of Bud and a juice box sitting on the paper towel he’d laid on top of the antiquey-looking table at the end of the Chesterfield.
“C’mon, Finn.” She dropped her arms and held out her hand to her son. “Let’s go do some finger painting.”
“Oh, Mom… Can I please watch some more sports with Cole?”
“I think you’ve seen enough sports for one day.”
Her emphasis left Cole in no doubt what she thought about boxing—certainly not one she wanted her kid to witness. “But we were having fun.”
Jane dropped her hand to her side. “Finger painting is fun.”
Finn didn’t look like he considered finger painting fun. At least not in comparison to Cole, television, and popcorn. He turned beseeching eyes on Cole. “Tell Mommy how much fun sports is.”
Cole almost laughed out loud. He didn’t know Jane’s sporting preferences, but right now, if he had to guess, he’d say she wasn’t a fan of any. But there was something about the childlike desperation in Finn’s eyes that tugged hard somewhere around Cole’s middle.
How could he say no to that? Glancing at Jane, he said, “Look…I really don’t mind him being here with me. And we can watch something else.” He picked up the remote and changed it to the channel he knew was showing cricket. It was an old one-day match between the West Indies and New Zealand that Cole had seen a few years ago, but he doubted Finn would care. “There’s no violence in cricket, and it’s bound by strict rules of etiquette.”
Which was broadly true. Cricket wasn’t known for being a bloodbath. Sure, there was some smack talk going on between the opposing teams, and players might occasionally injure themselves and draw blood, but it was generally very suitable for children.
“Oh yes.” Finn clapped, his eyes lit with excitement. “I want to watch cricket, Mommy.”
Jane shook her head, but, egged on by Finn’s enthusiasm, Cole leaped in to play his trump card. “Look. How about this. He watches two hours of cricket with me, and then he can finger paint with you.” She opened her mouth to object, but Cole plowed right on. “Come on, Jane, think about it. You can do a couple hours’ work on the floor.”
She closed her mouth abruptly, and Cole knew he’d found her Achilles heel. “Two. Whole. Uninterrupted. Hours. During the day.”
She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, which was distracting as fuck, her gaze moving from Cole to Finn to the cricket, then back to Cole. He wanted to say you know you want to but didn’t think she’d appreciate his cockiness. Those prickles of hers were never far from the surface, and Cole was pretty sure cockiness caused them to unfurl. “You can go to bed two hours earlier tonight.”
He doubted she would if she was as behind as he figured, but she had to be pretty wrecked from the hours she was keeping. Not that she looked it.
There was more lip chewing as Jane, obviously torn, weighed her options. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“I’ll be so good, Mommy.”
“He’ll be fine,” Cole said. “Really.”
She kind of sagged a little, and Cole swore he could see a weight lifting off her shoulders. “Okay, well…thank you. I really appreciate that. But only two hours.” She wagged her finger at Finn for emphasis, but Cole couldn’t help but think it was for him, too, and there went that schoolmistress thing again.
“And only cricket.”
She was addressing him this time. She’d dropped her finger, but he felt it mentally keeping him in line. “Yes, ma’am.”
Her eyes went a little round at him ma’aming her, and there was a definite look that arced between them in that second. And a pulse in the air that stayed with him long after she exited the room.
Chapter Four
Despite setting the alarm on her phone, Jane kept a close eye on the clock because she still didn’t feel right about leaving Finn in Cole’s care. She didn’t worry about his safety—it wasn’t like either of them were going to shift their asses off the couch—or even that she mistrusted Cole, because there was no way she’d have left Finn with him if she did.
She just felt guilty. The way mothers did when they weren’t there for their kid every freaking waking and sleeping minute of the day and night. Jane had tried, unsuccessfully, to shake it off over the years, but it was an almost constant companion. Maybe being a divorced, working single mom exacerbated the guilt, but