Boomerangers: A second chance romantic comedy (Cajun Girls Book 1)
Boomerangers: Chapter 14

I’m in the middle of the most delicious dream starring Cooper and his massive erection when I feel little eyes staring at me. Go away . . .

“My pull-up all quishy, Mommy.”

Hello, reality.

I peel my eyes open, blinking a few times to clear the fog from my vision. “Mornin’, baby,” I grumble.

“I all wet.”

Still half asleep, I reach out, scruffing his hair.

“You not mess up my hair, Mom!” His little hands fly up, swatting mine away.

“Sorry, Savage.”

After stretching my arms and legs while releasing a groan that could wake the dead, I force myself to roll out of the bed and take my son to the bathroom. I clean him up and brush his teeth then my own before carrying him down to the kitchen for breakfast.

“Mornin’, Princess,” I hear as I step through the doorway. “Hey there, little dude.”

Cooper is seated at the table with my mother, sipping on a cup of coffee, already a few rounds into a game of Yahtzee. It’s such a casual scene that for a moment it steals my breath. I drink him in, all 6’2” of his delectable frame. The Saints ball cap that’s turned slightly to the left. His Brees jersey and khaki cargo shorts. The bare feet resting on the bottom rung of his chair.

Kyle squeals, squirming in my arms to be put down. “My man here, Mom!”

Screw you, Mom. Cooper’s here.

I bend over, setting my son on his feet while completely forgetting that I’ve only just woken up and haven’t gotten dressed yet. It isn’t until I look up to find Cooper’s eyes fixed on my breasts, which are completely visible through the gaping neckline of my sleep shirt, that I realize I’m not even wearing a bra.

Quickly, I stand, crossing my arms over my chest, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks.

Cooper winks and a sexy smirk fixes itself on his face just as my son barrels in to his lap.

“What’s up, Savage?” he asks, settling him on his right leg while casually resuming his game and rolling the dice.

“Mornin’, Spence,” Momma greets after finishing up her turn. Thank God she was too busy tallying her scores to see me flash Cooper. That would have been infinitely more embarrassing.

“Mornin’, Momma,” I return, kissing her on the cheek. “I’m gonna run upstairs real quick and put some clothes on. I didn’t realize we had company.” I look pointedly at Cooper.

“Don’t hurry on my account,” Coop teases, his eyes glistening with mirth. “I’m fully on board with freeing the tatas.”

“I wanna free tatas, too!” Savage announces in worship of his new idol.

Momma snorts out a laugh. “Behave, Cooper,” she chastises, pointing a finger at him.

“You’re ruining my kid.” I narrow my eyes, trying for a serious look that just doesn’t work with the smile that’s plastered on my face.

“Enhancing,” Coop corrects.

“Maybe try enhancing age appropriate behaviors, huh?”

Coop’s brows dip toward his nose and his lips pucker in a sour face. “What fun is that?”

I shake my head while still smiling. “I’m going to get dressed,” I announce, backing toward the stairs with my eyes fixed on Coop’s booboo lip that could put Kyle’s to shame.

I don my favorite pair of distressed jeans and my pink Saints jersey with pink chucks. While I’m running the flat iron through my hair, my phone dings.

Gina: On my way! Can’t wait to see you and those boys.

Me: Same here. Drive safe!

I take my time artfully applying my makeup and styling my hair to try to redeem myself for the ratchet state I was presented in this morning. I don’t know how that man hasn’t gone running for the hills yet.

An hour later, I’m descending the stairs and through the screen door I find all three of my boys throwing a ball around the yard with Cooper.

My heart bursts in my chest. Just explodes. It physically hurts to feel so much all at once. It’s like I’m staring at a movie of what my life—our life—could have been. It’s watching my boys get the attention they’re starved for from a man who doesn’t owe them a damned thing. From a man who genuinely seems to enjoy their company. It’s a punch in the gut, a slap in the face, a tease. It’s what I want more than anything else in the world. But it’s a mirage. It’s only temporary.

Coop is a good man, but he’s not looking to raise his own, much less anyone else’s children. And something tells me especially not mine.

The door creeks open, breaking my trance. “They’re having so much fun out there, Spence.” Momma’s smile fills her entire face. It makes me happy to see her smiling again. She’s only fifty-one and has been living like an old woman. I’m glad my boys seem to be helping to pull her back from the depression that’s been weighing her down.

