“Shut it,” I ordered. “Go sit down in the living room and play your game.”
He pointed and jumped back. “Ugh, why was the water brown?”
“Because this day sucks,” I answered. “And now I need to call a fuckin’ plumber,” I added under my breath. Sighing, I wiped my forehead. “Shi—” I glanced back at him. “Shoot. Mehki, open that drawer and grab me a towel.”
He did as I asked and ran over to me, handing me the towel. I shook it out and screamed when a spider fell onto the floor. It wasn’t dead either. It was ugly, nasty, andaboutto be dead, though. I lifted my foot, prepared to kill that thing when Mehki screamed.
“What?” I asked, confused.
“Don’t kill it,” he yelled. “We need spiders in the world. They are good for the environment.”
Having a high IQ kid with an eidetic memory who devoured every book he could, even at his age, sometimes made parenting harder than it should be. Mehki was gifted, skipping first grade without any effort. Some of his teachers had already insisted he was a child prodigy.
I didn’t take my eye off of the spider, which had stopped moving. It was watching me, waiting to jump on my ass at any moment.
“Mehki, get it out of here then.”
My super-son snatched the towel from me and scooped up the spider with it. “I want to study it.”
“No. Toss it outside so it can help the environment.”
He bolted from the kitchen and I stared at the ceiling. Counting to ten, I walked back to the sink.Guess I better call somebody.
“Mommie!”
I rushed toward the front of the house, slowing when I saw Mehki standing at the door talking to a man. Afineass man. My gaze dropped to my wet clothes and my fingers instinctively touched my drenched hair.And I probably look like a wet mop.
I wiped my hands on my jeans and stepped up the door. “Hi. Can I help you?”
The man, dressed in dark jeans and a fitted long-sleeved shirt, grinned. “Hi, I’m—”
“Are you here to fix the sink?” Mehki asked.
“Um…” The man scratched the back of his neck. “No.”
“Okay.” Mehki slammed the door.
“Mehki!” I shouted, opening the door again. “I’m so sorry.”
But the man didn’t look angry, he looked… amused. The smile on his face widened. “It’s okay. My kind of guy. He’s obviously very protective of his…momma?” The question hung in the air. Cute Stranger was fishing to see if I was the mother. A lot of interested men did that. Many of them turned the other way when I told them the truth.
I nodded. “Yeah… I’m the momma and he is very protective.”
“Cooper Prescott.” He held out his hand.
I started to slip my hand in his, but remembered my hand was likely clammy from all that rusty water. “I would shake your hand, but I had a mishap with the faucet in the kitchen. Angel Crawford.” Frowning, I struggled to remember where I’d heard the Prescott name before. Then, it dawned on me. “Prescott?”
“Yes.”
Rosewood Heights could have probably been named Prescott Heights. The family was well known, well-established in the small town. Aunt Lou never seemed to care much about them, though. She often had a sneer on her face when she referred to the senior Prescott, the one she’d grown up with.
I leaned against the door. “What can I do for you?” I glanced down at Mehki, who was silently watching Cutie Prescott.I mean…Cooper Prescott.
“Is Ms. Fox home?” Cooper asked.
The familiar sadness crept over me again. “Unfortunately, no. She passed away.”
He blinked, obviously surprised by the news. “Wow. I’m sorry for your loss.” Averting his gaze, he mumbled something to himself before meeting my eyes again. “I came over because my grandfather asked me to handle something for Ms. Fox.”
