Cook Brothers: The Whole Flipping Family

by BJ Harvey

  Knowing we’ve parked far enough away to have a small amount of privacy, I reach over and flatten my hand on Cohen’s chest. I lift my chin, so our eyes are locked, and our mouths are almost touching. Flattening my hand on his chest, I drag my tongue along my bottom lip, grazing Cohens as I go, all the while dragging my hand down over his abs, over his belt, and pressing firmly down on the hard length I knew would be below.

  He huffs out a “damn,” his thumb still trapped against my clit twitching back and forth, testing my determination.

  “Your place or mine after work tomorrow?” I whisper, the tip of my tongue darting out again.

  “Any place private and close where I can have you flat on your back in the shortest possible time,” he says on a groan, my palm moving up and down at a torturously slow pace. Just enough to tease him, but not enough to get him even close to getting off. Tit for tat has never been so much fun.

  I give his cock a firm squeeze, just how he likes it. “So I want you; you want me. Jamie and Jax know you wanted to sleep with me. Val definitely knows I want to sleep with you, and we both have to get through Thanksgiving with our families and not give away the fact we’re screwing like rabbits every chance we get. Oh, and we’ve got to get through this shift without getting off even though I’m aching to come right now.”

  His loud, pained groan fills the air between us. I shoot him a sassy grin just before I grip the back of his neck and give him a hard and fast kiss with a touch of tongue.

  Pulling back before I’m tempted to do more, I grab my backpack from the floor and hop out of the car, leaning in the open space left behind.

  “Good chat, Cass,” I say before shutting the door behind me, comfortable in the knowledge my partner is in no state to follow me.

  I sashay along the sidewalk, and down the driveway toward the firehouse, leaving him behind.

  Thanks to Cohen, there’s absolutely no way I won’t be thinking about his body, his hands, his talented tongue, and his hips, so talented they deserve an award, in the foreseeable future.

  I’m pent up, and it’s only been a few hours since he used his fingers to make me sing in the shower.

  But at least I won’t be the only one.

  He calls my name behind me, which makes me sway my hips and ass just that little bit more. I look at my watch—twenty-four hours and fifteen minutes until our shift ends.

  Shouldn’t be too hard, right?

  That’s what he said.

  15

  Skye

  Working on Thanksgiving means there’s never a dull moment. From deep-fried turkeys gone awry to family disputes turning bad, our first break doesn’t come for six hours, and it’s been busy all morning.

  Now we’ve got our prearranged one-hour meal break, and that means lunch with the Cooks, then after our shift ends, it’s straight to my parents’ house.

  It’s also the first time we’ve been together around our families since we started having sex, which means I’m as nervous as a turkey on Thanksgiving.

  There are three reasons for this. The first is I’m walking into a house where all four of my landlords will be present, and since Co has already said that Jamie warned him off acting on his physical attraction to me, it means I really need to act like normal Skye.

  Which brings us to problem number two: normal Skye is kind of crazy and outspoken, and is known to ramble. Rambling means anything could come out of my mouth, which means it’s possible I could blurt out anything that comes to mind at any time. For example, if Marcy was to say, ‘Skye, we haven’t seen you around lately,’ I could reply, ‘That’s because I’m either working or nailing your son into the mattress—unless he’s doing the nailing.’

  Then three, there’s the distinct possibility that I fall into my usual comfort level around Cohen’s family, and I forget our little secret—a mutual decision we’ve made—and make it obvious that our friendship extends into the bedroom too.

  “Hey,” Co says after pulling the ambulance into his parents’ driveway and shutting off the engine. He slides his hand onto its new favorite resting spot, half an inch away from the crease of my hip. “You’re wound up tight. I thought you’d be relaxed, given I wore you out last night.”

  My lips curve up, and I turn my head to face him. “If you think you wore me out, you’re sorely mistaken, Cass. It takes a lot to beat me in the sex department.” I cover his hand with mine and pat it. “You’ll just need to try harder next time, bruiser.”

  His eyes flash in a mix of amusement and heat that has me shifting in my seat. “Bruiser?”

