Cocky Quarterback: Eric Cocker (Cocker Brothers of Atlanta Book 12)

by Faleena Hopkins

I glance down and cock an eyebrow. “You comin’ onto me finally?”

  The naked teammates around us laugh.

  Mott mutters, “Very funny. We’re startin’ off strong but the Dolphins are a good team. I say we throw ‘em to the sharks.”

  “Can’t fuckin’ wait,” I tell him as the hot streams and his talk of our competition, wash thoughts of Wren away. “Hey, Sooks, you rocked it out there. Bring that to Miami?!”

  “I plan on it!” he says, soaping his pectoral muscles and under his arms. “You think the coach saw?”

  We all eyeball the rookie. Nobody gives him an answer. Just that look.

  He throws up his hands, “Okay! I get it!” The bar of soap goes flying and skitters across the wet tile. “Coach sees all.”

  Tony jokes, “And we’re about to see all when you pick that up!”

  Everyone cracks up, and keeps showering. Mott eerily hums, “Better watch out, Sooks. Be verrrrrrrry careful.”

  The rookie chuckles but takes no chances, bending with his back to the wall, an act that makes us laugh harder.

  Dion mutters out of the corner of his mouth, loud enough for everyone to hear, “Who the fuck brings their own bar of soap anyway?”

  “I don’t like the bath wash,” Sooks shrugs. “Been using this since I was a kid.”

  Sticking my head under the stream, suds sliding down my naked body and feeling so good. “Don’t shower much, eh?”

  “Not the same bar! This is a new bar!”

  “Sure it is.”

  “I bought this a month ago.”

  “I smelled your stink, Sooks. Don’t feel bad.”

  “Hey, I smell good! All the time!”

  We eyeball him, before exchanging amused looks all around.

  Mott smirks and announces to the team, “I think we found our boy’s weakness.”

  Sooks’ eyes get real wide. “Nah, I don’t care about cleanliness.”

  “Cleanliness!?” Tony shouts, “Oh dayum, someone’s getting dunked in a steaming pile of shit by the end of the season!”

  Sooks freezes, head pivoting to check every face in eyesight. “You’re fuckin’ with me, right?”

  Nobody says a word.

  One after the other we turn off the faucets and take our dripping bodies to the stacks of freshly bleached towels.

  “You guys are messin’ with me, right? Right??!”

  One after the other, we file out and leave him wondering.

  Chapter 15

  WREN

  Peter greets me with a peck kiss, “Hey babe, sorry to keep you waiting.”

  Rising from a mossy, stone bench outside the gift shop and ticket booth for the Botanical Gardens, I shrug, “It’s okay. Such a pretty day I didn’t mind sitting out here. Especially with this fountain.” I wave my hand to the enormous pots, “All these flowers.”

  You’re overdoing it, Wren. Just be quiet. It’s okay to be angry, you’ve been waiting for a half hour. Text or not text, this date has been planned for a while. And you were on time.

  “I’ve been busy reading on my phone,” I add with a shrug, not listening to my own advice. I notice something is different and tilt my head. “You streaked your hair.”

  “Yeah,” he grins, raking his fingers through blue and purple woven into black. “You like it?”

  “Love it.”

  “Nice enthusiasm, Wren.”

  To cover my lack there-of, I take his hand and start walking with him to the ticket booth. “I’m just surprised. You didn’t tell me you were going to.”

  He stops. “Do I need permission?”

  Quieting my voice and hoping he will, too, I reassure him, “No, that’s not what I meant. But it’s fun…so it just seems like you might want to share things like that.” Sighing I glance away and back to him. “Is it just me, Peter, or are things weird between us?”

  “What? No!” He takes my face in his hands and plants a proper kiss on me, murmuring, “Maybe I wanted to surprise you. Ever thought of that?”

  I slip my arms around his neck, happy for the attention. “I love the streaks.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Mmhmm.”

  “Cool. You smell good.” He gives me one last kiss and takes my hand. But instead tugs me in the opposite direction toward Piedmont Park, its border ending here at the Botanical Gardens. And it’s free. “Thought we’d just hang out in the park since I don’t have that much time today.”

