Boomerangers: A second chance romantic comedy (Cajun Girls Book 1)
Boomerangers: Chapter 9

“Well,” Momma urges, practically bouncing out of her skin, “how’d it go today at the lake?”

“It was good,” I respond, slamming another bag of ice down on the brick patio to break it up and then dumping it on top of the cooler of beer.

When I raise my head, I bust out laughing at the look of annoyance on her face. Momma’s lips are pursed and turned to one side, her eyes narrowed, and hands resting on her hips. “It was amazing. We had sex on the boat while the kids watched. She’s pregnant, by the way. Wedding’s next week.”

Mom swats me in the chest with the dishtowel she’s still holding in her hand from wiping down the outside tables. “Don’t be smart.”

I wink before leaning across the ice chest and planting a kiss on her cheek. “Some things can’t be helped.” Then, without another word, I cross the yard to join my father at the boiler.

“Mind purging those crawfish while I get the water going, son?” Dad looks like a textbook coonass in his denim overalls and white shit kickers. I’ve always admired the way the man can own a three-piece suit like nobody’s business during the week and return to his Cajun roots when he clocks out for the weekend. Dad’s always made a good living but has never been one to flaunt it. He values the simpler things in life. Those that really matter. Good family, food, and friends. He loves to fish, hunt, and drink his beer while listening to some good zydeco music.

“On it.”

I cut the string at the top of the sack with my pocket knife and dump the crawfish into the big metal tub. After sprinkling a thick layer of salt on top, I grab the hose and begin filling it up with water.

As I watch the crawfish fight their way to the top, I’m reminded of all of the boils we had growing up. I can still picture my dad and Mr. David, Spencer’s father, perfecting their craft. They must have sampled every powder and liquid seasoning combination available, trying different variations with garlic cloves, onions, oranges, lemons, and lime juice. You name it, they probably tried it, eventually settling on the method we still use today. Weekends during crawfish season were spent back here beneath the mossy oaks. Spence and I running around in swimsuits through the sprinklers. Our fathers drinking their Bud Light and arguing over football and fishing spots, and really anything and everything. If you didn’t know those two ornery bastards, you’d swear they hated each other. But, Dad and David grew up on the same dead end street, and just like Spencer and me, had been best friends their entire lives. Best friends who I don’t think ever agreed on anything but the best way to boil a batch of crawfish.

“You know you don’t have to do that.” My body tenses up, her voice pouring over me like liquid sex. She may as well have just asked me to fuck her brains out because my dick is ready to oblige. I shift my legs and discretely adjust myself. God, I am wound so tight from being with Spencer all damned day and not being able to touch her.

Twisting the nozzle to shut off the water hose, I turn around to face her. Spencer’s changed into a pair of short denim shorts and fitted tee with a crawfish on it that says “Cajun Girls Suck the Heads.”

I smile, running my tongue along my teeth. “Don’t have to do what?”

“Why’re you smilin’ at me like that?” Her face blushes and I shrug, enjoying watching her squirm a little. “Uh, you don’t have to purge the crawfish. They say it doesn’t really do anything. You can just rinse ’em with plain ol’ water.”

“Sacrilege!” Pops shouts from his folding chair about ten feet away. He must be straining pretty damned hard to hear our conversation over the noise of the boiler.

Her eyes widen as she calls out, “Hey, Mr. Neal.”

“Hi, sugar,” he greets, walking over to welcome Spence with a tight hug. “Good to have you back.”

“It’s good to be home.” Home. That’s exactly what it feels like. This place hasn’t felt much like home over the past few years. Not with Kristy or whatever girl I had with me to distract myself from Spencer and her kids. God, I’m such an idiot.

“Where’re the boys? I haven’t seen those little rascals in forever,” Dad asks, scanning the backyard.

“They’re coming with Momma. She sent me on ahead to see if y’all needed any help.”

Dad shakes his head with exaggeration. “Unh unh, we don’t need your kind of help. You just sit your pretty little self in a chair, kick your feet up, and let Cooper here bring you a beer. How’s that sound?”

She rests a hand on my father’s shoulder. “That sounds like . . . an old man try’na keep me outta his crawfish,” she says, all dimples.

