Cocky Romantic: A Hot Romantic Comedy Stand Alone (Cocker Brothers of Atlanta Book 4)

by Faleena Hopkins

  “To Number One,” I mutter, and we all drink.

  “Let’s do another!” Simone purrs, glancing between the twins. Jason pulls his focus from where it was locked on my shocked gaze and smiles at Simone.

  “Count me in,” he rasps.

  Oh shit. What is going on?

  Something is happening tonight and only two people know what it is. The Cocker Brothers.

  My muscles tense as I hold my glass out. “Pour.”

  Simone whoops and grins, “Uh oh, Sarah might get on a table again!”

  I shoot her a look. “Never again.”

  “Maybe!” she smiles, holding out her glass for more liquor.

  “This tastes very good. Nice choice,” I say loudly, changing the subject.

  After the second shot Justin begins passionately detailing the reasons why there are so many potholes in Atlanta. At five-two I’m the tiniest of anyone here, so when he absently goes to pour me a third, I wave my hand and argue, “Not yet.”

  He pauses to consider my refusal, grabs my glass from my hand and ignores me while he pours again and continues, “But here’s the problem, the cost. It will cost taxpayers too much money and so what do they do? They keep voting against any of the bills we offer! But then they go back to griping. Earlier this year –”

  Simone, bored as hell, interrupts him, “Can we change the music?”

  “Justin, that’s too much!” I’m pointing to the glass he’s handing me. It’s full.

  He got too distracted. Justin is aiming for the Senate. I’ll be surprised if he doesn’t get there, with how much he seems to love every aspect of it. I’ve never seen someone so fired up over holes in the ground.

  As Jason goes to change the song, Justin coldly tells Simone, “You interrupted me while I was talking.”

  “Well, the beat behind your riveting tale was distracting me.”

  His eyes flicker and he decides to let it go.

  From behind my tequila glass I’m secretly spying on Jason. The muscles rippling on his back as he pulls vinyl records out from multiple shelves, repeatedly bending at the knees then straightening again, are killing me. The way those jeans pull over his thigh muscles makes me feel toasty.

  “You’re giving up on Pandora?” I call over.

  “Yep,” he smiles over his broad shoulder. “I’m taking back control.”

  Hearing the word ‘control’ from his lips when I’ve had this much tequila has the unfortunate consequence of making me extremely moist. Shifting my weight, I bite my lip while Justin’s deep voice blurs.

  The more time here stretches, the more I want to stretch my legs. Wide open. And there’s no one to do it with.

  Fuck it.

  Down the hatch.

  Sarah

  Wow, that’s some good stuff right there.

  “Burn baby burn,” I whisper.

  Simone is crunching away on chips and salsa and she’s begun to tell Justin about the time we went to San Diego for her to play a club. “My band drove all the way over there with us. It was so fun. And oh my God,” she breathes, staring off into the memory. “The beach at midnight! Have you ever been?”

  “No.” He’s smiling from behind his glass, studying her as she sways with the invisible breeze. “But I’m guessing there were palm trees.”

  “So many palm trees! And the sand was cool on my toes. Wasn’t it, Sarah?”

  I blink away from Jason to her. “Yep. It was cool.”

  “Sooooo cool. And the night air was warm. Not like here where it’s humid, but just this beautiful light wind blowing all over our bodies.” She slides her hands down her breasts as if she’s alone. And she’s not meaning to do that – she’s just getting really lubed up like I am.

  We are in trouble.

  Otis Redding’s These Arms of Mine comes on and Simone moans in happiness.

  Equally a fan, I start laughing with my own brand of much quieter joy. Just a tiny, under my breath laugh.

  Justin reaches over and takes the glass from my hand. He sets it on the counter and starts to dance with me. His warm hand slides around my lower back while his other cups mine, old school-style. Surprised but secretly happy to be swept away, I look into Justin’s eyes, my chin tilted way up.

  He whispers, “Hey Sarah,” to me in a voice I’ve never heard this devil use before. It’s very sexy.

  In a more hushed tone that no one can hear over the music, I whisper, “What are you doing, Justin?”