  My heart plunges into my feet. “But I said I’d never been here—”

  “The park is really beautiful, too.”

  “Yeah, we’ve gone there a bunch of times. And that’s why today we were here, to finally see inside the—”

  “Wren, why are you making a big deal out of this?” Since I’m speechless, he softens a little and offers, “We’ll go another day when I have more time.”

  “What came up?”

  “Work. One of the baristas didn’t show. Can you believe it? I told them I’d come as soon as I could. I knew you were waiting so let’s just make the most of this time, have fun, okay? I’ve got like forty-five minutes, tops. And that’s stretching it.”

  “Oh.”

  I let him lead me away from the pretty gift shop with colorful crafts, books on flora and fauna, seeds with easy how-to instructions, hand-made bird houses by a local artist, large glass dragonflies for your yard, and countless other things I won’t see now. I glance behind me, sad I hadn’t browsed while I waited for Peter to arrive. I was saving it for after, a kind of frosting on the cake of a lovely day I dreamt of having.

  God, listen to yourself Wren.

  Suck it up.

  Stop being such ‘a girl.’

  But…but…

  “You’re quiet,” he says as we stroll hand-in-hand down stone steps that date back to 1895. To the right is what used to be a horse racetrack, and it’s now where runners like to get their miles in.

  “I’m just tired I guess,” I lie as a grey squirrel dashes up the grassy hill to our left. “Why didn’t you say that you had to cut our day short when you texted me?”

  “Too long to type all that.”

  “Oh.”

  As we silently choose the path that will take us to the pond, he adds, “Besides, I really want to get my credit cards down, so I told them I need extra shifts.”

  Frowning I blink at him. “Wait, so you asked for this shift, or they called you?

  “Hey,” Peter says, lighting up and pointing with his chin. “Isn’t that the quarterback for the Falcons?”

  My head turns like someone shot a gun by my ear. Shocked, I lock eyes with Eric as he slows his jog to a stroll, loose tank top blowing in the breeze over running shorts that showcase his legs. His face and neck are beaded with perspiration, hair matted to his temples. And he’s not alone. A man equally as handsome slows down, too, his hair slightly lighter and longer on top. Their skin is the same golden glow, and the glint in their eyes, plus similar bone structure and height, makes me guess they must be related.

  “Wren, hey!” Eric smiles, just as surprised to see me but his hazel eyes flicker to Peter’s and my entwined fingers. Like he’s trying to split that up, he extends his palm to my boyfriend, brandishing that charming smile as he says, “Eric Cocker.”

  “I know! I’m a huge fan! The game in Miami last week, you were fantastic, man. You scored two touchdowns all on your own.”

  Eric’s smile is colored with his undisguised inspection of Peter’s hair, then to the two tats on his right arm. Blinking back to the present moment, he mutters, “Right, thanks. Never on my own, though. It’s a team effort.” Eric glances to me and holds my eyes a second too long. “This is my brother, Ethan.”

  “Nice to meet you…” Ethan says, his manner easy and friendly, but his eyes are so sharp it’s like he’s suspicious of Peter and not just asking, “What’d you say your name was?”

  “Pete! Sorry, didn’t say that did I?”

  I reach out to touch his back and as I do, I notice Eric’s eyes f
lick to the action. “Peter and I are both huge fans of the team. I told him I’d met you and he really hoped he’d have a chance, so this is…very cool.”

  Very awkward.

  Very much needs to end.

  Ethan crosses his arms, legs hip-width apart. “And your name is Wren? How do you know my brother?”

  “I bartend where the team hangs out.”

  “Ah,” he nods.

  Eric asks, “You guys come down from the gardens?” He motions to what I’m wearing. “Pretty dress, not something you wear to the park. Figured it has to be a special occasion.”

  “Turns out I have to go into work early.”

  Eric’s eyes flicker from my boyfriend back to me. “You’ve been though, right? I know you were raised right around the corner.”

  “When I was younger I was more into being a tom boy,” I smile.

  Peter says. “I’m from here, too. Never been to the gardens though. Not my thing.”

  Glancing back toward the entrance, which I can’t see from here, but nevertheless there’s longing in my eyes as I remember aloud, “My mom tried to take me all the time, but I fought her on it. So stupid.”