  “I still have finger-shaped grip marks on my hips from a few days ago when you mauled me against my front door.”

  He arches a brow. “Is it mauling when said mauling is mutual?”

  Snickering, I shake my head. “Probably not, but that’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.” My grin widens, and his gaze drops to my lips.

  “Don’t be cute and give me ideas when I can’t act on them, and don’t give me a hard-on when I have to walk through my mother’s door. She’s not a woman who misses shit like that.”

  “How on earth did you get away with anything as a kid?” I ask, undoing my seatbelt and gently removing Cohen’s grip on my leg to help clear my mind—and help with his obvious growing problem.

  “I didn’t. I just didn’t get caught by my parents, and having three brothers and a sister does have its advantages. Something you no doubt know,” he says with a knowing smirk. “Now, let’s get inside before someone comes out and interrupts us.”

  “We’re not doing anything.”

  “That wouldn’t stop them,” he says, hopping out of the bus.

  “Skye!” Mrs. Cook says as soon as we enter the kitchen. Ronnie, Ronnie’s sister Gilly, April, April’s ex-mother-in-law Betty, Faith, and Cohen’s sister, Abi, all stop what they’re doing and turn their heads our way, watching the Cook matriarch cross the room toward us.

  She pulls me in for a hug before stepping back and eyeing me up. “Where have you been hiding? It seems like weeks since you were last here.”

  I smile, her mood infectious. “I’ve been busy working or sleeping.”

  “I hope my son hasn’t been working you too hard.”

  I try, I really try, but I open my mouth before I can think not to. “He’s probably not working me hard enough, to be honest. There’s so much more I can do. Some days I wonder if he’s going easy on me because he doesn’t think I can hack it.”

  A quick scan of the room has Ronnie smirking, April tilting her head, Abi’s forehead bunched up, Faith biting her lip, and Betty still dishing up platters for the meal. There’s a rough choking sound from beside me before Cohen clears his throat.

  “Hey, Mom,” he says gruffly. “Anyone would think you’re not missing me.”

  Marcy’s face snaps to her youngest son, but her smile is replaced with a scowl. “Cohen Patrick Cook, you better not be holding back anything from Skye. Just because she’s younger and you’ve got more years’ experience than her doesn’t mean she can’t handle anything you can.” Then she points her finger in his face, and it takes everything I have not to burst out laughing. “And if it’s because she’s a girl, just remember you’re in a room full of women, and we’re all capable of inflicting pain in a multitude of ways. Understand?”

  To his credit, Co holds up his hands in the air. “Hey, I didn’t say anything. It was all Skye. She started this.”

  A snort escapes me, and I quickly try to cover it with a cough. So much for not making it obvious.

  Marcy turns her head and meets my eyes before shooting me a wink and looking back at her son. “If you remember one thing, remember this. The women are always right, and if they’re not, just smile and nod and let them believe they’re right, then your life will be much easier. Even if you have to fix whatever they’re not right about afterward with them being none the wiser. Okay?”

  Now I just out-and-out laugh, as do the rest of the women in the group.

&nb
sp; “I need a beer, and I can’t even drink right now,” Cohen grumbles. “I’m feeling more like a girl than when Abi used to dress me up as her baby sister and call me Colleen.” He dips his head and says in a low voice. “You’ll keep, and there’ll be no holding back.”

  He turns back to his mother and wraps an arm around her shoulder, leading her into the kitchen. “Now, Mom, you know Mrs. Rossi is feeding us dinner. Do you think you’re going to beat her world-famous tiramisu?”

  “Cohen!” I hiss, running after them. The last thing I need is our mothers having a Thanksgiving battle, or being encouraged to ‘out-do’ each other. “Honestly, Mrs. Cook, there’s absolutely no competition. You both make fantastic food… that’s equally good.”

  Marcy is lovely and has a heart of gold—albeit, she’s slightly naughty with the libido of a twenty-year-old. On the flip side, my mama is sweet as pie but is never one to be bested by another mother, especially when food is involved.

