Lexi Cocker (Cocker Brothers Book 25)
Page 1
LEXI COCKER
Cocker Brothers — Book 25
FALEENA HOPKINS
CONTENTS
LEXI COCKER - Book 25
1. LEXI
2. LEXI
3. LEXI
4. GAGE
5. LEXI
6. LEXI
7. GAGE
8. GAGE
9. LEXI
10. LEXI
11. GAGE
12. GAGE
13. LEXI
14. LEXI
15. GAGE
16. LEXI
17. GAGE
18. LEXI
19. GAGE
20. GAGE
21. LEXI
22. GAGE
23. LEXI
24. GAGE
25. GAGE
26. LEXI
27. GAGE
28. GAGE
29. LEXI
30. LEXI
31. LEXI
32. LEXI
33. LEXI
34. GAGE
35. GAGE
36. LEXI
37. LEXI
38. GAGE
39. LEXI
Cocker Brothers
About the Author
LEXI COCKER - BOOK 25
I WANT HIM.
All the time.
More.
Always this.
Forever.
Just him and me.
I blink, fingers clawed into his back.
My eyes widen.
Stunned.
Scared?
Okay, maybe a little.
Because…
What was that thought-train?!
What's happening to me?!!!
JUST NOW FINDING THE SERIES? Cocker Brothers standalone romance books are carefully written to begin anywhere and feel right at home.
ALREADY A FAN? Lexi’s love story happens during the time-period of her sister’s love story while Logan is overseas. (Samantha Cocker’s Book 22) and before Wyatt’s (Book 23).
In Samantha’s story we learned that Lex found her man, though we didn’t know who he was, or receive any details whatsoever about him.
Until now…
Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.
EMILY BRONTE
Chapter One
LEXI
“L exi, come back here!” my lover/nemesis shouts from inside the abandoned bedroom as I shimmy down his drainpipe.
I’ve got my middle finger shoved through my keychain, keys jingling like a halting dog collar as I scoot lower and shout, “Fuck you, Brad!”
Thank God I hid my handbag in the trunk so my hands are free for this get-the-fuck-away move. I hadn’t planned climbing out his window but he blocked the door so…
Truth is I didn’t bring my handbag because not only had I no reason to believe I’d be spending the night at Brad’s (where I’d need the toothbrush, eye cream, and extra pair of panties I used to carry when we first started sleeping together) but it also didn’t match the dress I snagged from Zoe’s closet. The one lying in a heap next to Brad’s untouched bed.
She’ll forgive me.
The shoes, however, what a loss! I really loved those denim heels of Samantha’s! Oh well.
She’ll forgive me.
His brown mop of hair above the eternally trimmed-to-perfection beard juts out his second floor window, designer prescription glasses falling prey to gravity. Brad pushes them up before it’s too late, holds them in place on his perfect nose, gets impatient, and yanks them off as we glare at each other, me stopping to add a sneer.
Brad’s naked chest is visible, with a fresh, dark crimson hickey on his neck in full display, the one I gave him after I saw betrayal on his nightstand. For being so smart, he sure was stupid to leave that laying there.
“You are fucking crazy,” he barks, “Get back here! You’re going to fall off that drain pipe!”
Like a sexy anaconda dressed in white pajama shorts and matching halter, I’m gripping on.
But I’m no snake.
He is.
“Try and catch me, you old man!”
Brad chuckles, “Oh now I’m old?” losing the gleam to shout, “Now I’m old?! You didn’t think I was old five minutes ago when you were yanking down my zipper for the hundredth and ninety-eighth time!”
“You counted?”
“Of course I counted!”
I continue my escape. “That’s so...you!”
He barks, “Get back here, Lexi! I mean it!”
“Blah blah blah!” Scratching up my inner thighs wasn’t off the menu tonight but this isn’t how I thought it would happen. “I’ll tell you what, Brad, why don’t you warn the owner of that yellow hair tie that you count sexual encounters — probably have an Excel spreadsheet and Powerpoint presentation of all the positions, too, I wouldn’t put it past you — and see if she still has the hots for you after that!” Under my breath I add, “Can’t wait to tell Samantha about this. She’ll never believe it.”
I glance up.
Wait.
Where did he go?
Was I just talking to myself?
He heard none of it?
My heart sinks.
Oh come on!
Really?!
He gave up that easily?
My eyes widen as I realize, “Oh shit, he’s running downstairs!” and I scoot faster until I’m letting go, dropping onto his shrub from a higher distance than I should. “Ouch!” I cry out and grab my ankle. “Dammit!”
Brad bursts out the front door still wearing only pinstriped, baby blue boxers, raw lips panting as he plants his thick bare feet on the welcome mat to shout, “Lexi!”
I sprint-hop for my car parked just ahead on his sleepy, tree-lined, Georgia street. “Don’t run after me!”
“What the… Did you break your foot?!” He starts running.
I dash around to the driver’s door, key ready to slide in my lock.
Brad jumps onto my Subaru’s hood, rolling over it like an action star. He lands on the asphalt as I lock myself safely inside. The ignition ignites, seatbelt engaged and sliding around my scratched up, sprained, scantily clad body that he had his hands all over for the last fucking time - I swear it. “Nice move.”