  Eric hits his brother’s chest with the back of his hand. “We’re members.”

  “All our life,” Ethan beams before they exchange an amused look and he laughs, “Mom makes sure of that!”

  “We should probably start paying for the membership ourselves soon, huh?”

  Ethan makes a face. “And rob her of her greatest joy in life?”

  “That’s why I haven’t done it.”

  “Bet Emma feels the same way.”

  “Dunno. Never asked her, but I would bet money, too.”

  “You bet too often. You’ve gotta be smarter with your money, like me.”

  Eric’s eyebrows rise. “Didn’t you say you’re going to install a bowling alley in your house?”

  “Pfft. Yeah, wouldn’t you?”

  “You’re a hypocrite. But can you imagine Mom’s face if we bought our own cards?”

  “So disappointed,” Ethan agrees.

  “You guys all have ‘E’ names?”

  The brothers glance to me, both nodding, both crossing their arms. Two sweaty hunks with shining eyes and loads of love for each other.

  Eric explains, “My dad’s one of six brothers, all ‘J’ names. So Dad did the lame thing and named the three of us all with the same first letter, too. A sucker for sentiment.”

  “I don’t think it’s lame,” I say, feeling self-conscious because Eric has been staring at me in a pretty obvious way. I don’t know if Peter can tell because he’s so starstruck. But I don’t want to chance it. “We have to go. Don’t get to see each other too often.”

  Peter glances to me. “Yeah we do.”

  I stare at him. “No, we don’t.”

  “We just hung out three nights ago.”

  Surprised I blurt, “Yeah, but we used to see each other every day.”

  Instantly I want to suck those words back into my mouth and not sound so needy and hurt.

  My boyfriend’s lips go thin.

  Eric saves us both by grinning that famous smile, “Pete, you take care of this girl. She’s a special one. Wren, say hey to Mike next time you’re working. Friday right?”

  I hesitate because it feels like he’s checking so he knows when to show up. He’s been doing that a lot lately. I’ve begun to look forward to it, without meaning to, so I wish he would stop. “Um, I don’t remember my schedule. But I’ll tell him you said hi. Nice to meet you, Ethan.”

  “You too, Wren. Have a good one.”

  They jog off and we hear Eric challenge, “Beat you to the parking lot?”

  Ethan shrugs, “Fuck no,” then shouts, “Go!” They explode into sprints with Eric taking the lead pretty quickly. “Oh right! How good are you behind a computer?!”

  Eric laughs, “What’s a computer?” He spins around, running backwards. Seeing me watching, he gives a head nod that seems to have meaning behind it. Not just a see-you-around tip-up, but more like he just figured something out.

  Peter mutters, checking his phone for the time, “Oh shit, I have to go soon. Can’t believe we ran into him. What a lucky day.”

  Chewing on my tongue is the only thing that stops me from heavy sarcasm.

  Chapter 16

  ERIC

  Up the old stone staircase I run and don’t slow until I hit the entrance for the Botanical Gardens. Families, tourists and couples dressed in nice, casual clothing mill about, either leaving the shop after a day here or purchasing tickets, excited to see the beauty.

  Ethan runs up to me, way sweatier than I am, sneakers stomping the pavement as he tries to stop. “I hate you,” he gasps, grabbing his knees and looking like he might puke.

  I pat his hunched back. “Probably shouldn’t spend so much time behind a computer, smart guy.”

  He smacks my shin. “You be the jock, I’ll be the rich genius with the hot wife and gorgeous daughter.” Rising up, he presses the heels of his hands into his lower back and groans, “I fuckin’ hate you.”

  People are watching us, trying not to be obvious. My face is pretty hard to hide. Seems like it’s everywhere this time of year. Bars have me and my high-profile teammates posted in their windows or by their TV sets. I’m sponsored by a couple athletic products so there are life sized cut-outs of me in stores throughout Lennox Mall and probably the one in Roswell, too. Haven’t been up there in a while. Nice place—but now that I live in the Highlands the farthest I go up is Buckhead for my family. Especially since this fuck and my sister are now neighbors.

