chapter 12

I couldn’t get out of that house fast enough. I hadn’t even seen Cooper’s truck parked in his spot on the way in. I hadn’t looked because he’s never home this early. Most nights I don’t see his truck roll up ’til six or seven. And, yes, I’ve watched.

My chest feels tight as I cross the yard back over to Momma’s, and before I’ve even put the key in the door, Mom and my boys pull into the drive. I must admit that it’s nice having my mother work at their school so that I don’t have to worry about picking them up after football practice. She sticks around ’til they’re done to complete her lesson plans.

Unlocking the door, I shove it open with my hip and set Kyle down inside, turning back around to wave hello to my boys, who are climbing out of Mom’s van.

“How was practice?”

I hear them talking but am unable to focus on a word they say as my attention is stolen by the man who’s just stepped out onto the neighbors’ porch. He must’ve changed the minute Kyle and I left, trading the suit for jeans that hug his ass to perfection and a blue button down with the sleeves cuffed at the elbows. His hair is freshly styled in that just fucked look he wears so well.

“Hey, boys!” he calls out, waving at the kids as he heads in the direction of his truck.

The boys both take off toward him, and I have to force myself to turn away and join Kyle and Momma, who at some point have managed to sneak around me, inside of the house.

“How was your interview, baby?” Mom asks as she snatches an apple from the fruit bowl and begins cutting it into slices for Kyle.

“You’re spoiling me,” I tell her, placing a kiss on her cheek. “You may never get rid of me.” I wink, resting my forearms on the counter across from her.

“I like having people to take care of again. Y’all don’t have to leave. I told you that already.”

“I know, Momma. We’ll see.” I snatch a slice of apple from the plate in front of her. “The interview was good. School counselor isn’t exactly at the top of my list.” I frown. “Oh my God, Principal George actually said that I’d be the perfect assistant to the nurse when it came time for sex ed because she’s a big ol’ prude.” I laugh.

“Nuh unh. He said that?”

I finish chewing and swallow before answering. “Yep. This whole town is obsessed with my job. It’s so embarrassing.”

Lake and Landon finally make their way into the house, bringing with them the scent of ass. Gag. The whole house smells as soon as they walk inside. I don’t know how Momma survives the ride home with them in the afternoons.

“Peeyew,” I gripe, pinching my nose. “Showers, boys!”

“Awe,” Landon whines, “can I get a snack first?”

“Dude, you smell like you’ve been dipped in shit. Go shower and then get a snack.”

Lake hangs back, allowing Landon, who is always starving, to shower first. “Hey, Mom . . .”

“Yeah?”

“Are, uh . . . are you and Cooper still fighting?”

I’m not sure how to answer that. Of course they figured out what was going on. They aren’t babies anymore. “Um, we aren’t fighting.”

Lake lifts his brows in disbelief. “Well, ’cause I don’t want you to be mad at him because of us. He’s nice, and he was right, too. He wasn’t mean to us or anything. Just pointed out that there’s some things we could be doing for ourselves to help you out.”

“Lake, I appreciate your concern. Really, I do. But, it’s more complicated than that. I don’t want you worrying about it. Coop and I have been friends for a long, long time, and this will eventually blow over.” I hope.

He smiles. “Sure, Mom.”

“Did he say where he was off to?” I ask without thinking and immediately wish I could take the question back. I shouldn’t involve my son in our shit.

Lake’s face turns up in a knowing smirk. “Rough day at work. He was going to T-Boy’s.”

The afternoons on school days seem to fly by. There just aren’t enough hours. By the time the boys and Momma get home after practice, it’s nearly 5:30. The few hours before bed are spent on showers, dinner, and homework. And sometimes we can squeeze in an episode or two of CSI Miami. Tonight was a really good night and we were able to work in three.

After the kids and Momma have gone to bed, I take myself out to sit on the porch and soak up some fresh air. Before I realize it, I’ve passed out in the wooden rocker. When my phone dings, waking me, I realize that it’s nearing midnight. I wonder how long I’d have slept if my phone hadn’t gone off. Speaking of which, I swipe the screen to see who’s messaging this late.

Latin Lovah: Don’t make me take you to court, ’cause I will.

I press the power button, darkening the screen, and set the phone face down on the table, as if avoiding looking at it will make it disappear. The acid in my stomach begins to churn. I’m so scared. I should’ve had Alex sign something. I have no clue what rights that asshole actually has or whether or not our text messages will even hold up in court. I don’t know, and I’m too afraid to find out, so I’m holding on to the hope that he will give up and vanish again.

I’m methodically rocking, gnawing off my fingernails, when Coop’s truck swerves into their drive. He’s drunk.

