Despite Cooper’s earlier doubts, our chicken casserole is coming together quite well.
I might have had quite the learning curve when it came to cooking once Cooper came into my life, considering I was never taught how to cook a single thing in my entire life and wasn’t at all interested in teaching myself, but ten years later, I’m not half-bad.
At least that’s what I’m told. The jury is still out on whether that’s the truth or a little white lie to make me feel better.
Spaghetti, tacos, and barbecued burgers are the only three things I’ve successfully mastered, so to speak, but it’s better than the cold hot dogs and cereal I started with.
Cooper sidles up beside me and eyes the dish full of layered chicken, rice, and broccoli with suspicion. I set the brick of cheese I was shredding on the counter and push a few curls out of his face.
“What do you think? Edible?” I ask.
He scrunches his nose. “Did you season the chicken?”
“’Course I did.” I think.
“I didn’t see you season it,” he says.
“Then why didn’t you say anything while it was cooking in the frying pan?”
“I didn’t notice until now, looking at it and how plain it looks. It’s going to taste like rubber.”
I huff a breath. “It won’t taste like rubber.”
“Yes it will. You always forget the seasonings, and it always tastes like rubber.”
“Ouch. Don’t take it easy on me because I’m your dad or anything,” I mutter.
He looks up at me, batting his thick eyelashes. “I thought I wasn’t supposed to lie? Are you saying the rules have changed?”
I press my fingers to my temples and move them in slow circles. “You’re going to make me a silver fox years before I’m ready.”
“There’s always hair dye.”
“You have an answer for everything, huh?”
He grins. “Always.”
I laugh and push the half-full bowl of cheese toward him before shredding more. “Spread that on the top while I finish the rest.”
“Got it, Captain.”
“It’s Dad, shithead.”
A dramatic gasp. “Did you just call me a shithead?”
“Hey, watch your language,” I chastise. My lips twitch.
“I can’t wait until I’m too old for you to tell me that,” he sighs.
I snicker. “You’ll never be too old for a good ol’ scolding, Coop.”
“You need a girlfriend or something.”
“What?” I sputter. Talk about coming at me from left field. “What do you know about girlfriends? You don’t have one, right?”
He fake gags. “No way.”
“Good.” I relax. “You shouldn’t have a girlfriend until you’re at least twenty-seven.”
“Twenty-seven?” His eyes go wide.
“Yep. Focus on your music and art for as long as you can with no distractions.” I pass him the rest of the shredded cheese and start cleaning up the mess on the counter.
“I’m not interested in girls right now anyway, Dad. I was talking about you,” he states, not seeming to want to let this go anytime soon.
Deciding to entertain him, I say, “Okay, so you think a girlfriend will what? Keep me from telling you to behave?”
“Well, if you have another person to focus on, then maybe. But it would be nice for you to have someone else to talk to sometimes. You never go out after work unless it’s to see Aunt Ava and Uncle Lee or someone you work with.”
Silence falls in the kitchen.
Is he really that perceptive, or have I been that obvious? Christ.
It’s not like I’m a hermit. I do go out and spend time with other human beings. But maybe he’s not completely off base. If I’m not with Oakley and Ava, or Banks and Brie, or even Beth, I’m at home with Cooper. I didn’t think there was anything wrong with that, and there isn’t, but now that I think about it, I’m realizing that Scarlett has been the only woman in years I’ve spent time without outside of that small group of people.
The only woman I’ve wanted to spend time with.
The weight of that slams into my chest, winding me. I drop the collection of dirty utensils and measure cups into the sink and grip the edge of the counter.
What does that even mean? She’s my employee and someone that I’ve grown to care about. Sure, we have chemistry. I might have fallen a bit out of touch with women over the last few years, but I’m not dead. And I would have to be not to feel that there’s something incredibly palpable between us. Like a live wire connects the both of us.
But that’s just sexual energy that sparks between two people who are attracted to each other. And I am incredibly attracted to Scarlett, there’s no denying that. From her freckle-covered cheeks and bright blue eyes to her round, tight ass and muscled thighs, there isn’t a single thing about her that doesn’t drive me fucking crazy.
And if the circumstances were different, maybe I would have acted on that attraction. Maybe I would already know what she feels like beneath me and if that frown of hers disappears when I’m balls-deep and she’s coming on my cock.
That’s not how this can go, though. Sex leads to feelings, and feelings lead to trouble. I have Cooper to think about now. Even if he does believe I need a woman in my life, I can’t risk it right now.
The sound of the front door opening and closing has me pulling back out of my thoughts. My hands are sweaty on the counter when I drop them to my sides.
“Dad?” Cooper asks cautiously, almost timidly.
“You’re right, kid. I do need to go out more,” I admit. There’s no denying that.
“I do like having you around all the time. I didn’t mean it like I didn’t.”
With a sigh, I reach over and rub his back. “I know. You wouldn’t know what to do without your old man.”
“I can’t believe we were at the store and forgot garlic bread. That’s the most crucial part of a good dinner,” Beth shouts from the front door. Bare feet slap the floor, getting louder and louder until she enters the kitchen.
I quickly put the casserole in the oven and set the cooking timer. Turning to the kitchen island, I watch her place a grocery bag and a bottle of white wine on the counter.