  He glances over to his twin. I follow his lingering gaze and see Jason approached by Simone. But his eyes are on me and they are narrowed with fury. I’ve seen him pissed off before, and at my doing, so I know his rage when I see it.

  Simone comes up behind him and slides her arms around his torso. He flickers and turns to take her to where Justin and I are dancing.

  Frowning back up to the devilish half of this pair I see a glint of triumph in Justin’s eyes as he fixates on me. He’s got something up his sleeve, but what I don’t know.

  Then it occurs to me for the first time…he’s going to make a move!

  And Jason knows Justin will use me up and toss me aside…so he’s feeling protective.

  That’s why Jason was angry.

  He knows his twin is a bad guy.

  I have to get out of these arms.

  But Otis isn’t making it easy.

  I challenge Justin with a hushed, “I’m not falling for this crap, just so we’re clear.”

  He smirks and whirls me far enough away that Jason and Simone can’t hear us. I glance over to them and see she’s whispering in Jason’s ear. From the look on his face, she said something very hot and dirty. Pain twists my gut.

  Justin cups my chin and brings my attention back to him. “What crap, Sarah?”

  Swallowing against the sadness I’m feeling at being in the wrong twin’s embrace, I whisper, “I’m not interested.”

  “In what? My brother? Because that would surprise me very much.”

  My eyes widen with surprise and as Justin’s hands slides lower to rest on the top of my tailbone. “Why are you fondling me if you think I like your brother?”

  My eyelids go heavy under the heat of his breath as he leans down to whisper against my sensitive earlobe, “That’s a really good question. Now why do you think I’m doing it?”

  He hovers there, tightening his grip on my body and pressing into me. He’s not hard, so what the hell is he doing?

  Suddenly he’s yanked off of me and there stands Jason like he’s about to punch his twin in the face. “May I cut in?”

  My lips part and I glance to Simone who is so shocked her mouth could hold a whole Granny Smith apple.

  “Of course,” Justin murmurs with a smile of pure satisfaction. He heads for Simone. “May I?”

  She is speechless, totally flabbergasted and a little drunk, so she nods, holding up her arms for him to come in.

  I’m scared to look at Jason. I know Simone is going to explode any minute when her intoxicated mind clicks into what just happened.

  My head turns and I lock eyes with the object of my desire. His face is tight, his gorgeous eyes, darker than I’ve ever seen them.

  He steps close and my breath hitches as he whispers his hands down and around my shaking sides until his thick fingers press into the small of my back. I shiver as he pulls me against his body. We slow dance in silence, and I feel like I might faint. I’m so terrified of the imminent explosion, but I don’t want to push him away.

  “Jason,” I whisper, voice trembling.

  “Shhh,” he rasps in the shell of my ear. “She’s about to blow. Just give me this one moment to enjoy.”

  To enjoy?

  What does he mean?

  Oh my god.

  He’s basking in the fun of making her jealous.

  Agony rips into me as I shove him away. “Enough!” I shout. “God, just stop! It’s cruel! Stop!”

  Turns out Simone isn’t the one to lose it.

  Jason stares at me, s
peechless, eyes flitting in confusion. Or more likely embarrassment. Justin and Simone stop moving, too.

  Three sets of gorgeous eyes rest on mediocre little me.

  “I’m not a fucking pawn in your games!” I shakily tell Jason before locking eyes with his twin to direct my accusation at him, too. “You can stop using me to make Simone jealous. I have a heart! I have feelings! Although I’m sure you wouldn’t think a bitchy little shrimp like me could have them. But I do!”

  Jason’s eyes narrow.

  Simone struts over to stand up for me, but I see the relief barely hidden behind her protective expression. She couldn’t understand how she’d been abandoned just now, and it finally all makes sense.

  “That’s really not nice, Jason,” she says with firm annoyance.

  I’m far more than annoyed.

  I’m absolutely crushed.

  Jason is about to say something but Justin interrupts him with, “There’s someone at the door, Jase.”

  We all look. Over the music and my explosion, most of us didn’t hear the light, slow tapping. But there it is again. Jason holds my look as he passes me to answer.

