Making a Comeback. Kristina Mathews
sweatshirt. Not exactly a popular choice in this part of the state, but they had won the World Series last October. Without him. “I’m Sophie. This is Olivia. We’re twins.”
Olivia was pink, from the giant pink daisy clipped into her hair to some kind of tutu she wore over leggings tucked into pink cowgirl boots. She moved closer to her sister and looked up at him almost as if she thought he was the big, bad wolf.
“My sister’s shy.” Sophie gave her twin a shove. “Say ‘hi’ to our neighbor.”
“Hi.” Olivia looked down at the ground. Her little cheeks turned the same color as her tutu.
“So do you know where our mom is?” Sophie was not shy at all.
“No. I’m afraid I don’t.” He knew who their mom was. Annabelle Jones. The Annabelle Jones. One of the hottest models to ever grace the cover of Sports Illustrated. Damn.
He’d taken one look at her picture and fallen instantly in lust with her perfect combination of girl-next-door sweetness and a rocking hot body. Blonde, blue-eyed and… well, built was quite an understatement.
When the real Annabelle Jones moved in next door, he’d kept his distance. Partly because she was the picture of perfection in the pages of a magazine. She was his fantasy. Untouchable. Flawless. He didn’t want to see her taking out the trash in her pajamas. Not even in silk pajamas from Victoria’s Secret.
But mostly, he didn’t get too close to her because he didn’t want her to get too close to him. He didn’t want her to figure out who he was. And how he’d let down his teammates, his sport, and his fans.
So he’d smiled and waved when they saw each other on the street, nodded politely when she’d suggested they get together for coffee sometime, but he always found an excuse to put her off.
“She’s s’posed to meet us at the bus stop, but she had a job.” Sophie put her little hands on her hips. “I thought she asked you to come instead.”
“No. I haven’t talked to her today.” He’d spoken to her maybe a half dozen times since he’d received her mail by mistake. She hadn’t recognized him, so he’d pretended not to recognize her. He had grown his former military-cut hair out, and was contemplating a beard. She was as gorgeous as always, and way out of his league.
“That’s okay. I know where the key is.” She shrugged and grabbed her sister’s hand to start walking home.
“Sophie!” Olivia’s eyes widened. “We’re not supposed to cross the street without a grown-up.”
“He’s a grown-up.” Sophie tilted her head in his direction.
“Yeah, but he’s not our grown-up.” Olivia snuck a glance up at him before turning back to her sister. “He’s a stranger.”
“You’re not a stranger, are you mister?” Sophie looked at him with an innocent, trusting expression. “We’ve seen you talking to our mom and stuff.”
“I’m Cooper, from next door.” He had no business taking charge of two little girls. But he couldn’t exactly leave them there at the bus stop. “Let’s go find your mom.”
He checked the traffic, looking both ways. Sophie took his hand without hesitation as they started to cross. But it was when Olivia slipped her tiny hand in his that he realized just how fragile trust was.
When they got to the house, Annabelle’s Mercedes was still missing from the driveway. Sophie marched up the steps and tried the door. It was locked. She trotted around the house to the back door. Cooper had no choice but to follow.
“Sophie, you shouldn’t show anyone where Mom keeps the key.” Olivia’s trust wasn’t complete. She was fine with him helping them cross the street, but drew the line at him knowing where they kept the spare key.
“I’ll close my eyes.” He stood between the girls and the driveway, closed his eyes, and listened as Sophie rummaged through the flowerpot next to the back door.
“I got it.” The little girl proudly held the key in her hand. He tried not to notice the frog figurine that had been knocked over. Not the most secure place to keep a key. But then, he supposed having a hide-a-key anywhere wasn’t a good idea. Especially for a woman living alone with two young girls. A protective instinct rose inside him.
This was already more than he’d bargained for. It was one thing to get them off the bus and help them cross the street. He didn’t want to follow them into their home, but they were too young to be left alone. The only other choice would be to take the girls to his place, but that wasn’t an option. He had a lot of weights lying around and nothing kid-friendly to eat. What little kids liked almonds, avocados, and kale?
He followed the two girls through the back door into their kitchen.
It was a warm, friendly space, with hand-picked flowers in the window over the sink, candid photos and the girls’ drawings pinned to the fridge. A bowl of fruit sat on the center of the round kitchen table. He could almost smell cookies baking, but he knew the oven wasn’t on. No one was home.
“So, do you girls have homework?” The cozy, happy-family vibe of the kitchen didn’t fit with the idea of a woman who would forget her children at the bus stop. But then again, maybe this happened all the time, and that was the reason Sophie was so comfortable going off with a near-stranger.
“No, silly. It’s Friday.” Sophie laughed and dragged a chair over to the pantry. She stood on it to help herself to a snack.
Cooper glanced at Olivia. He had a feeling she’d call her sister on any unauthorized snack choices.
Turned out the girl grabbed the kind of snack he’d choose for himself—a jar of organic peanut butter and whole grain bread. She carried them over to the counter and pulled a butter knife out of the drawer.
“Do you need any help?” Cooper offered. He felt like he should be doing something. Here he was in Annabelle Jones’ kitchen, supervising snack time for her daughters. He wondered if she had a phone book, but even if she did, chances were she wouldn’t have put her own cell number in it.
“Nope.” She opened a drawer at the bottom of the cabinets and pulled out two pink plastic plates and matching cups. She gave her sister a look and Olivia grabbed a gallon of organic milk out of the refrigerator.
The cordless phone on the counter rang. Caller ID showed Jones, Annabelle. He picked up, hoping Annabelle wouldn’t be too freaked out that a man answered instead of one of her daughters.
“This is Officer Garcia with the California Highway Patrol.” A concerned male voice came on the line. “Am I speaking to Mr. Jones?”
“No. Miss Jones is not married.” At least, her husband wasn’t living with her. And he’d heard she’d filed for divorce. Cooper felt his stomach knot. He instinctively turned away from the girls.
“Is there someone in her immediate family I can speak to?”
Cooper took the phone out to the back porch. He kept an eye on the twins but didn’t want them to overhear what was obviously bad news.
“Her immediate family members are minors. I’m caring for her young children.” He called up the kind of steady nerves he’d needed coming into a game with the bases loaded and nobody out. “Tell me what I need to know.”
“Miss Jones has been involved in a traffic accident. She’s being transported by ambulance to University Trauma Center.”
Cooper sank against the porch railing as the officer relayed the address of the hospital. He pulled out his own phone and searched for the phone number.
After hanging up with the CHP officer, he checked in on the girls and saw they were happily chatting as they ate their peanut butter sandwiches and washed them down with cold glasses of milk.
Taking a deep breath, he dialed the hospital. Claiming to be Annabelle’s