“Did you get the loaf or the slices?” Cooper asks, peeking into the bag. He fist pumps the air before pulling out a thick loaf of bread. “Hell ya!”
“What do you take me for? A rookie?” Beth juts a hip.
Cooper grins and moves to the oven, grabbing a baking sheet from the bottom drawer and getting the bread set up.
Beth turns to me and points to the wine. “Corkscrew? I figured I would pick this up while I was out. You still like wine, right?”
“I do. But I would have been happy to have soda with you.”
I don’t drink while Beth is around because I don’t see the point in teasing it in front of her knowing she shouldn’t consume alcohol. It’s not a loss, considering I’m not a big drinker.
Regardless, I grab a corkscrew from the drawer before finding a glass and grabbing her a soda from the fridge. After I have everything, I toss her the corkscrew and a can of Coke and set down my glass. Her brows furrow with concentration as she yanks out the cork.
“What were you boys up to while I was gone? It was so quiet when I got in that I thought you might have left,” she says while setting the cork off to the side.
I take the bottle from her and start filling my glass. “Cooper was just expressing concern for my social life.”
“I told him he needs a girlfriend,” he adds bluntly.
Beth laughs. “Welcome to the club, sweetheart. I’ve been telling him that for the past year.”
“And I tell you that I’m fine without one every single time you do.”
“And then I tell you that you have too much love in your heart to only give it to the two of us,” she sings.
Cooper moves to the sink to wash the grease from the garlic loaf off his hands. When he uses way too much soap, I can’t fight off my smile. “Mom has a good point.”
“You know, it’s usually the kid that doesn’t want their parent to date someone new. Why aren’t you like a normal kid pitching a fit right now? Where’s the ‘this isn’t fair’ argument?”
“I’ve always been mature for my age.”
“Does that mean I can stop asking you to rinse off your dishes before they go in the dishwasher instead of having to remind you every day?” I ask. He scowls.
“See? This is exactly why you need a girlfriend. I need someone on my side, and Mom is too biased because she’s my mom.”
Beth watches us with a warm smile that shows she’s happy to be here with us, even if this is all we’re doing. I lift my glass to my lips and smile over the rim at her.
“What makes you think my imaginary girlfriend would take your side?” I ask him, darting my eyes just in time to catch him carefully pulling a bottle of blue Gatorade out of the fridge. “There’s no way that you have a blue Gatorade in your hand. You wouldn’t dare try and swipe my flavour, right?”
He gulps and slowly puts it back in the fridge before pulling out a different bottle. “Blue? No. This is orange, old man.”
Beth shakes her head. “You are both ridiculous.”
“Not ridiculous. Just particular about my sports drinks,” I mutter.”
“More like greedy.” Cooper sniffs. “Maybe a girlfriend could teach you how to share.”
I groan. “Enough about a girlfriend, okay? Let me focus on spoiling and embarrassing you with my love.”
Beth smacks a palm on the counter. I jolt in surprise, whipping my head to stare at her. Mischief taints her smile. “I nearly forgot to ask what’s going on with you and that red-headed woman from the store? Is she the reason you’re so against the idea of getting a girlfriend?” She gasps, covering her hand with her mouth. “Are you dating her?”
I ignore most of what she says, fixating on one thing. My voice is low with a warning when I say, “Her name is Scarlett, not ‘that red-headed woman.’”
Beth’s eyes bulge, and it’s Cooper that speaks next. “We’ll take that reaction as a yes.”
I shut my eyes and take a deep breath. Frustration builds and builds beneath my skin, but it isn’t only from their relentless poking. It’s also from the flapping sensation in my stomach at the idea of Scarlett and girlfriend being used in the same sentence. Not good. At. All.
“Oh my God,” Beth says. Her open mouth does little to hide her surprise. “You do like her. I swore I felt the connection between you two but thought maybe I was just making things up. Holy crap.”
I narrow my eyes. “Why are you both acting as if me liking a woman is some unbelievable idea? I’m incredibly offended right now.”
“So you do like her?” Cooper asks smugly.
“He does,” Beth answers for me. They high-five over the island.
I throw my hands up. “I’m not talking about this anymore.”
“Because we’re right.” Cooper initiates another high-five.
“Because my love life is my business and not yours,” I correct him.
He doesn’t drop it. “And because we’re right.”
“Cooper,” I huff.
“Fine,” he sighs, dragging out the word. “But in case you were wondering, I think she’s nice. I haven’t met a bad person that likes both my favourite flavours of ice cream.”
“And how many of those people have you met in your whole twelve years of life?” I counter.
His glare is sharp. “Tons.”
“Who, pray tell, are those ‘tons’?”
“Adam,” Beth interrupts with a giggle. “How long until dinner?”
I raise a brow as if to ask if this is her way of changing the subject.
“We need to know when to put the garlic bread in, right, Coop?”
He nods. “Right.”
“Have you guys cut the lettuce for the salad yet?” Beth asks him.
“Not yet.”
And just like that, the topic is dropped. If only I could shake my new curiosity about Scarlett just as easily. Instead, I’m left with an itch that I won’t be able to scratch until Monday when I see her again.
