The Real Mr. Right Read online

  “Nah, I’m good.” They moved on to the next cabinet. “You still got a thing for her? Kelly, I mean? And don’t tell me you didn’t, we all knew.”

  Déjà vu, Matt had it. His gaze shot to his brother’s profile and his brother’s expression was almost as smug as Sabrina’s had been. “Even you?”

  Ty laughed over the whirring of the drill, then looked down at Matt. “You kidding? Especially me. Especially once I hit puberty—or it, me—and I was frustrated as hell that she treated me like a little kid.”

  “You were a little kid.”

  “My hormones would’ve begged to differ.”

  “Yeah, you were really suffering. Since, as I recall, even at that tender age you had your fair share of girlfriends. More than your fair share. How many bat mitzvahs did you get invited to that year?”

  “Ah, but my heart belonged to a certain lovely redhead. However, since by then even I knew better than to encroach on my brother’s territory, I let it go.”

  “Big of you. Since, as you say, you were nine.” Ty shrugged. “Also...territory?”

  His brother drilled in the next screw. “Whatever—”

  “And second, Kelly wasn’t my anything.”

  “Yeah, I finally figured that out.” Ty dug another screw out of his tool apron, shaking his head. “And you had it all going on, too. Star quarterback, reasonably good-looking, not in the seventh grade.... Man, I hated you,” he said with a grin, then frowned. “And yet you never did make a move, did you? God, you were dumb.”

  “I made a move,” Matt said, earning him raised eyebrows. “Okay, I indicated I might make a move. You know how that goes.”

  “Not really, no. Subtle’s not my style.”

  “So we’ve noticed.”

  Ty ignored him. “So you admit it, then? That you liked her?”

  “Since we’re talking a hundred years ago, yeah, what the hell.”

  “And what happened?”

  “Not a damn thing.” Because, as his sister had so succinctly put it, he’d been an idiot. Then again, if “everyone” supposedly knew about his interest in Kelly except Kelly, something sure as hell hadn’t been working. “Signal boomeranged right back to smack me between the eyes.”

  “Well, that sucks.” Ty climbed down from the stepstool, went to the old black fridge for a soda. Both dogs looked up. On the off chance a ham jumped out or something. “And now?” Ty said, popping the tab.

  Matt shrugged. “And now is now.”

  “Meaning?”

  “That you’re looking for something that’s not there?”

  “Oh, it’s there, all right. Seriously—why else are you renting her an apartment in your own house? And redoing the kitchen when you’d said you weren’t going to for at least a year, because you said you weren’t ready to be a landlord. Not to mention going with her to her ex-husband’s funeral. Which, by the way, is sorta creepy. If you ask me.”

  “Which I didn’t,” Matt said, wondering if, in a previous life, the dude had been part of the Inquisition. “And did it maybe occur to you that I’m doing all this because for a long time Kelly was Sabrina’s best friend, and she feels like family? And also maybe because I’m a nice guy who sees someone—three someones, actually—who could use a little support right now? They need a place to live, I have a place to rent. Some people might call that serendipity.”

  “Or stupidity—”

  His brother’s phone rang. As Ty answered it, Matt yanked open the fridge to get his own can of pop, praying the cold air would blast the heat from his face, the even hotter words logjammed in his throat. He loved his brother, but Tyler’s habit of acting like his tough early years had made him some kind of life expert got on Matt’s last nerve.

  Especially when the punk’s observations hit way closer to home than Matt would have liked—

  “Yeah, I’ll be right there. Crisis at the shop,” Ty said as he slipped on his parka. “Gotta go back for a few. Don’t mean to leave you in a lurch, though, so see you later?”

  Matt took a deep breath, then nodded. Guy couldn’t help being a buttinsky, that was just who he was. Also a helluva lot better at installing cabinets that Matt. “Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks.”

  “No problem.” His brother whistled for Boomer—twice—before the dog woke up, staggered to his feet and reluctantly trudged after his master.

