Boomerangers: A second chance romantic comedy (Cajun Girls Book 1)
Boomerangers: Chapter 6

Did that just happen?

The softening dick in my hoo-hah tells me that indeed it did. The throbbing between my legs says that I want it to happen again . . .

Shit. I’m so fucked—literally, figuratively, in all ways.

My head and my heart are raging a shitstorm of a battle and I’m too buzzed to try and make sense of it right now. All I want is for this man to make my body feel this way every day—every minute of the rest of my life. And it’s the one thing I know that I can never have.

I will not cry. I will not cry.

“You all right, Spence?” he purrs into my ear, and like a kitten, I nuzzle the side of my face into his.

“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. Because, what just happened?

He kisses the side of my face. “We should get dressed. Someone’s been knocking on the door.”

Oh shit.

I just had sex with my high school boyfriend, after spending maybe a total of three hours with him, in the bathroom of a bar . . . and now I’m going to do the walk of shame in front of half the town on my first day back.

Coop notices the panic in my face as he rights my thong and passes me my jeans. “Fuck ’em, Spence. Who are they, anyway?”

I know he’s right. I don’t know why I even care. Maybe it isn’t their judgment I’m worried about but my own. “We shouldn’t have—”

Coop spins me around to face him. “Don’t.” His eyes plead with mine. “Please don’t discount what just happened here, Spence. I know we aren’t together. But, we are two consenting adults, and we both wanted . . . no, needed. We needed this. Don’t turn it into something dirty.”

I glance around the single-stall restroom, taking in the piss on the floor and the horrendous smell, and I can’t help the giggle that escapes. Surely he has to see the hilarity in that statement.

Coop’s eyes dart around the room, and he huffs out a laugh. “You know what I mean.”

Suddenly, a fist starts pounding on the door. “All right, you two. I need to fucking piss like a goddamned racehorse. Come out with your pants up!” Fucking Josie. “No, wait! Cooper, you can keep yours down if you’d like.”

Cooper’s eyes grow wide as saucers as we both burst into a fit of laughter while scrambling to get back into our clothes.

“Coming,” I yell out as I tug on my jeans.

“Yeah, you did,” he whispers, and a blush works its way from my cheeks to my neck.

“T.M.I., lover girl. Hurry up!” Bang. Bang. Bang.

I stand directly behind Cooper, trying to hide as he twists the deadbolt and the door flies open. Josie rushes in, cursing us to hell and back, but neither of us pays her any mind. We walk right through the bar, ignoring all the knowing smiles and judging eyes, and make a beeline for the parking lot.

“Ride with me?” Coop asks as he pries the keys to his truck from the pocket of his tight jeans.

I take a moment to appraise him being that I had been too upset earlier at the conversation I’d walked in on to really drink him in the way a beautiful man like Cooper deserves. His brown hair is a wreck from the sex we just had . . . and it’s utterly delicious. His deep brown eyes are thick with emotion—with hunger and love? Maybe? He can’t possibly still love me after all these years. It doesn’t even matter . . . Moving along, I take in the way his muscles bulge against the fabric of his charcoal V-neck and how just the very front is tucked right behind the buckle of his belt, almost begging me to look at the bulge in his pants. The bulge that still has my sex clenching. Did the temperature just go up twenty degrees?

“Spence?” Coop chuckles.

I snap out of my daze, lifting my face to meet his. “Huh? Yeah?”

He rolls his bottom lip through his teeth with a smirk. “My eyes are up here,” he says as he points with his first two fingers at his sockets.

Busted.

“Just checkin’ out the, umm.” I gulp as his dick literally jumps in his jeans. I rub my eyes with my fingers. Am I seeing things? I can’t be that fucking drunk. I only had four of my ten drinks. Note to self: Coop still owes me drinks.

“Yes?” he taunts, giving me a knowing smile.

“The merchandise.”

“What merchandise?” he asks, and I swear to baby Jesus it jumps again.

“Do that again.”

“Do what again?” Fuck that fucking smirk right off his damned perfect face.

I tilt my head to the side, lifting my brows. “You know what I’m talking about. Make it jump.”

He snorts out a laugh. “Make what jump, Princess?”

I let out an exaggerated sigh. “Your . . . thing . . .” I wave my hand over the general area of his crotch.

Coop’s brows lift. “My . . . thing? Is that what they teach you to call it in sex therapy school? ’Cause I’ve got to say, baby, you aren’t sounding very professional at the moment.”

“Ugh,” I growl. “Just forget it. I’m going home.” I start to fish my keys from my purse as I turn toward my truck and instantly his hands are on my waist, spinning me around ’til his body is flattening my back against the passenger door of his truck. He’s breathing heavily against my neck, and suddenly I’m out of breath. It’s just gone, along with every ounce of common sense I used to possess.

His tongue traces a path from my shoulder to my ear, and I think if he asked, I’d give him round two right here in the damned parking lot.

“I was just messing with you, Spence. Didn’t mean to piss you off again,” he says, sounding sincere.

Was I mad? I can’t remember. My heart is beating so hard. So fast. It scares me. The depth of what I still feel for this man scares the shit out of me. “I need . . . I need to go home, Coop.” My eyes well up, and I have a sudden urge to cry.

He nods, trailing the side of his hand along my face. “Let me drive you? We can pick up your car tomorrow.”

I think I’m more drunk on him than the alcohol, but in either case, in my current condition, I probably should not be driving. “Okay.”

His smile is flat as he grips my chin with his thumb and forefinger, placing a whisper soft kiss on the tip of my nose. With both hands, he pushes off the truck, lifting his body away from mine, and leaving me feeling empty, alone, and so confused.

