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Levi was as animated as ever, and his fork waved around frantically as he jabbered on about how he’d won superhero tag-you’re-it, and how he’d had chocolate milk for breakfast. That earned me an arched eyebrow, but I only pursed my lips together and shrugged. It was easy to tell after just a few minutes, though, that Levi was easily going to fall into his plate of lasagna if one of us didn’t clean him up and get him into bed. The boy’s eyes were heavy-lidded, and his head drifted forward, bobbing slightly whenever he wasn’t talking.
“Someone’s tired.” Samantha put her own fork down and pushed her chair out. “Bedtime?” She held her arms out to him.
Levi shook his head. “Cooper.”
“You’ll get to see him tomorrow. He lives right next door, remember?” she assured him with a smile.
“You can count on it, little man.” I reached over, holding out a palm for him to high-five.
Levi did, but he shook his head. “No. Cooper’ll tuck me in.”
I could have cut the tension in the room with a knife. I didn’t know what to say, and I damn sure didn’t know what Samantha would have to say about her son’s request.
She paused, her gaze flickering over to me only briefly, but finally she nodded. “If he wants to, pal, Cooper can. Sure.” She took a step back, waiting for my own reaction.
If this was some kind of test, I wasn’t sure whether I passed or failed, but I leaped from my chair dramatically, pushing Levi’s chair out and scooping him up in one fluid movement. He erupted in a fit of giggles as I held him high in the air. “Want to?” I said. “I’d be honored to tuck you in!”
I made a game of it, first setting him up on the kitchen counter to wipe the tomato sauce from his face, then popping him up onto my shoulders as we made our way down the hallway. I stole a quick glance at Samantha, and sh
e was watching me—just as I knew she would be—but I couldn’t read her.
I emerged from the little boy’s bedroom a few minutes later, and I tried to make a joke of it, brushing my hands off as though I’d just accomplished the world’s biggest feat. “His pajamas don’t match, and he might be asking for chocolate milk as a bedtime snack, but his teeth are brushed and he’s under the covers. He’s all yours, Mama Bear.”
“You bet he is.” She smirked as she passed by me and headed down the hallway, but there was amusement etched in her features.
I busied myself by cleaning off the kitchen table and beginning to stack dishes into the dishwasher. I was just sifting through the cupboard under the sink, looking for the bottle of detergent I’d unpacked earlier, when Samantha’s voice cut through the silence.
“So, you babysit, you clean, you can cook like a dream, and my son thinks you’re Superman. Tell me, what’s wrong with you?”
I rose to my feet, turning to face her. Samantha leaned against the counter, staring at me with a renewed interest. There was no venom in her words. It was a straightforward, serious question.
I leaned forward as though to tell her a deep, dark secret. “Maybe I am Superman,” I whispered.
She rolled her eyes, but she laughed quietly, and I considered that a positive sign. “You know what I mean,” she said.
I took her in, leaned against that counter in her black slacks and fitted V-neck blouse, her auburn hair tied back tightly at the base of her skull. I wanted to reach out and untie it, letting her glossy locks fall freely past her shoulders, framing her pretty face.
Instead, I purposely leaned across in front of her and plucked Levi’s Lightning McQueen cup from the counter, tossing it into the dishwasher. “You think I’m going to tell you what’s wrong with me after you’ve just painted such a flawless picture?” I said wryly.
I poured liquid detergent into the dispenser, closed the dishwasher, and turned it on. When I turned back toward Samantha, she hadn’t moved, or spoken.
“Why does there have to be anything wrong with me?” I laughed, realizing she’d been serious.
“The term too good to be true is floating around in my mind, Cooper,” she admitted. “And I’ve just been burned by someone, so I—”
“Levi’s father?” I pulled a dish towel from the drawer in which I’d put them in earlier, trying to make my questions sound less like an interrogation and more like innocent conversation.
“Yes, as a matter of fact.” There was an edge to her voice at the mere mention of him.
I nodded, purposely matching her stance, my back against the counter, one foot crossed in front of the other. “Mind if I ask what the deal is with you two?”
“If I said I did mind, would that stop you from asking again?”
“If I said no, would you throw me out of here?”
Samantha’s lips curved up at the corners. “Not until you were done cleaning up, at least.”
“Ouch.” I grinned, rolling up the dish towel and snapping it playfully at her shin.