  With a sigh, Matt slid down onto the tiled floor, his back propped on the pockmarked wall where a base cabinet would go. Alf roused herself enough to make the ten-foot journey across the kitchen, collapsing beside her daddy with her chin on his outstretched leg, sympathy shining in her golden eyes. Massaging the spot between the dog’s ears, Matt let his head drop back, his brother’s words replaying in his head.

  Because for all Matt’s good intentions, for all he really did want to help someone who obviously needed a leg up right now, this was stupid, he was stupid, for trying to act like some white knight. Especially since Kelly had made it more than plain that she needed, or wanted, a white knight in her life like she wanted lice. And you know what? Good for her. God knew there were any number of women out there who could learn from her example.

  So why couldn’t he simply step back and let her get on with it?

  Matt exhaled. Loudly. Alf lifted her head, tail tentatively swiping the dusty floor. Fine, so he was attracted to her. Still. And again. He was gun-shy, not dead. And seeing the fire in her eyes as she’d talked the other night, watching her ripen into something strong and fierce and powerful right before his eyes...

  Huge turn-on, that. Seriously.

  However.

  Matt forked his fingers into the dog’s ruff while she licked his other hand. One thing about dogs, they were great listeners, but without that whole annoying, poking-their-noses-in thing.

  “First off—” he looked down at his trusty companion, just to make sure she was paying attention “—neither one of us is even remotely interested in a relationship.” Alf planted a supersize paw on Matt’s lap, although whether in empathy or hope food might be involved, he wasn’t sure. “Why? I’ll tell you why. Because I screw them up, and Kelly’s got her hands full getting her own head on straight. Right?” The dog barked. “Damn right. And the kids... Cooper...”

  Yeah.

  Alf hoisted herself upright enough to bestow a slobbery kiss across Matt’s jaw. Disgusting, but loyal. Not unlike a lot of his buds in college, come to think of it. He’d only traded up was all.

  Scrubbing away dog spit with his sweatshirt sleeve, Matt leaned back again, his eyes shut as he listened to Alf’s panting in his ear, and firmly reminded himself that being lonely was no excuse for being an idiot.

  But he still wasn’t about to let Kelly go to this funeral by herself.

  Chapter Five

  Cooper guessed Mom had made a lot of the food on the table, since there was a whole bunch of stuff he didn’t recognize. Actually, there was so much he could barely see Grandma’s lace tablecloth underneath. How many people had she expected to show up, anyway?

  Not that they would’ve fit. The place she moved into after Grandpa died...it was really little. So little, in fact, that when Coop and Linnie would stay here on the weekends after Dad moved in with Grandma, Linnie would sleep with her and Coop got the pullout sofa. Instead of sharing Dad’s bed, which...nuh-uh. Even though he used to climb in bed with Mom and Dad on Saturday mornings when he was littler, and the bed would be all warm and smell like Mom’s perfume, and Dad would tickle him with his whiskery face....

  Coop cleared his throat, trying not to think about back then. About when everything had felt good. Before Dad lost his job and they had to leave their house, where Coop had had his own room and there’d been a big backyard, and Dad had promised that when he turned five, they’d get a dog. Except then everything went to heck in a handbask
et, as Grandma would say.

  He’d been so mad at first. At both of them. For breaking their promise or something. ’Course, he knew plenty of other kids whose parents got divorced, he just never thought it would happen to him—

  Man, his brain felt as crowded as this table, crammed with all these half-finished thoughts. He almost wished he was little again, when he’d wake up in the morning and pretty much know how his day would go. When stuff didn’t change like every five minutes.

  Like how they were moving for real to Maple River to live in that apartment in Matt’s house. So they’d be starting over again. Although at least he’d have his own room this time. And maybe he could go back to school, because it was getting kind of boring with just him and Mom. Also, Matt said he could hang out with Alf as much as he wanted, so there was that.

  Coop put a little ham sandwich on his plastic plate, a few chips, but he really didn’t feel much like eating. Except food usually made him feel better, so that was strange. But the past few days, it felt like somebody’d unplugged his stomach.