  He opens the door and a very thin blonde woman falls inside. “Jason,” she hoarsely whispers.”

  “No fucking way,” his brother growls. Simone and I turn to him and he is seething. “Bernie. His ex.”

  Our heads whip back to see Jason tenderly picking the woman up. “There now. I’ve got you,” he rasps to her, voice filled with pain.

  Her eyelids are heavy. She looks used up, but she was very beautiful at one time. She’s high and there are track marks on her arms with blood dripping down them.

  “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Justin mutters.

  Cradling the limp woman he kicks the door shut with his foot, his eyes meeting mine. He blinks to his brother, “Run some hot water. And get my First Aid kit.”

  Justin turns on his heel for the kitchen, mumbling cuss words under his breath that I’ve never heard of.

  Jason

  “Hey,” I whisper to Bernie, gently laying her on my bed.

  Simone stays back and stares, but Sarah hurries over to pull back the covers.

  “She’s trembling.”

  “I know,” I rasp, torn up inside. Smoothing sweat-matted hair from Bernie’s forehead I lean down to meet her drifting eyes.

  “Help me,” she breathes, unable to focus.

  Justin walks over with angry strides, holding out the blue bowl. I glance to it and he reads my mind. “Yes, I washed it.” He hands me a rag and I take them both, dipping the soft cloth into lightly steaming water. My kitchen sink gets really hot, which I normally hate. You have to be careful not to burn yourself. But now I’m grateful for it. He takes the bowl from my hand. I squeeze some excess water from the cloth into it and turn to wipe Bernie’s pale face.

  “Call 911,” Simone mutters.

  “Not yet. She’s already been to jail once for this. Let me just…” I trail off, washing the face of the woman I once loved. Next I wash her right arm and nearly start crying. I have to turn my face.

  Simone grumbles, “This is fucking ridiculous. Who is she?”

  I snap, “Keep your voice down.”

  She storms off. I hear Justin follow her. Good, let him explain. I can’t deal with her bullshit right now.

  Sweeping the blood away with slow, gentle strokes, I stare at Bernadette Lancaster.

  She used to just do coke.

  Now heroin?

  Fuck, I hate the spiral of addiction. That it’s inevitable until they hit rock bottom, and everyone’s is different.

  When’s she going to hit hers?

  When’s it going to end?

  Sarah kneels at the side of my bed, gazing at Bernie with sadness and compassion. She must have taken the bowl from Justin because it’s in her hands now, and she holds it for me. I keep my eyes averted and mutter, “Thank you.”

  “It’s no problem.”

  Wringing out the cloth again, I nod and Sarah sets it on the floor while I clean the other wrecked arm.

  Sarah whispers, “Can you hear us?”

  “Her name’s Bernie,” I choke.

  She glances to me and nods, turning back to my ex and touching her cheek. “Bernie, can you hear us?”

  Bernie moans. Sarah feels her forehead and then touches two fingers to her throat, checking her pulse like it’s not the first time she’s done this. After a good minute she meets my eyes. “She’s high but she’s not overdosing. Her heartbeat is strong. We have to check this jacket for drugs to make sure she can’t add more to the mix.”

  Careful of stabbing myself with a hidden needle, I check all of Bernie’s pockets and shake my head. “The stuff probably belonged to a john.”

  Sarah’s auburn eyebrows knit together, but then comprehension waves over her as she realizes I’m saying Bernie hooks. I’m grateful there’s no judgment on her face as she turns back and whispers, “Do you remember your name?”

  “Bernadette,” comes the moaning answer. “Bernie…”

  “Good. That’s very good. And you found your way to Jason’s. You’re safe now, Bernie,” Sarah whispers. “Jason is here with you. I’m a friend of his and you’re safe with me, too. Jason’s going to get you out of this dress, okay?”

  Bernie’s blinks twice. Sarah rises to give us privacy. She touches my shoulder on her way out. “The clothes reek of heroine. Wash her off and put her in your sweats. Want me to get them?”

  Grateful and calmed by her help, I motion to my dresser with my chin. “Go for it.”