“I can see that.” I’m once again staring as I make my way down the last two steps.

Momma slips her fingers through my hair. “You look beautiful.”

“Thanks, Ma.”

“Now, go on out there and have some fun, huh?” She swats me on the butt to get me moving before disappearing into the house.

“Hey, Mom,” Landon calls as I step out onto the porch. He’s lying on the ground with Cooper and Lake piled on top of him, and Kyle screaming that it’s his turn while trying to strip the ball from his hands.

The rest of the boys all turn my direction with huge smiles.

“How ’bout a little two on two?” Coop suggests, rising to his feet and dusting the fresh cut grass from his shorts.

Before I can answer, Lake bursts into laughter. “Mom doesn’t run . . . or sweat. She probably can’t even catch a ball.”

Ohhhh, that little shit.

“Oh, I don’t know. You’re momma used to be able to keep up with us boys pretty well.”

I really haven’t done anything physical in so long. “It’s okay. I’ll just watch y’all.”

The next thing I know, the ball is soaring toward my face. My hands fly up without thought, catching it before it smacks me in the forehead.

“See, she can catch,” Coop says to my boys, coming to my defense. “Pick your man.” His eyes stare into mine, issuing a challenge.

If only it were that damned easy, right?

I toss the ball back before lifting my hands palms out. “It’s really fine. I just got dressed and fixed my hair and makeup. I haven’t really played . . . well, probably since the last time I played with you. I’m good. Y’all play,” I say, waving him off.

“When did you turn into such a priss?”

My eyes narrow as Coop taunts me from across the yard. “Fine. I’ll take Landon.”

“Wha? Why me? I don’t wanna lose.”

Ass.

“You be with Cooper. He’s good. Me and Landon can be together and the teams will be more even,” Lake suggests.

“No, I on Pooper team!” Kyle shouts, stomping his bare foot on the grass.

“Well, if she’s that bad, I don’t want her, either!” Coop rags.

I grab the pony tail holder from my wrist and knot my freshly ironed hair on top of my head. “Let’s go, Coop. Me and you . . . and don’t make me look bad in front of my boys.” I eye him as I walk over to stand beside him and Kyle.

Cooper chuckles. “I’ll try, Princess.”

I learn real quick that there is a huge difference between an eighteen-year-old body and a thirty-three-year-old body. It doesn’t move quite as fast or as gracefully. And getting tackled to the ground hurts way more than it used to. My boys seem to enjoy trampling over me more than they should.

“Babe,” Coop whispers, helping me back to my feet as I groan and slap some of the dirt from my favorite jeans, which are now covered in grass stains. Why did I agree to this?

“Yeah?”

“You don’t need me to make you look bad.”

“Screw you,” I spit back with a grin. I’m freaking exhausted and panting like I’ve just had hours of sex. I’m filthy and my pants are ruined. I have grass sticking out of my hair and every inch of my body hurts. But, I can’t stop smiling.

Coop’s brows bounce. “Anytime.”

We’ve been playing for over an hour when Gina’s red Audi pulls into our drive. Her window is down, and she’s pumping the horn and screaming her hellos out before she’s even stopped the car.

My boys, all three, rush to her vehicle. It’s been less than two weeks since they’ve last seen her, but you could swear it’s been years. They are closer to Gina than anyone else. She’s the only one who’s been around regularly since they were born.

“Whodat?!?” she yells, climbing out of the car with her hands in the air, raising the roof. She’s of course all decked out in her Saints gear. This is south Louisiana, after all, and tonight we play our biggest rival, The Falcons, in a very rare Saturday night football game.

My boys give their Auntie GiGi big hugs, and Kyle pulls at her clothes, trying to climb up into her arms.

“Hey, boyfriend,” she sings after greeting Lake and Landon, swinging Kyle up onto her hip. “You been being a good boy for Auntie?”

His eyes get big as he nods his head while the twins give theirs an exaggerated shake.

“Of course you have, angel.” She glares at Lake and Landon while reaching into her purse and pulling out a plastic container of mini M&Ms.

“You bring me nem-nems! Tank you, GiGi.”

Gina kisses his face a few times before setting Kyle down to eat his snack. When she finally looks my way, her eyes bug out and she does a double take. “The fuck happened to you?” Gina’s face screws up in disgust.