I hear the sound of the lock clicking as he rounds the truck to his side. I pull the door open and climb into his truck, breathing in the scent of Coop’s cologne and leather.

Riding through town beside Coop again is surreal. This truck is different. We are different, yet in my heart, nothing’s changed. It knows this boy, these back roads, and draws comfort from the familiar cadence that only Cooper James has ever evoked.

The five-minute drive home is made in complete silence, although I feel like we’ve said so much.

As he shifts his truck into park in the very spot where he broke my heart all those years ago, I feel a sense of dread. I reach for the handle and turn to leave when his hand darts out, gripping my wrist. Déjà vu.

“Spence?” His voice is clogged with emotion. His eyes reflecting the same hurt and confusion I feel deep in my chest.

“Yeah?”

“You didn’t wait . . . I-I thought you’d wait.” His eyes are rimmed in tears.

“No,” I choke out, shaking my head. The fucking nerve. “I wasn’t your toy to play with and then put on a shelf for another day when you were ready to play with her again. You don’t get to blame me, Cooper,” I grit out as a tear slips down my cheek. “This . . .” I gesture between the two of us as tears flood from my eyes. “You alone are responsible.”

“Well, you got your revenge, didn’t you?” he sneers. His eyes drift over to Momma’s house where my babies lie asleep.

I gasp, shocked that he would go there. “Let me make one thing crystal fucking clear to you right now. My children were not revenge, and my having them had not one Goddamned thing to do with you—”

“No?” Cooper shakes his head in disbelief.

I yank my wrist from his grip. “No, and if you so much as look at them the wrong way, this friendship is over.”

His jaw ticks as he turns his head, staring absently into space, and just as I’m climbing down from the truck, his fist slams down into the dash. Fuck him.

As I cross the yard back to our house, I put my momma hat back on. I’m not the fragile little girl I was back then. Being a mother has toughened me up in a way that I don’t think anything else could. Where I may not have been able to find the strength to hold myself together for me, I have an endless reserve when it comes to my boys.

With my cheeks still sticky with dried tears, I creep into the room where Landon and Lake are asleep, and for a moment, I stand in the doorway, watching the steady rise and fall of their chests. I listen to the gentle hum of their breaths and I wonder when my little babies started to turn into men. And I pray. I pray that my boys will be good men. That they will know how to treat the women in their lives, and more than anything, I pray to God that they will be good fathers, despite the fact that they’ve had no one to show them how.

I walk over to Lake, placing a kiss on his forehead, and then move to Landon’s bed and do the same.

His eyes pop open, and he smiles a dreamy smile. “’Night, Mom. Love you.”

That strength I spoke of earlier? Yeah, it’s gone. These boys are the ones with the power to bring me to my knees. Suddenly, I’m sniveling like a fool.

Landon sits up in bed. “Are you okay, Mom?”

I wrap him in my arms. “I’m sorry. I-I shouldn’t have hit you earlier.” I haven’t had a chance to apologize to him yet, and it’s been eating me alive.

My baby hugs me back, his chest vibrating with tears. “I’m sorry, too, Mom.”

“It’ll be okay,” I assure him as I rub my hand in circles on his back. Somehow, it soothes the ache in my own chest as well.

I feel him swallow and nod his head. “I know.”

I tuck Landon in, just like I used to when he was little, and leave his room feeling ten pounds lighter. I peek in on Kyle sleeping soundly in his crib and make my way to my old room.

Immediately, I strip out of my clothes, bra, panties and all. I can’t stand the smoky smell imbedded in them from the bar. Grabbing fresh underclothes, a camisole, and sleep shorts, I make my way into the adjoining bathroom and take the world’s fastest shower.

When I return to my room, I pick up my phone from the side table. There are messages waiting from a number I don’t recognize.

?: I’m sorry for what I said. I’d really like to meet your kids.

Me: You met them already. And how did you get my number?

?: I mean really meet them. Get to know them. I called myself from your phone when you were busy gossiping with Josie. I’m not sorry for that.

Me: You don’t even like kids.

Asshole: I never said I didn’t like kids. I said I didn’t want any and they made me uncomfortable. That’s not the same thing.

Me: Don’t try to lawyer me, Coop. Why the sudden interest?

Asshole: They’re part of you . . . and you’re important to me.

Oh, my heart.

Me: We’ll see.

Asshole: Okay. ’Night, Princess. See you tomorrow.

Me: ’Night, Coop.

Asshole: BTW, thanks for the strip tease. Forgot to close your curtains.;)

I roll over, and sure enough, the curtains are wide open.

Me: Did your “thing” jump?

Asshole: Like a dick in the box.

Me: You are so corny.

Asshole: Get it? Like a jack in the box, but it’s a dick in the box? BTW, I think you typed C by accident when you really meant H.

Me: Yeah . . . I got it. Thanks. Now you’ve got me corny with an H, too, picturing JT with his dick in a box. MMMM.

Asshole: I’ve got a package you are more than welcome to unwrap. Let me take care of you, baby. I promise you won’t be disappointed.

Me: I’m an independent woman, Coop. I’ve gotten really good at taking care of myself. 😉

Asshole: Nothing’s as good as the real thing.

Me: I don’t know. Fabio is ginormous and thick. He has five settings and NO SPERM. #winning.

Asshole: But can he suck those beautiful tits of yours, Princess? Does he fuck your mouth with his tongue? Make your heart feel like it’s going to explode in your chest? Does he make you cry out when you cum the way half the town heard you scream for me tonight?

Holy fuck. I’m panting. Shaking. Aching. He’s a man, Spencer. Another fucking man who doesn’t do kids. Remember that.

Me: No. But, he won’t break my heart, either. He’s safe. You’re a lesson I’ve already learned, and one I don’t care to repeat. Goodnight, Cooper.