Brad pants, “You like that?”
“Only that. I don’t like you.” I hit the gas, wincing at the intense pain in my right ankle. But that’s cool. Everything I do is intense.
Brad shouts after me a low blow, “You’ll be back, Alexis!”
Zig-zagging around a forgotten red ball laying in the middle of his street, under my breath I growl, “Bastard. He knows I hate being called that!”
Chapter Two
LEXI
I shout, “Sam!” hobbling into House-Three, as Ryder Hamilton likes to call the apartment I live in with my sister, Samantha, and our cousin Zoe in West Midtown, Atlanta, Georgia.
As I drop my retrieved handbag onto our cluttered coffee table, I call out impatiently, “Sammy? You home? You better be home!!!”
Samantha was born into this world to be my co-conspirator in all things — a fact I knew the moment I met her on day-one of her existence — and I cannot do anything without sharing it with Sammy.
We’re both very close to Zoe, too, and I’d include her name in my shout, but it’s not my first instinct because Zo tends to be a little…hmm…floaty-headed.
An intense sigh of relief deflates my lungs as my pretty, tow-headed sister appears from out our kitchen, blonde, straight hair she inherited from Dad up high in a ponytail since, from the looks of her, she’s been working out something fierce — snakeskin spandex dark in the sweat-zones, beads dripping from her hairline, brown eyes blinki
ng to my unexpected limp. “You’re hurt!”
I wave it away, “Just a sprain,” and hobble toward her, muttering a less convinced, “No biggie,” because it hurts like a motherfucker, but that’s not what’s important right now!
Floaty-Head appears down the hallway, gasping, “Lexi’s hurt?!” and abandoning her forest — aka her bedroom — with our fluffy white cat, Ralphie Rooster, cradled in loving arms, purring like a Mercedes Benz on idle as she tenderly pets him nonstop.
Our living room and kitchen are split by one wall and from that extends an endless hallway like the stretched base of a letter “t”. Framed photos of fun moments in our lives keep you entertained while choosing which of the four doors you’re most interested in — one of three bedrooms, or an inadequate single bath we’ve made prettier with too many candles.
I take that back.
You can never have too many.
More than one person has walked into Zoe’s wonderland forest of flora and fauna when searching for the loo, and found themselves in awe, and never wanting to leave.
It smells delicious in there except when lilies are in bloom, then it can suffocate you. Open a window! I’ve cried out more than once.
I give her shit, but I love her to pieces. How can you not?
Samantha and I have normal bedrooms, a fact I’m not proud of but don’t spend time in enough to care.
I’m usually at Brad’s.
Or, I used to be.
Those multiple-night sleepovers have dwindled to a pitiful number, a fact I’d been in denial about until I saw that damn yellow elastic tonight!
Standing where the “t” is crossed, I’ve got Samantha to my left and Zoe smack in front of me.
Leaning weight on my good ankle, I throw out my arms. “I broke up with Brad!”
Sam sucks on her teeth.
Zoe offers a half-smile. “Sorry, Lexi.”
“Good.”
I look at Sam and repeat, “Good?”
“Yes, good!” She turns around and disappears into the kitchen. “I was getting water when you walked in. Left my thermos at the gym.” Her voice goes distant, “Now it’s gone.” sounding much sadder than the loss of a thermos she bought at Starbucks should warrant. “I’ve got to be more careful. Have to stop losing things that are important to me.”
I follow her, “Samantha!” and Zoe follows me, never pausing the petting.
Sam twists the kitchen sink’s modern faucet, dark of night seen through the window facing North above her head, blinds up. “What, Lexi?” Cold water sprays more messily than it should since we lost the little cap-thingy and now our dishes get a better shower than we do.
Sam dips down, squeezing her eyes closed to drink from the powerful faucet as her face gets sprayed.
I throw my hands on my hips, white pajama shorts tugging down a little with the impact of my irritation, “We’re not talking about Logan right now, that’s what!”
She chokes and sputters, “What??!” Straightening up and blinking hard, Sammy snatches one of our questionably-clean dishtowels from the counter where it lay in a heap. “Why are you bringing up Logan?!”
I parrot, “Have to stop losing things…”
She blinks, “I wasn’t…” and wipes her wet cheeks and nose, playing innocent.
“Yes, you were! I know you.” She’s about to object, but her open mouth snaps shut as my hand flies up with an accusing finger aimed at the culprit. “Don’t deny it, Sammy!”
Zoe offers, “But Logan just left the country for the first time. Germany is a lot farther away than New York is, Lex. They speak a whole other language!”
I cock my head. “Yes, they speak German. Because it’s Germany.”
“Exactly!”
Shaking the floaty-sparkles out of my brain (they’re contagious) I focus back on my sister. “I know you’ve never been this far from him, but his flight was a few days ago, and this happened tonight! Look at me! I’m half naked with a limp! Wait…Sammy, are you in love with him?”
“No!”
“Then snap out of it! Ask me how I sprained this ankle! And where the hell are my clothes?!”
Samantha wrings the dishtowel like a security blanket. “Oh no. Where are my shoes? Are they in the car?”
