Cooper (The Family Simon 6)

He needed to work, and no way could he get anything done with some woman underfoot. And he sure as hell didn’t need some sweet little old lady who’d want nothing more than to set him up with a granddaughter or daughter or cousin or…

“Coop?”

“You hired her, you can fire her.”

Silence greeted his words. “I can’t. I won’t. Tell me that you don’t need someone to get your groceries and organize your meals. Clean the dust bunnies and your clothes and maybe organize that huge attic? I thought you wanted your work space up there? Thought you said you didn’t like working in the shop?”

Damn but his head hurt. With a curse, he rubbed his temples.

“And she’s not a stranger, Cooper. You met her last week at the church social.”

Great. The social. It wasn’t his usual gig, and the only reason he’d gone was because the night before the social, he’d lost at poker and Maverick insisted if he had to go, then Cooper did as well.

Charlie was still jabbering in his ear. “Campbell’s Home Services is a well-established business and—”

“Campbell?” Well, that rang a bell.

Blonde hair, green eyes, a nice rack, and legs that went on for miles is what he remembered. Suddenly interested, Cooper perked up.

“Do you remember?”

Hell yeah, he remembered. The woman ran her mouth a lot, going on about things he had no interest in, but her lips were soft and full, and he could think of more than a few things that could shut up that luscious mouth. Newly separated, she’d made it more than clear she was available, and he’d filed her away as a possible diversion.

What the hell was her name? “Sara?”

“Sara was there, but no, I’m talking about her sister, Morgan Campbell.”

He frowned. “She a blonde?”

“No. Brunette.” Charlie yelled at her young brother Connor once more and then sighed into the phone. “She was there, Cooper. Pretty sure you met her.”

He thought back to the Saturday before. “Wait a minute. Are you talking about the middle-aged woman who stood in the corner all night? The one in the green sweater?” The only reason he remembered her was because her cardigan was the ugliest puke green he’d ever seen. It was big, bulky, and covered her from neck to mid-thigh.

“She’s not middle-aged. She’s twenty-seven.”

“Well, she’s the oldest-looking twenty-seven-year-old I’ve ever seen.”

“Really, Cooper?” Charlie wasn’t impressed.

He swore and rubbed at the hair on his chin. He knew he sounded like an asshole but couldn’t seem to help himself. His head ached, he was frustrated beyond belief, and he sure as hell didn’t have time to argue.

“Look, Charlie. I don’t care if she’s twenty-seven or seventy-two. Hell, she could look like Angelina Jolie and it wouldn’t matter. I don’t want her here. End of story.”

“Coop—”

“I’m not doing this with you, Charlie.”

His sister-in-law said something not fit for human ears.

“Your vocabulary is interesting. The way you mix up nouns and verbs into something so naughty I just might have to use it myself.” He was trying to lighten things a bit, but with a sigh, Cooper leaned against the door and squeezed his eyes shut. It wasn’t working. Charlie wasn’t so easily swayed.

“It’s her father’s business and she’s…well, she’s helping out at the moment. They need the work.”

“She needs the work? What the hell do you think I am? Some kind of charity?”

A noise caught his attention, and Cooper’s eyes flew open. He whipped up his head in time to see two feet disappear back upstairs. Well, shit.

“I gotta go, Charlie.”