I fly out of my chair without giving it a second thought, meeting him at his truck before the door has even swung open, and when it does, I fly off the handle.

“What’re you thinking getting behind the wheel in your condition? Huh?” I shove his chest with so much force that he has to grab the door to keep from falling over.

“Hey, Princess,” he says clutching his chest where I’ve just pushed him. “Why you gotta be so violent? Let’s make love, not war.” His words are slow and drawn out.

“Stop kidding around. I’m serious. You could have killed yourself or someone else. You have a fucking phone. Use it!”

“Would you misssss me, baby?” His hand darts out and grabs onto my hip. Coop pulls me forward to stand between his parted legs, his ass resting on the edge of the truck seat. “You s-smell so good.”

“You reek.”

He chuckles. “You always say the sexiest th-things, Princesss.” Both of his hands slip around my waist, cupping my ass. “You have the best butt ever in the whole world, Spence . . .”

“You need to go inside and sleep this off.” I try to move away, but his hold is really tight.

Coop’s head falls forward, resting on my breasts. “I had a bad day, friend.”

“I heard,” I say softly, placing a hand in his hair and massaging his scalp.

“You gotta esplain how this works.”

Lord, give me patience. “How what works, Coop?”

He hiccups, lifting his head. “The benefitsss. Can I cash in or do I have to wait ’til you wanna do it? ’Cause I could really, really use some right now.”

Dear God, I should be pissed, but I can see the sadness in his eyes, and I know that he’s not trying to insult me.

“Cooper, I don’t think you could get it up tonight if you tried.” I’m not being mean. I’m serious as a heart attack. Whiskey dick is real.

“Wanna bet?” he counters, emphasizing the T.

“Not especially.”

“They were so sad, Spence—her parents. And when they broke down . . . I s-saw you.”

I am so confused. “What are you talking about, Cooper?”

“The f-f-foster mom. When they took her away. I pictured you and Savage and it hurts. It hurts, Princess. I don’t wanna do it anymore.”

Oh no. I remember him mentioning the hearing in passing now. “You guys lost? Did they give her back to her mother?”

He nods, and I feel warm, wet tears on my chest.

“Hey,” I say, lifting his face. “I’m sorry, Coop. I’m so, so sorry.” The sadness in his eyes is too much and soon I’m crying right along with him.

“I need you.” God, how I wish it were true.

“Cooper, I’m not sleeping with you like this. You’re drunk.”

“I won’t press charges.”

How can he be stupid drunk and still so damned cute? “Coop, I’m not worried about you pressing charges,” I say with a laugh. “You hate me right now.” He shakes his head. “You do, and you just don’t remember because you’re drunk and sad and horny and you ‘need me.’ But, in the morning, when you’ve sobered up, you’re going to regret it and I won’t be able to handle that. So, no, you can’t cash in on benefits tonight.”

His head shakes. “You’re wrong. I would never regret fucking you.”

I find myself once again giggling. “You’re a real Casanova tonight, let me tell you.”

“What about kissing? Is that off the menu, too?” His hands flex, squeezing my ass as he nips at my nose.

“I guess that’d be all right.”

He brings his face to mine slowly and I expect his kiss to be sloppy and drunk. But Coop must not need his wits for this skill because in this kiss, I feel more connected to this man than I have ever felt in my life. And that says a lot. I don’t know if it’s because he’s not overthinking it. It’s honest and pure. I feel the emotion in my bones.

He doesn’t try to take things further, content to make out like teenagers in our parents’ front yards. Our connection is so powerful that it overwhelms me. I find myself crying for no explicable reason.

He feels it too and pulls his lips from mine, kissing my tears away. “Don’t cry, Spencer. Fuck. I can’t take it.”

“I’m sorry.” I sniffle, trying to dry my tears. “It’s just . . . Wow, Coop.”

“I’m a good kisser,” he beams.

I chuckle. “The best.”

“It feels different,” he muses, “kissing you.”

“Different than it used to?” I ask, searching for his meaning.

Coop shakes his head. “No, esactly the same.” He takes both of his hands and tucks my hair behind my ears. “It never felt like this . . . with anyone else.” He seems surprised by his own admission, and I’m starting to really like drunk, filterless Cooper.

“For me either,” I find myself admitting.

He nods, clearing his throat. “I was wrong.”

“Don’t even worry about it. The kids aren’t upset.” I’m just so relieved we’re finally hashing this out and pray that he remembers it all in the morning.

“No. I was r-right about that.”

Okay, scratch that. “What were you wrong about, then?”

“I should’ve never let you g-go.”

“No,” I agree. “You shouldn’t have.”