  “Ya hear that? My own brother hates me!” I call out to the interested spectators. “Can you believe it?”

  The people smile, happy I’m not an asshole. You never know with celebrities. I met a stand-up comic once at a party with a lot of other big names, went up to the guy and introduced myself as a fan. Fuckin’ dick shined me on like I was foot fungus. He had a really big opinion of himself and I wanted to knock it down to size. Promised I wouldn’t let the notoriety get to me as my career progressed, like it did him. So I opt for making people laugh.

  Ethan’s grinning and shaking his head, calling out in his defense to anyone listening, “Did you see that ninety-nine yard touchdown my brother scored in Miami? Wasn’t that insane? And then you know what he does?” Comedic pause before his finger jabs at me. “He challenges me to a race! Sir, sir, hear me out, do you have any brothers or sisters?”

  The man nods with a knowing smile, holding his son’s hand, the boy gaping at me in recognition. “Sure do, three of ‘em.”

  “You can’t turn down a challenge like that, can you?”

  “No you cannot!” he laughs while his son gapes at with recognition.

  I shake hands with his dad first. “I’m Eric.”

  “Oh I know who you are. Mickey Jones, nice to meet you.”

  Squatting, I smile at his boy who can’t be more than nine years old. “I’m Eric Cocker.” I extend my hand. “What’s your name?”

  Star-struck he slides his dark fingers onto my golden ones, dwarfed by the size of my grip. “Gabe.”

  “Oh yeah? We’ve got a cousin named Gabriel, don’t we, Ethan?”

  My brother nods, red faced as he crosses his arms. “Is your full name Gabriel?”

  The boy shakes his head.

  I ask him, “You like sports?”

  “Yes!”

  “What’s your favorite?”

  “Golf.”

  My eyebrows shoot up and I exchange an amused glance with his father, rising up. “And here I thought he recognized me.”

  “Oh he did, but he plays golf. Football isn’t real to him yet.”

  “Ah, makes sense. You any good, Gabe?”

  His head bobs like crazy. “I got a hole in one once!”

  “I’ve never done that, so kudos to you my friend.” I offer him a high five and he smacks my hand, grinning with pride. Seeing kids high-five is the cute
st fucking thing.

  “It was nice meeting you,” Mickey grins as he leads his son to the ticket booth. Gabe waves at me, his whole arm engaged in the action.

  Now that it’s just Ethan and I again, he runs a hand through his hair and asks, “You have to do that everywhere you go, huh?”

  “Have to? I love that shit.”

  “Yeah?”

  As we walk into the parking lot, roof level with the sun beating down on us, I tell him, “Fuck yeah. The fans are what it’s all about. We’re out there playin’ on the field and they’re taking hours out of their lives to cheer for us. When we fail, they try to boost us up. When we win they win. It’s loyalty of the best kind. They wear the jerseys, show their pride, shout in the stands, or from their couches, or at the bars like O’Neal’s where Wren works. She was nice, huh?” Distracted I glance to the blinding asphalt and add, “I love my fans. This is me here.”

  Ethan mutters, “I know what Jeep is yours, dipshit. I didn’t know you felt that way about it all—that’s pretty amazing when you put it like that.”

  “Why are you surprised? You know me. Know our family. Loyalty is number one. Why wouldn’t that translate over to how I view my sport?”

  My brother and sister both got the same color eyes, warm chestnut. And right now his look lighter, the sun making them glow as he stares into the distance, thoughtful. “Yeah, I guess I just…I dunno.”

  After a few seconds of silence I prod him, “You just…what? Didn’t think I’d care as much as I do? Of course I care. Why do you think I work so hard?”

  He looks at me. “Truth? You’re my little brother. I always think of you as this goofy kid who followed me around everywhere. Hearing you just now, I don’t know. You’re all grown up, Eric.”

  “Thanks, Ethan. I really appreciate that.”

  We stare at each other a second. He smacks my arm and brings me in. “Come here.”

  “Sweatiest hug you’ll ever get,” I laugh, embracing him. As we pull apart I mutter, “Take that back. You just gave me the sweatiest one. Gross.” I pull out my keys. As he heads away I stop him. “Hey, what’d you think of Wren?”