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“No, it’s Andrew. Like me.”
“Do you work for the team?” I can already tell that I’m in for a bunch of questions, and that doesn’t bother me at all.
“Yep. I’m a coach.”
“But you’re not a player? You look like a player.”
“Used to be.” I smile at him. “How about you? Do you play any sports?”
“Soccer right now. Hey, you should come to my game tomorrow. It’s going to be a lot of fun. I’ll probably score a lot of goals.”
This kid doesn’t have any confidence issues.
“I might just do that.”
“Have you ever played soccer?”
“Sure, when I was about your age. I like to watch it on TV, too.”
“Me, too! Mom watches with me sometimes. It’s cool.”
“Does Miss Quinn stay with you a lot?”
“Only when Mom has to go do stuff for work.” He shrugs and picks up a controller. “I heard her tell Uncle Rome that she doesn’t want to have a nanny because we’re a team, and we do just fine by ourselves. I’m probably old enough to stay home by myself. I don’t really need a babysitter.”
“I think, according to the law, that you do.”
That makes him smile, and then he shrugs his slim shoulder once more. He’s going to be a tall kid, and he’s got his mom’s dark hair and blue eyes.
Before he can ask me more questions, we hear female voices coming down the hallway.
“He should be in bed by ten because he has a soccer game tomorrow morning.” London walks into the game room, followed by a woman, whom I’d guess was college age.
And my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth.
London’s in a black dress with a high neckline, but her arms are bare, and her legs… I get glimpses of her long legs through the slits in her form-fitting dress. She’s lean and toned, and I suspect she works out more than she let on in the elevator earlier today.
She’s usually in suits at work, not showing any skin.
“You’re beautiful, Mom,” Caleb announces and wiggles his eyebrows.
“Thanks, buddy. You and Miss Quinn have fun, okay?”
“I’ll let her win at least one game,” he says with a smug smile, which makes Quinn laugh.
“That’s a lie. He never lets me win. Don’t worry about us; just go have fun.”
“Ten o’clock,” London says sternly. “Don’t give her a hard time when she tells you it’s bedtime.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” Caleb replies, trying to look earnest.
“Yeah, right. Okay, I’ll see you in the morning.” London kisses his head, ruffles his hair, and turns to me. “I’m ready when you are.”
“Let’s do this.” I gesture for her to lead the way and then turn back to Caleb. “It was good to meet you, Caleb.”
“You, too!”
I follow London out to my car—I broke the Range Rover out for the winter—and open the door for her, then walk around to the driver’s side.