  However, since he didn’t want Mom or Grandma to get on his case, he took a bite of the sandwich, then scootched around a bunch of people to get back to the sofa. Only the bite had turned into this big, gloppy lump in his mouth, and he’d forgotten to get something to drink, and he didn’t want to get up again because at least he was kind of invisible here. Seriously, if one more relative he didn’t know started in about how sorry they were, about how brave he was, he was going to lose it.

  He forced himself to swallow, trying not to make a face when he took another bite. Across the room, Mom was listening to someone Cooper guessed she didn’t much want to listen to as she held Aislin, who’d passed out in her arms. Mouth open and everything. In a dark gray suit, Matt stood next to his mother like some kind of guard, and Cooper made that face, anyway.

  Matt was okay, he guessed. But what was up with him coming to his dad’s funeral like he was a real friend or something? Yeah, he and Mom had known each other when they were kids, but how close could they be if Coop had never even heard of him before last week? And now they were all going to live in his house...?

  He hated that black dress Mom was wearing—it made her skin look way too white, like some creepy vampire. And this suit Grandma had dug up from somewhere, she said it’d been his father’s when he was little, it didn’t fit right. And was itchy as heck. A second later, like Mom could hear him thinking, she looked over, gave Coop a little smile. He tried to smile back but it probably looked totally fake.

  Which made sense, since nothing felt real.

  Like he’d gotten stuck in some weird dream. Partly because he still couldn’t believe Dad was dead, but also because nobody was acting normal. Except maybe for Aislin, but she was only three, what did she know? Mom had warned him that at some point she’d probably ask where Dad was, but she hadn’t yet, as far as Coop knew.

  And what was he supposed to say if she did?

  Blowing out a big breath, he looked down at his plate. Which was empty. Meaning now he was really thirsty. So he got up and went to the kitchen, ignoring Matt’s eyes practically burning a hole in his back. Grandma was standing by the stove, holding a tissue to her nose, her eyes all puffy and red. Cooper pretended not to notice.

  Except she noticed him, of course, swooping down to give him a hug. Usually Coop didn’t mind—she was soft and smelled good, and hugs were nice—but now she squeezed him so hard it almost hurt.

  “Ow! Grandma!”

  “Sorry, sweetheart!” Making a funny little noise, she let go. “Don’t know my own strength.” She poked her fingers through his hair. “You need something, honey?”

  He thought about asking for a soda—she would have totally given him one—but instead said, “Water?”

  “In the fridge, help yourself.” She went back to arranging another plate of food, the ends of her hair—brown, like Coop’s—swishing around her shoulders. In the light coming through the kitchen window, he could see little silver streaks he’d never noticed before. Actually, she was really pretty—for somebody in her fifties, anyway—but today she looked...faded.

  He supposed they all did.

  Twisting the cap off his water, Coop returned to the living room as Matt was taking Aislin from Mom, and he remembered when the baby was really tiny and she’d cry and cry and cry until Mom would be crying, too, and Dad would come home and take the baby, singing to her in this really goofy voice....

  He heard this strange sound, like somebody was being choked, only to realize he was making that noise, that he was crying like a little kid. And everybody was looking at him. Everybody.

  He ran to his grandmother’s bedroom and slammed the door shut, twisting the knob until it clicked.

  * * *

  “Coop?” Her heart pounding, Kelly softly knocked on her mother-in-law’s bedroom door. Cooper had never locked himself into a room before, not even when Rick was acting like a total ass. “Honey? Open the door, I need to know you’re okay.”

  “I’m fine. Go away.”

  Of course he wasn’t fine, why would he be? His father had died barely a week ago, for heaven’s sake, she was moving the kid away from everything he knew—

  She sensed Matt come up behind her—speaking of unresolved issues—and heard Aislin’s sleepy “Mommy?” Kelly reached for her daughter, except the little girl squirmed to get down...and made a beeline for the food table. Because...oh, God. When had she last fed her child?

  “She’s probably hungry—”

  “On it,” Matt said. “Anything off-limits?”

