Michael Cocker eyes me, “Good meeting you, Gage,” before moving to take his seat.
Nancy gives Lexi a loving hug, whispering, “You look beautiful in green.”
“Thank you, Grandma!”
And we stroll off.
Nancy calls out, “Nice to meet you, Hunk!”
My head flies back on a laugh, and Lexi shouts, “Not you, too!”
We look behind us and find all three of them laughing. And they’re not the only ones. Didn’t take much for everyone to catch on. For the rest of the BBQ I am no longer Gage.
I am Hunk.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
GAGE
N ow that Ryder and I are alone, standing side-by-side on the lawn, away from and facing the party, he cocks an eyebrow at me. “So, what d’ya think?”
I rattle my ice. “The fresh ginger-ale is addictive.”
He agrees, “On a sunny day like this one,” and downs the last of his. “The difference between the California or the Georgia heat? Humidity.”
“I like that they don’t use plastic cups.”
“Though today is drier than normal.”
“Guess you can always clean up glass if it breaks.”
“Now that I think about it, we haven’t had rain in a week.”
“Enough people to watch over the kids.”
“I prefer the humidity.”
“Clean up a break as soon as it happens.”
“Feels tropical. Like Hawaii.”
“You’d have to invest in the glassware.”
“No ocean here, though.”
“But if you know you’re having a lot of parties…”
“I miss the ocean. Haven’t been back in two years.”
“But investing in nice things — always worth it. You feel good using them. That feeling lasts longer than they do.”
Ryder rattles his ice at the residents of House Three who are talking with Paige, Lexi’s boss and their cousin’s wife. I met her earlier. Nice. Her husband, Gabriel, is doing a charity show in Saint Louis. Not sure I’ll ever meet him. “What d’ya think they’re talking about, Gage?”
“Dunno.”
Casually glancing toward the unpopulated buffet as if considering getting more food, he steps closer to them.
Smooth.
I join him.
Also smooth.
But his timing was shit.
Because at this exact moment, Zoe and Sam walk off toward the house, and I’m expecting Cherry and Paige to follow. But they stay.
My ears perk as my date confesses, voice quiet, “It’s really hard to say this, but I just want something more. You understand, right?”
A fist forms in my gut.
“Of course!” Paige smiles. “Everyone knows this is only temporary.”
I feel Ryder cut me a glance, but I’m locked on Ethan and his family. His wife, Charlie, is a powerful redhead. Not hard to make the leap in comparison.
I strain to hear Lexi quietly sigh, “I don’t know what to do now. I hate the admit this. It’s really hard to say aloud because then I’ll have to do something about it. I’m happy, but I’m starting to feel a little stuck.”
Can blood freeze and boil at the same time?
Paige’s tone is gentle. “Feeling stuck is never what you want. Don’t rush any decisions. More will be revealed by time. The one thing I learned when I started dating Gabriel — you remember that whole thing with Ben — was that you can’t push what’s not meant to be.” She hurries to add, “I know it’s not the same thing. But it’s when I learned that lesson, the hard way.”
Lexi mutters, “Who can forget?”
They watch the party for a second before I hear Paige ask, “Where does Gage work?”
My teeth grit.
Cherry says, “Um,” and rakes her hair back.
Paige laughs, “Do you even know?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Lexi, you’re too funny!”
There’s a fist in my gut.
I glance to Ryder.
He’s staring at his ice.
“I’m a mechanic.”
He blinks up to me. “I know.”
“Oh my gawd, I’ve got a total food coma,” we hear Lexi say, turning to see her approaching us, hair shining in the sun, green dress making her eyes glow brighter than ever. “How about you?”
“No more appetite.”
“How could you, after two helpings.”
Ryder offers in his normal, friendly manner, “That veggie thing your Aunt Meagan made was out of this world.”
“Good to see her cooking again.”
“She should come out of retirement.”
“Or we’ll just have her all to ourselves.”