  By the determined look on Marcy’s face, I have a feeling that when we leave, Cohen will have to roll me out the door. Then he’ll definitely have to do all the hard work—our actual job this time—because I’ll be in stage one of my Thanksgiving food coma.

  Then we’ll have to do it all over again in six hours.

  “Skye, go through to the living room and take a seat,” Marcy says with a look of sheer determination that has me scared. “Time to show you what a Cook Thanksgiving meal is all about. Have to make sure you keep coming back. You’re family now.”

  There’s a suspicious glint in her eye that I am in no way prepared to analyze. It’s full of hope and mischief and assumptions, proving Marcy Cook is too astute for her own good. Thankfully, Axel runs inside through the back door, helping me dodge whatever bullet was headed my way.

  “Is lunch ready now?” he asks the women in the kitchen.

  “Yeah, Ax. Do you want to take Skye to the table?” Marcy replies.

  His answer is to run to my side and grab my hand.

  “Hey, Ax.”

  “Hey.” Then I’m being dragged out of the kitchen and down the hallway. “Don’t worry, Skye. You’ve got an ambulance full of medicine if you eat too much. And then I’ll help Cohen put the sirens on. I’ll look after you. And my mom’s a nurse. She can help too, just like last night when she was wearing her nurse’s uniform and looking after my dad.”

  I bite my lip, my head threatening to explode with the need to laugh. Then I lose it.

  “Dad gave me ten bucks for my swear jar too. All he said was ‘who’s your daddy now’ and when I called out ‘you’re my daddy’ from my bedroom, he said the S-word.”

  I burst out laughing before looking down at Axel’s scrunched up face. “You’re my favorite Cook man ever.”

  His little chest puffs up at that. “Uncle Cohen, Skye’s my girlfriend now. Not yours,” he says, then he runs ahead, leaving me tripping over my feet when I lock eyes with Co across the room.

  “Stealing my nephew, huh?”

  I give a one-sided shrug. “He’s cute. Why not?”

  I’m still in shock as to how fast the Cook men descended on the food like vultures. I have been to Cook family events before, but never in my life have I seen a table full of food be decimated like that. It was literally like the Hunger Games, just with less murder. Except for when Jax asked Faith to pass the candied yams and then side-swiped the roast potatoes right off Bryant’s plate when he was busy ogling his wife. Apparently, this broke some family rule about food on a man’s plate being sacred and off-limits, which distracted the twins long enough to give the rest of us a chance to get the good stuff.

  I didn’t have to worry, though. Marcy sat me right next to her, and she took it upon herself to serve up for me.

  Thankfully Cohen had my back and let me covertly transfer what I couldn’t eat onto his plate with a whispered “I’ll fill you up later,” which did not help, considering I was sitting next to his mother and didn’t need to be thinking about Cohen doing anything to me—as much as I was looking forward to it.

  By the time our break is up, I’m full and woozy and ready for a nap. Unfortunately, duty calls and we leave before dessert can be forced upon me. Not to be outdone, Marcy sends us out the door with two bowls of dessert and makes me promise to let her know if her food compares to my mom’s.

  “Well, that was fun,” I say after using the radio to tell dispatch we’re back on duty.

  “Yeah. My nephew is cutting my lunch without even knowing he’s doing it, my big brother is into role play—something I didn’t need to know—and you, brat, have a dirty mouth without saying anything dirty.”

  I arch a brow. “Are you complaining about my dirty mouth? You weren’t this morning when I woke you up with it.”

  “And I won’t the next time you’re on your knees when I walk through your front door.”

  I squeeze my thighs together and try to ignore the heat shooting through me at his words. “You don’t play fair, Cass.”

  “Never said I did. But now you’re not thinking about anything other than me and you naked and dirty, and that’s all I wanted,” he says with a shrug.

  As per the norm, that’s when dispatch calls through with a laceration injury requiring a paramedic on-site.

  “Thanks for coming though. I know it’s not what we have and what—”

  “Co?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m your work wife and best friend before any of the sex stuff, okay?”