“No.”
“And…Zoe’s dress?”
“You borrowed my dress?”
I glance to our cousin. “Yes, I did.”
“Which one?”
“The green one with the wide skirt.”
“That looks so good with your red hair and bright green eyes!”
“Brad thought so. He also liked these shorts. He said they were cute once so I wore them again. You know why? Because I’m an idiot!”
Zoe tilts her head. “Where is my dress now?”
“On his floor.”
“Still?”
“Yes.”
“Right now?”
“Yes, Zo, your dress got sacrificed in my hasty departure.”
She frowns, “Oh,” and whispers, “But you looked so good in that.”
Bless her.
Samantha groans, “Not my denim high heels!” covering her face with the maybe-dirty dishtowel.
“Yes, your shoes, too.” I nod, “I’m sorry. I am. I was going to keep them on but your feet are a little smaller and they were pinching. And they’re really hard to get back on. I didn’t have time before I shimmied down his drain pipe!!!”
Sam and Zoe ask, in unison, “Why did you shimmy down his drainpipe?”
“Because I broke up with him!”
I spin around, and speed-hobble to our more comfortable living room where I can sit down, wincing yet plowing forward anyway because this is way more important than a possible broken bone! “For real this time, you guys! Stop it! You’re hurting me!”
They run in, overlapping, “Oh, Lex, I’m sorry!” “Did you really break up?” “Are you okay?” “What can we do?”
I plop onto the couch and grin, “You didn’t really hurt me. Please, like I’m delicate?”
Samantha cries out, “How did I fall for that?!” plopping onto the blue chair opposite me.
“You know I don’t get hurt!”
“I know, Lex, I know. You’re impervious to pain. That’s why you’re so drawn to it.”
This gives me pause.
I almost point to my ankle.
But that’s not the type of pain she means. Hmm.
I shrug it off.
“Anyway, this is what happened…wait, do we have something to celebrate with?”
Zoe asks the purring Benz, “Do we have any wine, Ralphie, huh?” She grabs his fluffy paw, deepening her voice to say, “Yes we do, Zoe! We have Rosé. I’d love some, too, but you won’t give me any, will you?” As she disappears we hear her murmur with love in her own soft voice, “No, I won’t, Ralphie, because you’re a kitty and your little brain could go wonky and I like your brain just the way it is.”
Under my breath I tell Sam, “Wish we could say the same about…”
“Shh!!” she grins.
I reach over, touch the coffee table, bend toward my sister. “I know you’re bummed Logan is in Germany. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be impatient. But this is big for me!”
Grateful I acknowledged what she’s going through — losing her dance partner and the best guy friend she’s had ever since we were kids — Sammy tilts her head, “It’s huge, Lexi, really,” and points to her workout clothes. “I’m holding off showering to hear every detail.”
“Thank you!”
Zoe comes running in.
With a chilled bottle of Rosé.
No cat.
And one glass.
Sam and I stare at her.
Zoe explains, “You need this whole bottle if you really broke up with Brad. It’s a screw-cap. You wanna?”
I laugh, reach for the bottle and open it, holding the celebration high like it’s the best champagne France has to offer.
Sally Ashes, our other kitty, slinks
into the living room, dark-grey fur beautiful as always and a perfect compliment to pale green eyes. Between her, Ralphie, Zoe and me, there are a lot of green-eyed creatures living at House Three.
Sam’s the only one with brown eyes, but since she’s a natural blonde, it’s way more beautiful and unique than she ever takes credit for, humble human that she is.
Me however, I’m not so humble. Like our brothers I’ve been called cocky more than once — a nickname our family has been saddled with since day one due to our Cocker surname.
I’m living up to it as I say, “I can do way better than Brad! He was lucky to be with me! There were tons of college girls who wanted to be with the hot professor, and he came after me. I wasn’t interested, but I caved, threw him a bone, and—”
Samantha smirks, “—Got hooked on his.”
“Sammy!” Zoe cries out, and heads to the kitchen. “I’ll get more glasses, I was just kidding.”
“Thank you!” Sam calls to her.
I whisper, “The thought of sex made her need a drink.”
“She will one day.”
I shout, “Zoe, have you ever…”
“Shh!!!” Sam waves, “Don’t! You know she hasn’t.”
I chew on my lip and we both watch the one wall until Zoe rounds it, blinking at us because we’re staring right at her. “Have I ever…what?”
“Nothing.”
She pours the chilled wine for herself and my sister, “To leaving the wrong guy behind!”
We lift our glasses right as Sally Ashes gracefully leaps up, expertly maneuvering the obstacle course called our coffee table.
Drinking to leaving behind wrong dudes, there’s a smile in our eyes, and one in my heart. I lick my lips, “So this is what happened,” and launch into the story of my wild night.
When they hear about the telltale hair-tie, they gasp. But it’s the jump into the bushes all the way to his stuntman-roll over my Subaru’s hood that really gets them oohing and aahhing! Complete that with my smooth exit line and skidding tires and they’re both enraptured with the stories perfection.
We hold our glass up high, clink them, and take another sip.
“Amazing!” Zoe grins.