“That works, too,” Ryder smiles. “I’m gonna get a refill. Gage, want me to fill you up?”
“Nah. Thanks.”
As he departs, Lexi takes his place, and a breeze lifts the smell of my shampoo mixed with her natural scent up to cloud my brain, try to make me forget what I just heard. “You want to take a walk down by the trees?”
My gaze slides to them. If she’d have asked me ten minutes ago, I’d have jumped at it. We’ve had zero time alone. Not that I expected us to. But over the course of the afternoon I’ve enjoyed watching her interact with her huge family, and I wanted some time by ourselves to kiss her. It’s been hard not to admire how she shines, relaxed and happy.
Except now I know a secret — she feels stuck. We’ve kept things casual. Said it all the time. Gave the ‘out’.
But I don’t want out.
Can’t stay in either.
Not like this.
“You okay?” She reaches to push away hair the breeze blew over my eyes. “Something bothering you?”
“Nah, I’m good.”
“Sure?”
“I’m sure.”
A smile erases her frown, “Take a walk with me. Let’s talk.”
Oh fuck.
Let’s talk.
This invite might be to my end.
Can’t have that happen.
Not here.
With an audience.
“How about we get dessert.”
She frowns, looking toward the trees. “But I wanted to talk.”
“That table, too good to pass up.”
Tilting her head she asks, “Thought you weren’t hungry?”
“Always room for Cherry pie.”
A smile tugs at my distracting her with thoughts of sex. “I’m glad my dad didn’t hear you say that.” Taking my hand as we walk to the buffet table, she adds, “Couldn’t care less if Max or Caden heard. In fact, why don’t you tell them?”
“Another time.”
“I was kidding.”
“Oh.”
She side-eyeballs me, fingers loosening to a light hold. They slip apart as we make our choices, filling two small plates with colorful sweets while talking with those who had the same idea.
With my state of agitation, it’s not easy to be friendly, but I pull it off because I’m a man of self-control.
This is her family.
I’m a guest.
Back when I was eleven or twelve, my dad taught me,“Wherever you are invited, you participate. Engage. Add something of value. Don’t take anything for granted, because the invite might not come again if you do. Nor should it. You wouldn’t want some foul mannered, kill-joy in your house, would you?”
No, I sure wouldn’t.
Remembering his words, I endure the fire under my skin until it becomes diluted by easy laughter and shared stories.
When finally people begin to leave, Lexi is one of the first to take their cue. “I’m tired. How ‘bout you?”
My lungs fill with cement. I turn to tell Ryder, “You’ll see that ocean again.”
He frowns, “Thanks.”
I take Lexi’s hand since it’d be strange not to. Who am I kidding? I want to touch her. I also want to run. Knowing you’re about to get the ax fucking sucks.
The warmth of her fingers does little to soften the rock in my chest. We say goodbye on our exit, and I’m repeating, “Nice to meet you,” until it becomes surreal.
The kitchen is crammed with people helping clean food that had been carried in to make room for desserts. Since the sun is in a different place, and voices, clattering pots, and shutting cabinets crowd the air, it’s a stark contrast to the quiet anticipation of when she and I arrived.
Returning from the bathroom, tiny Grams sees us, blue eyes dropping to the keys in my hand. “Are you leaving, Hunk?”
Lexi hugs her, “We’ve gotta go, Grams. I love you.”
“I love you, too, sweetie!”
“It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Cocker.”
“Don’t I get a hug? It’s not often I’m walking around!” I bend to give her one, feeling gentle arms wrap around me. My eyes close at the unexpected comfort they give. In my ear she whispers, “I’m sorry I embarrassed you,” pulling away to pat my chest. “But you are a hunk.”
A loud crash and the sound of glass shattering makes us all jump in our skin, heads turning to hear Nancy Cocker cry out, “Oh shit!”