My hands automatically react to her grimace, reaching into my hair, plucking out leaves and grass. “We’ve been playing football.”

“Well, shit . . . I’m sorry I missed that!”

Coop’s laugh rumbles through his chest. “Hey, Gina. It’s been a minute.” He leans in, giving her a hug.

She returns it, patting him on the back a few times. “It’s good to see you, Coop.” Her voice hitches and she coughs to clear her throat.

My girl. Gina has claimed to hate Cooper for years because of the way he hurt me, but the two of them used to be really close. It was always the three of us growing up.

“You look good, Gi.”

My eyes well up as I witness their reunion. There’s just something about being here again with the two of them. I can’t explain it, but the time we spent apart just seems to vanish.

We’re once again the five-year-olds who got in trouble for eating paste in Mrs. Landry’s kindergarten classroom. Ten-year-olds lost hiking in the woods that had to be rescued via search party. Lemonade stands in the summer and Friday nights at the skating rink. Nick at Night marathons and choking on pilfered cigarettes. First highs, first drunks, first dances, kisses, cars, loves. We’re bonfires in the cane fields and shared limos to prom. We’re so deeply woven into each other’s lives that no amount of time or distance could ever sever our bond. We shared our most formative years, molded each other into the people we are today, and the three of us together will always feel like home.

My bestie dabs at her eyes. “You, too, Coop.”

“Is that a tear?” Landon jeers.

“No.” She huffs. “I just had an eyelash.”

Coop and I share a discrete smile while my tough as nails bestie tries to save her reputation with her godson.

“I think Aunt Gigi has a feeling,” he teases, pointing and laughing.

“I’m gonna show you a feeling in a minute, you little shit.” She reaches out her index finger, poking Landon in the tummy repeatedly as he folds over laughing. He hates to be tickled, and it’s Gina’s favorite method of torture. “What’s this I hear about you giving your momma a hard time, huh?” She keeps poking away.

Landon’s hands go around his middle, trying to block her attack. “Stop,” he whines, bending at the waist. Gina is relentless, and when he takes off into the house, she is right on his heels, tripping up the steps behind him.

“They seem pretty close,” Coop observes with a smile.

I turn from the house with a grin still plastered to my face. “They are. She’s like their second mother. I swear, if I could convince myself to become a vagitarian, I’d have married that bitch years ago.”

Coop chokes, his face turning bright red.

“Don’t worry.” I wink, shifting my eyes to his crotch. “I’m a little too fond of the peen.”

He shakes his head, rolling his eyes. “You’re insane.”

I pinch my fingers together, leaving a sliver of space. “Just a little bit.”

“A lot a bit,” he counters. Cooper reaches out, attempting to pull a twig from the rat’s nest on top of my head, but it gets stuck.

“Owe!”

“Oh,” he hisses, sucking in his breath. “Sorry, Princess.” My obsession moves closer, and with both hands digs the offending trash from my hair. He works slowly. Gently.

Coop is so close. His warm breath drugs me, making me weak and wanting. My breathing changes. It’s quicker, shorter, louder. My heart races. I’m dizzy.

“Got it,” he whispers, running the stick along the side of my face, my neck, and over the tops of my breasts before dropping it in the grass between us. His eyes are heavy-lidded—his stare ravenous. Coop cups the side of my face.

Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me.

“What’s a vagarian?”

Shit! I allowed myself to get so caught up in the moment with Coop that I forgot Lake and Kyle are still running around the front yard.

Coop’s sigh is half chuckle as he hangs his head, taking a few steps back while I turn to my baby boy. He’s staring up at me with curious brown eyes and a creased forehead.

Thinking quickly, as motherhood has trained me to do, I spit out a lie. “It’s veterinarian,” I say really slowly, enunciating each syllable. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Coop’s face light with the sexiest grin. “It’s a doctor who takes care of animals.”

“Oh, yike Doc. Muffins?”

“Just like Doc Muffins,” I agree, sighing with relief.

A loud guffaw bursts from Cooper’s lips, and I turn on him, raising my brow.

“Oh, come on. Doc. Muffins.” He stresses the word muffins as if it explains his obnoxious laughter.

I roll my eyes. “It’s a kid’s show, Coop,” I explain, crossing my arms on my chest. “Her name is Doc. McStuffins. He can’t pronounce it right. Don’t you think you’re a little too old to make fun of a toddler?” I don’t even try to hide my annoyance with his juvenile behavior.

