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Shameless
Author: Abby Brooks


Chapter One

 

 

Jack

 

Was something in the house burning?

Again?

I turned off the hairdryer aimed at my daughter Charlie’s head and gave it a sniff. Nope. The appliance was ancient, but it wasn’t the source of the stink. I smelled her half-dried curls and got a whiff of strawberry shampoo. Not there either, thank goodness. She’d forgiven plenty of mistakes with me doing her hair, but I’d never live it down if I caught it on fire.

Her bright eyes met mine. “Whatsa matter, Daddy?”

I sniffed again. Definitely smoke coming from somewhere. “Do you smell—”

“Dad!” Connor’s voice thundered down the hallway with the shriek of the fire alarm following behind.

Charlie’s mouth formed a surprised O as I handed her the hairdryer. “Stay here.”

“But Daddy…”

“Just stay, Charlie.” I launched down the hallway toward the cloud of smoke creeping from the kitchen. As I rounded the corner, Garrett tossed a cup of water into a pan on the stove.

“I got it!” he yelled, steam and smoke billowing from the mess.

Garrett snatched a stack of mail off the table while Connor hauled a chair under the screeching fire alarm. My sons scrambled up together to fan the device while I yanked open a window to let in the morning air. Birdsong replaced the fire alarm as Charlie appeared in the doorway, her hair half-dry and completely frizzed. Hopefully the babysitter would know what to do for her because there was no way I could fix that—especially considering I was already late.

“What happened?” she asked in her six-year-old voice.

I swiped a hand through my dark curls then carefully carried the still smoking pan to the sink. “I forgot about the pancakes while I dried your hair. This one burnt to a crisp.”

“Oh.” Charlie’s face fell. “I’m sorry.”

The pan hit the sink with a hiss, and I hurried across the kitchen to crouch in front of her. “No, no, no, baby. This isn’t your fault.”

“Yeah.” Garrett bobbed his head and puffed out his bottom lip. “It’s Dad’s fault.”

I scoffed, then turned to him with incredulous eyes. “Oh yeah? You think you could do better?”

“Probably.” My oldest shrugged, his gaze hitting mine before rolling away. His message was clear: You’re not exactly killing it, Old Man.

“Mommy always did Charlie’s hair after breakfast.” Connor smiled helpfully.

With a sigh, I stood, nodding. “Got it. First stuff your faces. Then fight the curl monster.”

And, somewhere along the way, I needed to find time to shower, shave, and get ready for work without burning the house down. It had been infinitely easier when they were in school. Now that summer break had arrived, our mornings were unpredictable, which spelled disaster for me. I needed the structure of deadlines and schedules. This free-for-all approach to the morning was gonna kill me. Maybe I needed to tighten our routine? Set their alarms like they were getting up for school? The thought of an itemized checklist on the fridge and my kids marching through the morning in an orderly fashion was hard to resist.

Sure. Father of the year, right there.

While that would make things easier for me, it would righteously suck for the kids. I couldn’t do that to them.

I ruffled Connor’s blond hair, then pulled open the cupboard. “Looks like it’s a cereal kind of morning.”

“I can do it.” Garrett yanked open the fridge and hauled out a gallon of milk, then met my uncertain gaze with a frown. “Seriously, Dad. I can do it.”

As the oldest of the Cooper crew, he’d tried so hard to step up after Natalie passed, but a nine-year-old’s help often led to more work on my part. Even so, the tick of the clock had me nodding my agreement as I raced back to run a comb through my hair and throw on a tie. The crash and scatter of cereal hitting the floor had my hand hitting my forehead.

“It’s okay!” Charlie’s voice bounced down the hall. “We’ll clean it up!”

Eighteen months and I was still scrambling to fill Natalie’s shoes.

The kids were falling apart.

So was the house.

And me?

I didn’t have time to worry about me. I needed to hold it together and keep things normal for the kids. (As normal as possible, anyway.) They lost their mom and I’d be damned if I let them lose everything else that felt good and right about the world too. They needed consistency and if that meant running around like a madman trying to fill both roles, then so be it.

My children deserved it.

The doorbell rang, announcing the arrival of the sitter, and I groaned. “Please let them be good,” I whispered to my reflection before sprinting to the door and hauling it open.

The teenager I’d hired to watch the kids jumped in surprise, her eyes wide as she tore her gaze from her phone. “Oh! Mr. Cooper. Hi. You scared me.” She peered over my shoulder, concern drawing her brows together as she sniffed the air. “Is something burning again?”

 

 

A knock on my office door had me checking the time. My appointment with the Tarringtons wasn’t for another half hour, though they were often early—usually in an attempt to talk to me about their still-single daughter, Lisa. They meant well, but damn. The last thing I needed was someone else in my life to worry about. If I had my way, I’d never get serious about anyone again. Casual dating? Sure. Maybe. But not for a while. The kids didn’t need me any more distracted than I already was.

I downed the last of my second cup of coffee. “Come in!”

Instead of portly Isaac Tarrington and his pencil thin wife, Gwen, Jude Malone swung open the door and leaned against the frame. He and I had been friends since middle school, along with our buddies Austin O’Connor and Alex Prescott. The four of us had gotten into our fair share of trouble over the years, usually because of one of Jude’s ‘great ideas.’

“Damn, Jack. You look like shit. And you smell like—” he wrinkled his nose “—burnt toast?”

“Pancakes.” I sniffed my shirtsleeves and sure enough, I stank. Great. I quirked a brow at Jude. “Everything okay?”

He looked baffled by the question. “Why wouldn’t it be okay?”

“Because it’s nine o’clock and you’re not exactly a morning person. And last I checked, you don’t work here. Just doin’ the math.”

“I had to pop into Cheers ‘n Beers and talk to someone about an ad campaign, then look at inventory. You know, the boring owner stuff that’ll steal my soul if I let it. I’ll tell ya. If younger me knew what really went into running a bar, I never woulda opened the place. But…I thought I’d drop in on my way and be the bright spot in your otherwise boring morning. I don’t know how you talk about numbers all day and don’t lose your mind.” He flashed me the smile he’d dubbed the ‘pantydropper’ and I shook my head with a wry laugh.

“Am I missing something?” I looked over my shoulder, then down at my chest. “Did I turn into a woman overnight? ‘Cause I could swear you’re hitting on me. Showing up at my office on your way to work. To be the bright spot in my day.” I made air quotes as Jude scoffed.

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