Not my normal reaction.
Nathan and I hooked up with Haven’s friends before, a couple of times. Really pretty, both of them. And really focused on making that hookup happen again tonight.
“Hi guys,” Bryn smiles, “Wondered if you’d show up. You weren’t here last time.”
Harlow corrects her. “No, we weren’t here.”
“I meant the time we were here, the one before that.”
I smirk, “Okay, now you’re confusing everyone.”
Their proximity lessens and I feel a weird tug in my gut, like I want out of here. “Have to go take care of business. See you all in a sec.”
I head to the men’s room, the line for the ladies long as usual. Only this time heads turn in a pronounced way, with recognition. Only problem is I don’t know them.
My footsteps slow, awareness dawning.
I ask with a be-honest smile, “You’ve seen the group, haven’t you?”
A few nod and some just stare like they’ve met their favorite movie star when they weren’t prepared.
One brave one asks, “Can I take a picture?”
“You know what? No.”
Every single mouth falls open.
“You want me to explain? You think I’m a jerk? I’m a cop. I have to do my job out there. I can’t be famous in whatever capacity or to whatever level you think I am. What if I want to make Detective one day? I’d be a target.”
“Do you want to be a detective?”
“I want the option.” Strolling away, my muscles are tense now. I hate saying no. Part of me wanted to suggest we all pose together. That’s more my style.
But I just got Chief off my back.
Can’t imagine her seeing that photo.
Me grinning with a dozen girls in skin-tight dresses and their breasts hiked for consumption. That’s not what I need right now.
What I need is…
“Hi,” Diana answers, “I didn’t expect you to call tonight.”
Chapter 26
Diana
“Yes, I’m going out with Wyatt tonight,” I sigh, walking around Lita to get to our bathroom. “You think I wore a red dress to watch movies with you?”
“You are asking for trouble, Diana!”
I grab the doorframe and use it to flip me around. “Maybe I am! But ya know what? Life is short. That’s what everyone says, isn’t it? I want to go, so I’m going. Pretty simple answer to the most distracting question I’ve ever had when it comes to a basic first freakin’ date!”
“Nothing is basic with a Cocker,” she warns.
“Arrggh!!!”
At my half-scream half-growl, Lita’s eyes go wide.
But I manage not to slam the door in her face. I do have some self-control. Barely.
I hole up in the bathroom, shutting the door and locking it for good measure.
She knocks, which I cannot believe, saying through the wood, “I’m trying to save you what I went through.”
Dabbing eye shadow onto the pad of my ring finger I call back, “What you went through must have been pretty exciting for you to still be holding onto it like this.”
Silence, then, “I mean the bad part! The not-lasting part!”
Blending into the valley of my eyelid I tell my stubborn roommate, “They can’t all last. The ride is still worth getting on.”
“You’re not going to sleep with him tonight!?”
That’s not the ride I meant.
I was talking about excitement.
Fun.
Even fear.
All of it.
Focusing on making the eyeshadow even on both of my peepers, I apply and blend while trying to stay steady, despite impatience. At her. Not at the taupe with a a hint of mauve. Mauve Taupe. Is that what they call this? No, of course not. That’s too obvious. “I might sleep with him! I just might!”
Really?
I might?
Yes.
Even though I’m just saying that because I’m tired of her warnings, I might sleep with him tonight. It’s a definite possibility.
I wouldn’t be surprised if I opened that door and saw her literally pulling out her hair. She’s eerily quiet. Not what I’d expect after what I just shouted.
Grabbing powder blush I stare at it and opt for liquid. Just in cast we’re making out and he grabs my face, liquid will last longer. “Lita? You still there?”
Nothing.
Through the mirror I stare at the door, waiting for it to combust with her standing among shards and smoke, snakes for hair, death-white eyes, flames shooting from her fingernails.
You shall not date a Cocker!
I shall not let you!
Heathen!
Feels like the majority ruling.
Don’t date Wyatt.