“Calm down, Chachi,” he says as his laughter dies down. “I’m not laughing at him.”

Humph.

“Seriously?” His eyes widen. “You told him a vagitarian was a veterinarian and he said like Doc. Muffins.” His head comes forward a little as his brows jump in a “Get it now?” gesture.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Gina says, walking up behind me. “Muffin, Spence . . . muffin . . .” My best friend looks at me expectantly. “Muffin is eating the . . . uh . . .” Her eyes fall upon Kyle, who’s still standing at my side. “Eating the muffin . . .”

“I yike eating muffins!”

Coop’s mouth falls open. “Of course you do, potty mouth.” He snorts.

My eyes close as I shake my head. Gina is about to piss herself, and Coop is having way too much fun with my fucking kid.

Kyle laughs because they’re laughing. Always eager to put on a show, he adds, “Muffin’s nummy, Pooper.”

Coop composes himself . . . somewhat. “Muffins are very nummy. You should definitely be a veterinarian when you grow up so you can eat lots of muffins, Savage.”

“I will!” Kyle says excitedly before running off to tell Lake.

“Did you just tell my baby that he should be a pussy eating lesbian when he grows up?”

Coop huffs, indignant, and looks at me as if I’ve just grown two heads. “No. I told him to be an animal doctor and eat muffins. Get your mind out of the gutter, Princess.”

“Where’d Coop run off to?” Mom asks, lifting her eyes from the papers she’s been grading with a panicked look on her face.

Good Lord, our parents need to stop with this crap.

Coop had to take off because he was meeting the guys to watch the game at the bar, but before I can answer, my best friend calls off the dog.

“What was that?” Gina asks sarcastically with her hand cupping her ear. “Was that an, ‘Oh my God, Gina’s here?’” my best friend asks, making jazz hands in the air as she sassy-walks over to my mother, who’s curled up on the couch with her feet propped on the coffee table, papers resting on bent knees.

Momma tosses the papers to the side, standing to greet her “adopted” daughter with an exaggerated eye roll. “Hey, Gina,” she says, enveloping her in her arms. “How was the drive?”

“It was a bitch getting out of the city. The traffic was insane with the game today, but after that, it was nice.” Gina kisses Momma’s cheek, loosely grabbing each of her hands with her own before backing away a little to appraise her. “You look good, Ma.”

“Thanks, baby.” Momma drops back into the dip of the couch that’s still visible due to her always sitting in the same spot, patting the space beside her for us to join her in front of the TV. It’s almost kickoff time. “So, you back for good now?” Momma asks, getting settled into position to grade more papers.

“Yeah,” Gina answers, curling her feet under her thighs. “I’m renting one of the apartments behind T-Boy’s. There’s no way I’m moving back in with my folks.” She cringes and visibly shivers.

Momma giggles. “Oh, they aren’t that bad, Gina!” Her hand pats Gina’s thigh.

“Hah.” I snort, perching on the arm of the couch beside Momma. “Her parents are freaks, Momma.”

Mom’s eyes roll up again as her head shakes.

“They really are,” Gina adds. “Last time I came home unannounced, they were . . . uh . . . doing it on the kitchen table. I will never get the image of my Daddy’s wrinkly old ass out of my memory. Scarred for life.” Her finger goes to the back of her throat and she gags.

Momma’s face blushes. “Well . . . I guess you don’t show up unannounced anymore, do ya?”

“Hell no. I left my key on the table that day just to make sure I’d never forget to knock. I don’t think any two parents have ever been more excited about getting their house back to themselves than mine were when I moved out. And I’m not going back!”

Which reminds me . . . “Oh, yeah. Momma, Gina’s gonna stay here for a few days ’til her apartment is ready, if that’s okay?” Like she’d ever say no.

“Of course it is.” Her eyes start to well with tears.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, smoothing her long, dark hair.

She sniffs, rubbing her nose on the back of her hand. “I’m just so happy to have my girls back.” Tears begin dripping from her eyes as she takes a deep breath and clears her throat. “It’s nice to not come home to an empty house anymore.”

My heart breaks, and as much as it sucks that I lost a job I loved and had to uproot my children, as much as it is rocking my world to have Coop in such close proximity again, in this moment, I am completely at peace with my decision to come home.