Grams’s bright blue eyes go wide, and everyone besides me, shouts at the top of their lungs, “Language!” and starts laughing, with Grams sighing, “Nancy! You?!”
“Sorry, Mom.”
Lexi takes my hand, “Let’s get out of here.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
LEXI
G age isn’t the most talkative of guys, most days, but his silences are normally comfortable.
I’m feeling alone in the Bronco. Driver absent.
Wheel turning itself.
“Am I going back to your place?” I ask, feeling the question is not a big deal…until he doesn’t answer.
Then it’s a very big deal.
For the rest of the ride I don’t try again, instead enjoying the warm wind in my hair as Buckhead disappears into West Midtown. Not a long drive, just drive South and a little to the right.
A.K.A. West.
The opposite direction of Virginia Highlands.
Guess I’m going home.
No need to say the obvious aloud and bring attention to the odd fact that I’m being dropped off without ceremony.
What’s going on?
Where’s the hand that’s normally on my thigh?
Ohhhhhh.
I know what this is about.
Who wouldn’t be overwhelmed by today, especially when Gage had no warning the chaos was coming. So many introductions, conversations with virtual strangers who watched him as if he were a museum exhibit, and everyone calling him that nickname!
Can’t believe Grams.
I wanted to kiss her!
She deflated a balloon near bursting, the kind with dye in them that splatters an unflattering color you can’t get rid of.
Content I figured out his sudden man-caving, my toes start tapping.
I had a wonderful day.
Didn’t know if I would!
That’s the first time I’ve ever brought a guy to one of our infamous BBQs, and it was…scary as fuck.
Without asking, I switch on a playlist, because I do that any other time I’m driving with him. And how is this any different? I do check for his reaction to see if he likes the song, and find none.
Satisfied he just needs time to regroup, I enjoy the remainder of our ride. When he drops me off in front of Building Four with clearly no intention of coming up, I smile while watching him cross around the blood-red hood to open my door, taking his offered hand and sliding into his arms. As usual.
His crocodiles look dead tired, and this grip is the opposite of passionate. Give him a day or so, and he’ll be back to his gotta-know-it-all, smirking self.
With a soft kiss, I murmur, “I hope you have sweet dreams tonight.”
His eyebrows twitch. Probably from the dashed assumption that I’d want him to call me later this evening before I fall asleep.
But nope, I’m making it clear he's got space, doesn't even have to think about it. He can instead get some rest. Let it all go.
I stroll to the door, glancing over my shoulder with a smile, but find him eyeing me as he jumps into his truck.
Men are so funny.
In the elevator I dance to wiggle free my pent up energy. As the doors swoosh open, I glide through the corridor, and into our quiet apartment, locking up and excited for Sam to get home so we can talk about how everything went today. I scream like a horror film as she appears in the hallway.
My hand flies to my heart. “You scared me!”
Her open-mouthed grin is so Sammy. “Sorry! Did you think I went to a store or something before coming home? I left like an hour ago.”
“You did?!”
“Yeah, I did! With Zoe. She drove me to Gage’s to get our car back since I needed it in the morning.”
“I didn’t see you go.”
“You were busy.”
“Then you missed Grandma Nance breaking one of her favorite crystal dishes and saying, Oh shit!”
Sammy contains a huge laugh with the back of her hand. “Language!”
“Yep, everyone yelled it.”
“Oh, that’s awesome, Lexi! I’m so glad Gage got to see that. I was waiting for it all party long and when nobody swore I was kinda disappointed! I didn’t know if I should hang out longer just in case!”
I tug off my shoes, “Seriously!” leaving them by our sofa.
“Where is he?”
“Back at his place by now, I guess. I mean, no, not yet. He couldn’t have gotten home yet. He just dropped me off.” Unzipping Zoe’s dress, I realize, “You know what’s funny, Sam?” My sister tilts her head. “Normally I would’ve said something along the lines of, I don’t know where he is, like who cares. But instead, you know what I did?”