But he’s called every day since asking me out for tonight. Even from some club party thing where I could barely hear him over the dance music, and not the kind we play at Silver Linings.
Sliding my lipstick on, I remember that it was a struggle but still we talked for fifteen minutes, and I made him laugh. A few times. He got me laughing more than that, but I didn’t let him hear me every time he did. The guy has a big head. It’s more fun for both of us to make him work for it.
I trace my lips’s edges with my finger for precision, smack them together, and lean back to survey the impact of them matching my fire engine red dress.
Not bad.
Oh. Damn.
Why do I always forget mascara?
Snatching up the wand from my case, I glance to the door again and frown. “Lita?”
Still zip.
Huh.
This will only take a second. Few globs cleaned off with a clean wand I keep for glob-removal, and I step back to check myself out. I look good in red. Most women do. And I read a study that said we get asked out more when wearing this color. Good to know.
If it’s that appealing, why not hedge my bets and wear it on date one, since it’s not a blind date. If it were, I’d wear a turtleneck.
Warily I open the door, thoroughly anticipating an ambush.
But there she is on the couch, bent over, small, with her arms covering her head, shoulders shaking.
“Lita?” I walk closer, leaning left to see her face. “You okay?”
She sniffles and looks up, eyes bloodshot, nose red, voice quiet. “I really wanted him.”
Empathy melts me to sit with her, and touch her drooped shoulder. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be selfish.”
“You’re not!” she squeaks. I can picture her at age five. She’s little-girl-Lita now, and not the grown marketing guru who drives a Lexus. “I’m being selfish. I’m jealous, Diana! I’m sorry, but I’m jealous.” Fresh tears slide down her cheeks. “I’m sorry.”
Smoothing her hair I whisper, “Hey, it’s okay. Thank you for telling me. That’s means a lot to me. You trust me with it.”
“We’re friends,” she sniffs, wiping her nose with the back of her forearm, still a little kid. “You’re not just my roommate.”
“I feel the same way. If it makes you feel any better, what happened to you might happen to me.”
“That doesn’t make me feel better!!” she laughs through the tears, “I don’t want you hurting. I just wanted Nicholas, you know? I did. I knew he was a player. Hell, I had sex with him in the back yard of Billy’s house the night we met!”
“The back yard?” I gasp. “At a party?”
“There was this little shed. Anyway, then we had a date. Then again at Billy’s party, we made out in front of everyone and had sex in Billy’s bathroom! And then I never heard from him again.”
Biting my lips, both of them sucked into my mouth I nod, “Yeah, that…sucks.”
“I’ve been really horrible about this. I don’t want to be jealous. I didn’t know that’s what was going on with me.”
“I don’t want you to be, either. Do you want me to be happy?”
“Of course!”
“Then go in ther
e and take one of those three-hour-long baths of yours with the eucalyptus and candles and sea salt and magic herbs from Kroger...” I pause while she laughs at the name of our supermarket, which does not have magic herbs. Her dealer does. The legal kind. “Rest, cry, let it all out, because you need to make room for the right man to come. Nicholas can’t take this space in your heart anymore, Lita, okay?” I lean in to maintain eye contact. “You know what I believe? Your guy is out there, if you let go of this one. I know that sucks to hear, but trust me. We had this one man who was hung-up on a woman he loved who didn’t love him back, for forty-seven years! He was such a sweetheart but never gave love to anyone and he died.”
Lita stares at me. “That’s so dark, Diana.”
“So what? It’s life! It’s going to be dark all the time later on, so let some light in now! Nicholas isn’t worth your time.”
“Yes he is.”
“No, he’s not. He’s worth your admiration, sure, because you found him very attractive. I’m not taking that away—”
“But not worth more of my time. I hear you. I just like seeing you all worked up.”
I stare at my red-eyed roommate until a grin breaks free. “Very nice. Good. You have your sense of humor. My work is done.” I wipe my hands and stand up, smoothing a dress I bought a long time ago but that never felt right to wear until tonight.