“I don’t have any idea what you’re talkin’ about, little lady,” he responds with feigned innocence. “I gotta get back to my pot. You two kids enjoy yourselves.” He takes a few steps away before calling back, “Cooper, keep that girl away from our supper.”

“Yes, sir.” I look over at her gaping mouth and laugh.

Her finger jabs my chest. “I’m right, you know.”

“Usually are,” I agree, feeling my heart speed up at her nearness. “Want a beer?” I ask, already turning toward the cooler to grab one for myself.

“Sure.”

No sooner than we’ve sat at the wrought iron table and cracked open our drinks, her momma and kids come strolling across the yard.

“Hey, Cooper,” Mrs. Elaine calls out, waving her hand wildly. “I made my crawfish dip,” she singsongs. Mrs. Elaine raises the dish pointing at it with her other hand and I give her a thumbs up.

Spencer’s momma makes the best dip I’ve ever tasted. Most everyone I know just mixes up some ketchup and mayonnaise, but hers is a mustard and mayonnaise mix with onions and spices. It’s delicious. My mouth’s watering just thinking about it.

Lake and Landon follow their grandmother inside the house, carrying dishes with the savage nipping at their heels.

“Thanks for today,” Spence says, placing her warm hand on top of mine. She squeezes it gently and my skin tingles beneath her touch. “The kids had such a great time.”

“And you?”

“Me?” she smiles. “I’m in the clouds, Cooper James.” Spencer kicks back in her chair, crossing her feet in my lap.

“Please, by all means.” I laugh. “Make yourself comfortable, Princess.”

Her nose scrunches as she pokes out her tongue. “Everyone’s spoilin’ me since I got here. I’m kinda enjoying this new life of leisure.”

I rest my hands on her ankles and massage gently, enjoying the freedom of being able to touch her again. “A real life princess.” I wink. “By the way, I like your shirt,” I add, waggling my eyebrows.

“Hah! I thought you might.”

Just then our mothers and her children file out of the house. Selfishly, I find myself wishing they’d stayed away a little while longer. It felt so good not having to share her for those few minutes. I’m supposed to be trying to get used to the idea of having her kids around, and all I want is to keep her all to myself.

“Spencer!” Momma calls out, rushing over with outstretched arms. Much to my disappointment, Spence pulls her legs from my lap and rises to greet my mother.

“Hi, Mrs. Nelly. Thanks for having us over.”

“Oh, hush, child. Y’all are family.” Momma rubs a few tears from her eyes, and I take that as my cue to run inside.

Placing a hand on the small of Spencer’s back to get her attention, I whisper in her ear, “Be right back.” She nods, never breaking eye contact with Momma, but I don’t miss the way her body shivers, nor the heated look in her eyes.

With a grin I can’t seem to wipe off my face, I rush inside and up to my room to change my shirt. It takes me a few minutes of rifling through drawers before I locate the one I’m looking for.

When I walk back outside, I find Spencer sitting Indian style on the edge of the brick patio. Her back is to me, hunched over as she races monster trucks with Kyle in the dirt. I stand there, feeling the stupid grin overtake my face as I listen to her rev her engine and taunt a two-year-old. A few minutes go by before she senses my presence. Her head whirls in my direction. “He . . .” Her greeting is lost as she looks up and snorts out the most unladylike laugh I have ever heard.

“Somethin’ funny?” I ask with a straight face that’s not easy to maintain.

“That’s awesome.” Spence laughs, pointing to my fresh shirt. It’s a black tee with a single crawfish in the center that says “Suck This.”

“I have to ask you a very serious question, Princess . . .”

“Yeah?”

“Do you consider yourself a true Cajun girl?”

She traps her bottom lip between her teeth as she stands, leaning in real close to whisper, “Guess you’ll have to find out, won’t ya?”

“You’re killin’ me, Spence.”

Savage looks up from his trucks, only just realizing I’m here. “Hi, man! You here!” He jumps up and latches onto my leg. And I’ll be damned if it doesn’t make me feel like a million fucking bucks, even if he is bustin’ my balls.