  “I know, it’s just—”

  “Co?”

  “What?”

  “I’m saying you don’t have to thank me. I got fed, I had a few laughs, and I gained a new eight-year-old boyfriend. I couldn’t ask for more. Now, can we go help the old lady with her cut arm and not have a thoughtful—yet entirely unnecessary—deep and meaningful?”

  I watch his lips slowly curve up into a sexy-as-hell smile that makes me want to jump his face and ride it all the way home. “Okay, brat. No deep and meaningful. Now let’s go.”

  “Yes, because the sooner we do, the quicker the shift will go. Then I can test out your mouth at the same time as you test mine.”

  “Fuck, brat, you play dirty.”

  “Just how you like it.”

  “Cohen, would you like some more turkey? A strapping young man like you needs to eat.”

  I roll my eyes—only because Mama isn’t looking—and look across the table at my partner.

  “No, thank you, ma’am. Any more and I won’t be able to drive home,” he replies. My lips twitch as I wait for the inevitable.

  “Oh, hush now. Don’t call me ma’am. Call me Maria, please.”

  Cohen nods, and a quick scan of the table finds my brothers and sisters with various expressions of amusement.

  As expected, Mama went all out—which says a lot since she always goes all out—and ever since we walked through the door forty minutes ago, she’s been near-on force-feeding Cohen through every course. I’d expected nothing less given she knew we’d already been with Cohen’s family earlier in the day.

  Ever the gentleman, this is the first time he has refused, and I’m sure the only reason Mama is letting it go is because there’s no way any of us can eat any more.

  She turns to me. “And Skye, have you had enough too? You probably worked off your lunch during work, helping all those people.”

  I swallow down a snicker. Val doesn’t bother trying to hide hers, earning narrowed eyes from our mother.

  “I’m good, Mama. Why don’t you just relax? There’s no need to play host anymore. Co is just like a piece of furniture around us.”

  Her head jerks back. “Sorry, Cohen. Ignore my daughter. I’ve tried my best with all my children. Some of it took, obviously…” she says, giving me her trademark disapproving side-eye. “Some of it didn’t.” My mouth drops open with a gasp. All the men at the table—Cohen, Marco, Luca, Gio, and my father—look down into their laps and chuckle.

  “Mama, I’m your favorite.”
r />   She narrows her eyes. “A mother doesn’t have favorites.”

  “Bullshit,” Marco says on a cough, setting off another round of laughs.

  “I’m the baby. The youngest is always the favorite; don’t you agree, Cohen?”

  He holds his hands up and shakes his head. “I’m staying out of this one. You’re on your own, brat.”

  Mama’s eyes soften. “A pet name. That’s lovely.”

  Oh shit. Abort! Abort!

  “Hey, Val. What happened with that guy you were talking to at the club?” I ask, lifting my glass of wine to my lips to hide my grin.

  She elbows me in the ribs, and I grunt upon impact. “Uh, what guy?”

  Then just as I’d hoped, the air in the room changes with big brother bravado. “Yeah,” Marco asks, brow lifted my sister’s way. “What guy?”

  My eyes drift over to Cohen, whose shoulders are shaking with silent laughter. “Well played,” he mouths. I dip my head as if to curtsy then shrug.

  “There’s no guy,” she hedges. I turn in my seat to watch the show orchestrated to take the spotlight off Cohen and me.

  “Then why would Skye say there was?” Luca says.

  “You know I’ll run a background check on him,” Gio adds.

  Val gasps and points her finger at him. “You will not! You can’t do that without a reason.” She leans back in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest with a satisfied grin.

  Unfortunately, Gio replicates her expression, yet his is all-knowing. “Oh, you’d be surprised the leads I might have to investigate.”

  “Boys…” Papa says, his voice low yet tinged with amusement. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before when it comes to the brothers being more than protective when it comes to us girls.

  Cohen just sits there, watching this all play out.

  I meet his eyes. “I’d apologize for my brothers’ behavior, but I know you’ve already been on the other end of this alpha routine of theirs.”