  Kelly shook her head. Although, sadly, not hard enough to rearrange her brain cells. “Just make sure she doesn’t take too large a bite....”

  But he was already gone. And Linnie was already charming the pants off a dozen old aunts and cousins who needed a little sunshine on this gloomy day. Such tching and head-wagging she’d never seen. “To be taken so young,” she heard over and over to poor Lynn. “Such a shame.” At least Kelly, being the One Who’d Divorced Him, had been spared that much.

  Of course, they didn’t know the whole truth, that their “sweet Ricky” had turned into someone none of them would have known. That Rick wouldn’t have known himself, if only he’d taken a good, long look in the mirror. Or his soul.

  “I’m not going away, Coop,” Kelly said, crossing her arms over the sucky black dress she’d finally found at the mall, hideous and hideously overpriced for something she’d never wear again. But at least the aunts couldn’t say she looked like some hussy on the make. Well, they could, they could say anything they liked. And unfortunately Matt’s insistence on coming along did provide them with a certain, ah, ammunition. Or, in ninetysomething Aunt Myrtle’s case, a little thrill. Damned if Kelly didn’t catch the old girl checking out Matt’s butt. And giggling.

  Anyway. What was true was true. And what wasn’t wasn’t.

  And what was true right now was that her son, who’d shown virtually no emotion over his father’s death in the entire week previous, had now locked himself in his grandmother’s bedroom to, she presumed, have his overdue breakdown. So Matt’s hyperactive pheromones could go play in somebody else’s sandbox already.

  Kelly leaned her now-aching head against the door. Hard, but cool. And solid. So solid... “Coop. Now.”

  Seconds passed before the lock finally tumbled, and Kelly released a breath. She scooted inside, pushing the door only partly shut behind her—it was stuffy as hell in here, Lynn kept the heat on full blast, yeesh—before tugging Coop down beside her on Lynn’s comforter-swathed bed, wrapping him up tight in her arms to rest her chin in his curls. She’d been praising him so long for being such a big boy that she forgot, sometimes, how little he still was. That eight-year-olds weren’t generally equipped to deal with this many life changes in such a short period of time, never mind what “
they” said about kids being resilient. And here she was about to move him into yet another new home, his third in as many years.

  A decision, she reminded herself as she inhaled his children’s shampoo scent, she wouldn’t have made if she hadn’t truly believed it was for the best. For all of them. But would Coop see it that way?

  He’d stopped crying, but seemed in no hurry to pull away. Which, despite the reason behind his reluctance, melted her heart. Moments like this would only become more rare as he got older, so she’d best treasure them while she could.

  “Here—” Kelly sat him up, tugged off the ridiculous suit coat. “This thing is so not you.” The coat tossed behind them, she pulled him close again. “So. Talk?”

  His shoulders bumped. “You’re busy.”

  Kelly leaned back, tapped his nose. “You come first, pookie-bear. You know that.”

  He groaned. And rolled his eyes. “Mom. You really need to stop calling me that.” Teen-in-training, heaven help her. But at least the cloud had lifted for the moment.

  “Sorry, no can do. Because you’ll always be my pookie-bear. Even when you’re all grown up and have kids of your own.” At his horrified expression, she laughed. “Okay, so I’ll only call you that when we’re alone. Deal?”

  “Do I get a vote?”

  “Sure. But since I’m bigger, I get two.”

  Then he did pull away. But not from annoyance, she guessed. He sat forward, his feet dangling over the carpet. Standard-issue condo beige, Kelly noted. Boring but safe. Like the life she’d planned on having—

  “I suddenly thought about Dad,” Coop said softly, then looked up at her. “How he used to be. Before. And...it hurt. A lot.”

  “I know, sweetie. Believe me, I know.”

  He shoved up his glasses. “How come he changed so much?”

  Oh, boy. “Well...I think your dad had a set idea about how things were going to go—with his life, I mean—and when they didn’t go that way he didn’t know how to adapt. How to go with the flow.”