Spencer and I don’t have much time together after that, the kids and our mothers commanding most of her attention. But, just having her near, hearing her voice, her laugh, seeing her smile feels good. It feels right.

When Pops calls out that it’s time to grub, I fill a tray with crawfish, potatoes, and sausage, setting it down in my spot at the picnic table. Then, I walk over to the cooler to grab a fresh beer and decide to fetch one for Spence as well. I set hers down beside mine and drown a potato in Mrs. Elaine’s dip before lifting it to my mouth. But, before I even take the first bite, I catch a glimpse of Spencer. She’s filling trays for Lake and Landon, all the while telling little dude to hold on and she’ll peel his in just a minute. Everyone else, myself included, is getting ready to stuff our faces, and she can’t even eat.

I never realized before how selfless a job it is to be a mother—always just taking for granted the things my momma did for me. But, as I watch Spencer tend to all of their needs without complaint, I’m in awe of her. It’s a side of Spence I’ve never seen, and rather than feeling jealous over the way they monopolize all of her time, I’m struck with an overwhelming urge to take care of her.

Placing my potato back on the tray, I walk over to where Lake and Landon are waiting for her to bring them their food and drinks. I may be overstepping, but, damn it . . . someone needs to.

“Hey, boys,” I call out, standing next to them at the same wrought iron table Spence and I occupied earlier in the evening.

“Hey, Cooper,” Lake says, smiling, and Landon lifts two fingers from the table in a wave.

“How old are the two of you?”

They look a little confused by the question but answer together, “Twelve.”

I nod. A little younger than I’d suspected but still plenty old enough. “Old enough to dump crawfish onto a tray and grab drinks from a cooler?”

Sounds start sputtering from both of their mouths, like the thought never crossed their minds. I’m sure it hadn’t because it wouldn’t have crossed mine, either. Both of their faces redden with embarrassment. They aren’t bad kids. Just kids, and kids are inherently selfish.

Both boys get up from their chairs without a word, heading over to the coolers to grab their own sodas as two trays slam down onto the table simultaneously, jerking my attention back in that direction.

“Who do you think you are?” The she-devil who has invaded my princess’s body once again demands.

“Your friend?” I ask hesitantly. “Hopefully still with benefits . . .”

“Get over here,” Spencer says as the boys return to the table.

“Ooooooh,” they both chant in unison as she grabs my arm, jerking me around to the side of the house.

“I didn’t mean right this minute, Spence. We can wait to fool around ’til later.” I laugh. She doesn’t.

“You are not their father.”

Whoa. “Trust me, Spence. I am very aware.”

The tips of her ears turn fire red. “How dare you embarrass them like that, huh? They hardly know you. It wasn’t your place to parent my children.”

“I never said I wanted to parent your children.”

Her face blanches, but she recovers quickly. “Mind. Your. Own. Business.”

“You are my business, babe. I care about you and was just trying to help.”

She scoffs. “By once again pointing out all of the ways I suck as a parent? You are overstepping your position.”

My blood is boiling. “And where exactly is my position, Princess? Between your thighs?”

Her hand flies out, connecting with my left cheek, and instantly her face pales. Spencer’s hands cup her open mouth and her eyes well up. “Oh my God. I’m sorry.”

Her hands are all over me, patting my chest, stroking my cheek as she continues to apologize. I grab both of her wrists firmly in mine and hold them down at her sides.

“This isn’t about me embarrassing those boys. This is about you and your need to prove to the world that you can do everything on your own. It’s about control.”

She pulls her lips between her teeth, biting hard to try to stop her tears. “I foolishly thought that friends were allowed to care for one another, but I’ve gotten the message loud and fucking clear, Spencer. Call me when you’re ready for me to assume my position. Until then, I’ll back right the fuck off.”

I leave her standing there and ignore the looks that our meddling parents are giving me from the table as I make my way through the front door.

She’s been home two fucking days and we’re already at each other’s throats. I knew she’d be a little upset about my correcting her children, but I didn’t expect that. How the hell am I supposed to bond with her kids and win her back if she won’t let me in? If all she wants is someone to screw when the mood strikes?

“Goddamnit!” I shout, punching the frame to my bedroom door before slamming it shut.