“You look beautiful,” she smiles.
Taking a deep breath, I lock eyes with her. “Thank you.”
“I promise I won’t be jealous if this works out.”
Cocking an eyebrow I dryly confess, “I have no delusions about this working out. I’m just excited, and that’s enough for me.”
A knock at the door turns that excitement up ten-thousand-notches. Racing for bag and keys on the accent table, I check my red high heels for dust—that’s how long they’ve waited for some fresh air and possibilities.
“Lita, just in case…” I look back to where she’s sitting, watching me. “How do you know you won’t be jealous? Or were you just saying that?”
She shrugs, “It doesn’t feel like it’s there anymore,” wiping her right eye, the one with more mascara running. “I think I just needed to tell you or something. I don’t know.”
“Huh,” I frown. “Are you having that bath?”
“It sounded really good, actually, yeah. I made some edibles, so I’ll have a brownie and a bath and maybe picture what I’m really looking for in a man.”
Another knock.
This time I don’t jump and I’m calm, until I open our beveled-wood door and smile, “Hi Wyatt.”
My pulse quickens at the sight of him, standing on our porch with a miss mosh of potted plants around him, his meaty hands shoved into the pockets of black jeans, a black shirt pulled taut across broad shoulders and round pec muscles.
His gaze drops to slowly drink me in all the way from my toes on up. “Diana, you are gorgeous. That dress…Your smile. Wow.” He closes his eyes for a second and gives his head a little shake, smile growing.
Right now, I’m the only girl in the world.
Pulling one of his hands free, his calloused open palm is offered to me. “You ready to go, Beautiful?”
I think I know why May fainted that night.
Chapter 27
Wyatt
After dinner and a movie, Diana and I are at a restaurant I’ve never been to, grabbing a drink since neither of us wanted to go home yet. I’ve been enjoying making her laugh, and she’s gotten more than a few from me, too.
Dim lights and low music made this a perfect choice, so I led her to the bar where two seats waited for us—the only ones in the place.
She’s sitting with her legs not crossed thanks to the healing bruise we’re responsible for, sexy red heels perched on the stool’s foot-rest. Her frozen margarita is half full, and she’s leaning in to ask me, her breath sweet, “What do you mean revolving door restaurant?”
“It’s what I call a location where the restaurant that leases it never last. This spot we are sitting in right here and now was something else last year. And the year before, and on and on. They open strong, like now, and then peter out. Doors shut for good every time.”
“Until someone buys it and opens them again under a different name.”
“Exactly. Management doesn’t matter. Some have been pretty awesome. Star chef, the works. It’s the location. Something’s wrong with it. Cursed maybe.” I drink my bottle of Sweetwater Ale, enjoy the chilled bitterness slipping into my throat before I share with her, “My parents used to own Crash and Burn. You know them?”
“I do!” Diana’s pretty eyelashes flutter as she pictures the past. “I’ve been to Burn a few times when I was a kid! My parents loved the menu. That belonged to your family?”
“My mom’s an amazing chef. She created all those dishes.”
Diana grins, “No way!” reflecting on the memory. “I never heard her name or I might have placed it. When you’re a kid you don’t really notice things like that. I just wanted to eat. My parents are the foodies. They love going out, to this day.”
“Because I grew up in them, I always notice how a restaurant is run. In my DNA.” I take a swig and ask our approaching bartender, “Excuse me, can we get some fries?”
She looks from me to Diana like she wishes they could switch places. This stuff isn’t lost on me. I’m a cop. We watch people. Things don’t slide by.
Like how Diana is biting her lip again, staring at the blended drink with something on her mind. I’m not missing that. It’s been happening all night. One minute we’re having fun and the next, she’s in her own world worrying about something. Enough is enough.
After a beat, I smirk, “Okay, out with it.”
She glances up, unaware she’d drifted away from me. “What?”