  My gaze dances between Bernie and Sarah as she pulls her curly hair up and ties it into a knot on the top of her head — time to work. She shuffles through my drawers and pulls out my softest t-shirt after feeling all the others. Same with the sweatpants. Turning back to me she meets my eyes.

  “You have someone…?” I ask her, because she’s way too knowledgeable about what to do.

  Her lips purse and she gives a little nod. “My brother.”

  I watch her place the clothes by me. She touches my shoulder again and I cover her hand with mine for a moment. “Thank you.”

  She nods and slips her hand away to join the others. Bernadette’s body is skinnier than I’ve ever seen it. She allows me to change her without a fight. Not that I’d expect one after all we’ve been through.

  She’s dead weight as I lift her arms from her jacket and hold her off the bed to fully remove it. Her dress, shoes, bra and panties all come off with equal care on my part.

  She murmurs, “Thank you,” several times with a voice so blurry I can hardly hear her.

  But it’s enough to tell me that Sarah’s right.

  She’s not overdosing.

  She’ll come around.

  But it’s going to be a nightmare withdrawal.

  She used to happily sing that fucking Amy Winehouse song to my face as if it were her mantra. “They try to make me go to rehab. I say no, no, no.”

  And look what happened to Amy Winehouse…joined the Twenty-Seven Club, the roster of musicians who’ve all died at that exact age.

  Hendrix. Joplin. Morrison. Cobain.

  Fucking waste of amazing talent.

  Bernie’s in her thirties, the same age as Drew.

  They went to school together.

  Wait…I should call Drew.

  Oh shit, she’s got the flu.

  I can’t burden her with this.

  Especially after how much Jake hates Bernie for what she did to them and that dangerous situation she put Drew in.

  No, she came to me. I’ll handle this on my own.

  With her tucked in, I pick up her clothes and carry them out to join the others. The conversation has been sparse from what I’ve heard. The music was turned off a while ago.

  Simone’s not happy. Her eyebrows arch up. “Like blondes, I see.”

  “Simone, not now.”

  Rolling her eyes she gets up. “C’mon Sarah.”

  I can tell she doesn
’t want to leave.

  Justin stands. “Sarah can’t drive. I’ll take you home.”

  Simone glances to him, then to me. “Fine. Goodbye Jason.”

  I jerk my chin in response, and turn to get a plastic bag to put these rank clothes in.

  My brother says, “Sarah, you should stay.”

  “What?” Simone snaps.

  “She has experience with this.” To Sarah he explains, “I overheard what you said to Jason. About your brother. Can you stay here with him to help?”

  Simone’s eyes lower. “I forgot about Nathan. You should stay.”

  Sarah glances to me. “Do you want me to?”

  “Yes,” I rasp on an exhale. “Please stay.”

  Simone waves without emotion and heads for her bag while Justin gathers his suit jacket.

  He winks at me and I just shake my head.

  “You three have fun now,” he smirks on his way out. “Sarah.” He tips an invisible hat and vanishes.

  Jason

  Now that we’re alone, I don’t know what to say to her. This situation is crazy, and I haven’t forgotten her explosion and how hurt she was.

  And how wrong.

  “Your brother?”

  She nods, eyelashes lowering slightly. “He’s sober now. But he was a heroine addict.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  On a shrug, she mumbles, “No one’s life is perfect.”

  “Mine is.”

  She meets my eyes, chuckling at my joke. “No, yours just looks perfect. Turns out you’ve got problems like everyone else.”

  There’s an incredibly strong chemistry between me and Sarah that’s grounded in reality. Not in some kind of idea or fantasy. It’s not in my head, more in my bones. And it’s making it very hard not to pull her to me and explain what really happened with that dance.

  Shoving my hands in my pockets I restrain myself. “You know what, Sarah, you’re a walking dichotomy.”

  “How’s that?”

  “You busted my balls for months and yet in there with Bernie you were soft and kind. I like that side of you.”

  “Well, don’t get used to it,” she shoots back with a smirk. But then her face immediately softens with her voice. “What, did you think I would pull a ‘drill sergeant’ on her? She’s sick.”