She points at me. “You answered like a normal person.”
“I resent that. My normal is what I just said I’d have done! Didn’t I say ‘normally’ because that’s my normal?” Dropping the dress, I stroll down the hallway in black bra and panties, with the plan of exchanging them for comfy sweats. “Don’t compare me to a majority. I don’t blend with those people!”
She laughs, “You’re like a guy, Lexi,” and then her smile fades. “No, Logan isn’t like that.”
I sigh, but refrain from pointing out to my dear sister that she has some serious soul-searching to do. I’m too happy to open that crapshoot again. “I’ll be right out. We’ve gotta talk about today. I think it went well!” Grabbing the doorframe I ask, “Don’t you?”
“How is it you’re always in matching bra and panties?”
“Because I care, Sam, because I care!”
As I disappear into my room I hear her “Phfft,” under her breath.
“Samantha Cocker, show me one guy who complains about matching bra and panties! And don’t tell me they don’t complain about mismatched or raggedy ones. They do in their minds!”
I stick my head out, find her still in the hallway, facing away from me and frozen as logic hits.
Smiling to myself I head for my dresser and whisper a cocky, “That’s what I thought!”
T he next morning, after Sammy and I explored every remembered detail of Gage’s first Cocker Family BBQ, I wake and check my phone, smirking at a blank screen, “Still man-caving, huh?” and ignoring a feeling of foreboding that's beginning to nag at me. What if it isn't just a man-cave moment?
Nah. That's ridiculous!
In the first month we began casually spending time together, texts were never exchanged unless they had purpose — the kind that ends with plans made.
Then one average, ordinary day I got a ‘good morning’ from Gage. I responded with the same, and awaited more conversation. Perhaps an invite. When none came I shrugged and thought nothing more of it.
Two mornings later, another good-morning text. This was after we’d made plans the night before. So I assumed it was to alter them. (Never to cancel. I’m t
oo arrogant to think that he would want to stop seeing me.) However, that good-morning text also came with no clear purpose nor amendment, and when another came the next day, I got giggly. Didn’t tell anyone I did, but I did.
I began looking for them.
The texts initial infrequency only increased my giddiness. Suspense can have that skill when it’s done right.
Then, after about two weeks, I received good-morning texts four days in a row.
One day missed.
Then five or six consecutively.
Then one not missed.
It arrived at lunchtime.
“Hey Cherry. How’s your day at work?”
I replied when I saw them. I didn’t do any dumb waiting-to-text back, but I did stop texting when he did, strictly replying to his messages.
I’m aware men are hunters. It’s in their lizard brains from way back in caveman days, and I like a little growling and grunting from my guy.
Some girls don’t.
I’m not them.
It’s not hard to do. I hate the feeling of waiting for a text that doesn’t come because I’ve stretched a conversation longer than it’s natural lifespan.
I did that with Brad way too often when he really pissed me off. I’d keep texting and he’d ghost me. It was a living nightmare waiting for texts he withheld to control me. That type of suspense can fuck right off. Have a conversation with a girl for cryin’ out loud! Face the fire and deal with it. Or leave!
Heading for our single shower to get ready for a relaxing morning at church, I yell to my girls, “I won’t hog the hot water!”
“I took one already! And Zoe is meeting us there.”
I yelp, “What?” and pad my curiosity into our kitchen to demand, “Tell me everything!”
Sam closes the fridge, a jug of almond milk in her hand. “Its very sordid!”
“Yes! I can’t wait!”
Pouring into our blender for a breakfast smoothie she’ll give me half of, my sister turns her back to me, then from over her shoulder we lock eyes. “She slept at Aunt Meagan’s and Uncle Jeremy’s.”
“You mean her parents?!!!”
Sammy grins. “Mmhmm.”
I flip around. “You suck!”
“You’re too easy!”
Lexi Cocker (Cocker Brothers Book 25) Page 15