“You keep doing that. I’ve been waiting for you to come clean about what’s bugging you, but since you won’t, I’m going to make you.” Leaning in, I kiss her. She’s hesitant, then yields to me. I bite her tongue and give it a lick before murmuring against breathless lips, “What’s on your mind, Victim?”
She laughs and pushes me away. “Please don’t make that my nickname.”
“Alright, Beautiful, what’s got you distracted?”
“That’s better,” she smiles, but her eyes darken a second later before she drops the bomb, “Wyatt, I have to tell you something.”
I lean back on my barstool, wood pressing against the middle of my spine. Taking a swig to prepare myself, I nod and say, “Don’t like the sound of this, but okay, go.”
“I work at Silver Linings…” She trails off, searching my face to know if I understand what that means.
It takes me a second, because the name of my great-grandmother’s Senior Living Facility is the last thing I expected her to say. “Wait…you know Grams?”
“Is that what you all call her?” Diana frowns, worried about what I’m thinking. “I just know her as May. She won’t let me call her Mrs. Cocker anymore even though sometimes I still do.”
“She wouldn’t. Grams isn’t formal when she likes somebody.” Dropping my gaze to the nearly empty bottle in my right hand, I tip it back and down the last, taking my moment to analyze her news. “I still can’t find the big deal in this,” I shrug, setting the bottle mid-counter for retrieval. Balling up a napkin, damp with condensation, I hold it in my hand and squeeze. “Yeah, still don’t know why I should care about that.”
Diana smiles, “I should’ve told you.”
“We just met. I’m learning things about you. Bit by bit.”
“Yes, but when I was riding in the patrol car, I knew who you were because of the fan group…and knew that May was your great…” She pauses and corrects herself, “That she was your Grams.”
The recollection hits me. “Oh! That’s the look you gave me. I saw that recognition when we first met. Anyway, who cares?” She sips from her drink, unconvinced it’s not a big deal. “Jeezus, for a second there I thought you and
Eddie were getting back together.”
She bursts out laughing, and starts to cough because the margarita went up her nose. I reach over for a fresh cocktail napkin, and pass it to her waving hand as she covers her face with the other. She blows, turning so I can’t watch, but I’m watching anyway.
Frankly, that she got this worked up over such a small thing indicates she won’t stomach big ones. This much guilt is a sign that it’s not her normal operating tactic. An anomaly.
“You all clean? No more booze boogers?”
Rolling her eyes, she balls up the napkin. Now we both have one. “I am not getting back with Eddie. Ever.”
“Good.”
Our bartender pauses to ask, “Need another Sweetwater?”
“Yeah, thanks. Diana, you have enough margarita or did you snort it all?” I grin as she busts up. “Just the beer.”
“Fries are coming up.”
“Great.” Now that we’re alone again — crowded and loud bar notwithstanding — I focus on my unusual date. “How’s Grams? I need to visit her.”
The guilt vanishes, replaced by a severe, “I can’t believe you never have.”
“Not true.”
“Not while I was there!”
“True.” I lean to give her a kiss. “But that doesn’t mean I haven’t been there.”
We’re an inch away, and Diana’s eyelids are growing heavier. I feel the chemistry, too. Been feeling it ever since she climbed in our back seat, soaked to the bone and lifting ducklings onto her lap while she gave my partner a hard time.
It’s like there’s nobody else here, loud conversations don’t matter. I know it’s the same for her. That’s why I was surprised she might confess something about her ex.
You hear the we-have-to-talk or I-have-to-tell-something announcement and it’s always about someone else. I’m pleasantly surprised it was just this.
“I was there just under, oh, hmm, two months ago, Diana.” Kissing her, I add, “Should go more often, sure, but I was there.”
“I don’t believe you,” she teases, giving my tongue a little lick, our mouths molding each other for a hot second before she demands with a smile in her pretty eyes, “Give me a day and time.”
Cocky Cop: Cocker Brothers - Book 23 Page 13