I feel myself beginning to doze off when the sound of a lock clicking jerks me awake. The door to my bathroom swings open, and Gina walks out with a warm cloud of steam trailing behind. Her short, blonde hair is sticking up in all directions. She’s in black booty shorts and a New Kids on the Block reunion tee she got from a concert we attended together last year. When she realizes I’m awake, my best friend pauses in the middle of the room, placing a hand on one hip and the other on the back of her head, striking a pose.

Goober.

She struts the rest of the way before flopping down beside me on my full-size bed and lacing her fingers with mine. We lay quietly staring up at the pink canopy with our legs dangling over the side of the bed.

“Why couldn’t you have a dick?” I ask after a few minutes, breaking the silence.

My best friend, who is totally used to my randomness, doesn’t even bat an eye at the question. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “My tits are pretty nice, though.” She relinquishes my hand, cupping her boobs and lifting.

“Meh. They’re all right.” Gina narrows her eyes at me. “You’re kinda short, too,” I note.

“Yeah. That’d be weird.” She turns her head to the side to face me and shrugs. “You’ll have to be the man.”

“But I have the better boobs,” I whine.

“Look, bitch,” my best friend says, propping herself on her elbow. “I can get implants and you can get a fake cock, but I can’t get taller than you. We’re not going to be the weirdo lesbians where the short one wears the pantsuit.”

The girl does have a point . . . “If I get a dick, can I keep my boobs?”

“Fine, but it better be a big dick.”

“You know I don’t do anything half-assed. You better be able to take a foot long dong, sista,” I tease, lifting my brows.

She giggles, causing the bed to shake. “I wonder how you get it up . . .”

“There’s a button on your side . . . You press it and boy-yoy-yoing!”

Gina huffs. “No shit? How the hell’d you know that?”

“Google.”

She nods. “Google knows all the things.”

“I wonder if I’d still be able to orgasm . . .” I say, already reaching for my phone. I open up Safari and begin searching, as if I’m actually considering this ludicrous idea.

In the middle of reading, I feel Gina’s elbow jab me in the ribs and wince. “What’s it say?” she asks with the impatience of a toddler.

I ignore her until I’ve finished reading. “It says I get to keep my clitoris. It will be the tip of my new penis . . . But, only eighty-five percent of patients who have the surgery are able to orgasm after.”

“Well, those are good odds.”

I snort. “For whom? That’s a fifteen percent chance I never orgasm again. Fuck that shit. Can you even imagine how miserable I’d be?”

Gina and I share the mindset that orgasms are vital to a happy life and are not above telling each other when we could stand to go rub one out.

“You’re right. I wouldn’t want to live with your bitch ass.”

“Me either,” I agree. “Guess that kills that wonderful idea.”

“I’m convinced God created that miraculous appendage to make up for how horrible men are.” The disgusted look on Gina’s face makes me grin.

“Without a doubt,” I agree. “They’ve got us all hypnotized with those damned things.”

“Think that’s why all the princesses and fairies carry wands?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You know . . . so they could have a magic stick of their own. I bet old Walt was feeling sorry for us when he designed the wand.” She holds an imaginary scepter in her fingers and swirls it around the air above us.

“You know . . .” I yawn, feeling sleep threaten to take me. “You may be on to somethin’, bestie.”

“Course I am,” Gina says through a yawn of her own. “Why do you think they call dildos wands?”

Well, I’ll be damned. “Never really gave it much thought,” I answer, silently noting to Google that shit tomorrow.

Gina and I right ourselves in the bed, and before dozing off, I shoot a quick text to Cooper.

Me: You win. I’m not getting a dick.

Asshole: Have you been drinking, Princess?

Me: Googling.

Asshole: I see. Did fabulous Fabio die or something?

Me: No, dummy. A real one. But, if I get a dick installed . . . there’s a 15% chance I’ll never orgasm again.

Asshole: I don’t know what to say, Spencer. I may be too drunk for this conversation.

Me: Don’t worry. I’m not doing it. It’s too risky.

Asshole: I’m glad to hear that. Why exactly are you wanting a sex change?

Me: So I could marry Gina. She loves me and my kids. They love her. It would be perfect, right? Stupid wands . . .

Asshole: Are you high?

Me: Just tired. ’Night, Coop.

Asshole: ’Night, beautiful.