“Sold.” He snatches his hat back.
* * *
“Cohen works at the Twisted Fox, right?” I ask from the passenger seat of his car.
We’re on our way to the barbeque. Our shopping trip ended with us ordering the uncomfortable desk and office chair, and we have a book of floor and paint samples.
He nods. “He co-owns it with a few of our other friends.”
I stiffen in my seat. “We’re not going there, are we?”
He shakes his head. “No, it’s at his house. I wouldn’t have invited you if it were there. It’s me and some friends. That’s it.”
“Cool.” I can’t believe I’m meeting his friends—friends who aren’t in Blue Beech.
Maliki moved out of Blue Beech years ago but came back when he took over the bar. All I knew was, he wanted out of the small town like I did and then was brought back—our reasons different. His was to save the family business. Mine was being around familiarity, my mom, and … him.
* * *
“Do I look okay?” I inspect my shorts, white tank, and red wedges I’m wearing.
Maliki slides his sunglasses off his face and sweeps his gaze over me. “You look perfect.”
I grab the handle but pause while taking in the home we’re parked in front of. It’s a small brick ranch with a bright yellow door and black shutters. The driveway is packed with cars and a motorcycle.
I exhale an uneasy breath. “What am I walking into?”
The excitement of meeting his friends has shifted into nervousness. I’m normally outgoing, the girl who strikes up conversation with others, but Devin’s cheating has changed me. I don’t want to talk to people or go out in public. I feel taken advantage of, humiliated, and manipulated. My trust in people sucks.
At least we’re not in Blue Beech.
“Walking into?” Maliki repeats. “You’re walking into a chill barbeque with my friends. This isn’t one of your parents’ social events. Don’t worry about being anyone but yourself.”
I rub the back of my neck. “Has Cohen told anyone how we met?”
“Doubt it. Cohen has more shit to worry about than gossiping.”
I relax in my seat. “I’ve decided I already like Cohen.”
He pats my thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Don’t worry. Just have fun.”
* * *
Maliki’s arm is draped over my shoulders, and I’m pulled into his side when we walk into Cohen’s backyard. The gesture shocked me, given he hardly touches me when we hang out. His arm fits around me perfectly, as if it belongs there. I could walk in his hold for the rest of my life and never want to pull away.
“Ki! My man!”
Cohen grins when he sees us, shuts the grill in front of him, and comes our way. “Glad you could make it and bring gorgeous company.”
I give the backyard a once-over. A group of girls are settled at a table, consumed in conversation, and three men are lagging behind Cohen, moving toward us.
“You must be Sierra,” Cohen says when he reaches us. “Maliki said you were coming, and he’s told me so much about you. Welcome to my home.”
Maliki was right. Cohen is acting as if I were a total stranger.
I laugh, a blush rising up my cheeks. “Whatever he’s told you are lies.”
Cohen motions toward me and looks at the guys. “Do you remember the youngster who kept sneaking into Maliki’s bar?”
“Yes,” one brown-haired man draws out, a lollipop in his mouth.
Another guy’s mouth drops open. “Holy hell! This is her?” He shakes his head with wide eyes. “I fucking love this shit.”
“Sure is,” Cohen replies. “This is Sierra.”
He introduces the guys.
Lollipop guy is Silas.
The holy shit one is Finn.
The only one not sporting a smile is Archer.
I give them a wave. “Hey.”
Cohen wraps his hands around his mouth and yells to the girls, “Georgia! Come here!”
A short blonde rises from her seat and narrows her eyes in our direction. “This’d better be good. We were having a deep discussion about The Bachelor.”
“Trust me, it’s so much better than that stupid-ass show!” Finn calls out.
“No, it’s not,” Maliki shouts. “Stay your ass over there!”
Georgia, I’m assuming, proceeds our way, and Cohen signals to me as soon as she joins us. “This is Sierra, aka the underage girl who kept sneaking into Ki’s bar.”
I hold my hand up to correct him. “Hey now, I was never underage. I was eighteen.”
“Eighteen is underage to drink, babe,” Maliki says with a hint of a smirk.
“She means not underage to screw,” Georgia says, rolling her eyes and grinning at Maliki. “I so called you and her having a thing.” Her attention drifts to me, her smile still intact. “I don’t know you, but I already like you for the hell you put him through.”
Maliki’s arm drops from my shoulders. “First off, I never talked about her to you. Your nosy ass eavesdropped on me talking about it with Cohen. I needed advice on what to do other than call the cops on her.”
Georgia dismissively waves her hand in his direction. “Shut up. You would’ve never called the cops on her.”
“Eh, he threatened to plenty of times,” I inform them, replaying all the times he said that in my mind. “Even threatened to call my parents.”
“Shit, dude, not the parent threat,” Finn cuts in. “I thought you were cooler than that.”
Maliki flips him off.
I shake Georgia’s hand when she introduces herself. She’s gorgeous, and her look is total nineties. Pink glitter is on her eyelids, and her blonde hair is pulled into two buns at the top of her head. From the smile on her face and the friendliness in her voice, I already like her.
“I hope you brought an appetite,” she says. “We have plenty of food.”
I eye the food on the picnic tables.
Shoot. It looks like a pitch-in.
“I’m sorry,” I rush out. “Maliki sprang this on me at the last minute, or I would’ve brought something.” Great. Already making a bad impression.
“Don’t worry,” Silas says. “We have plenty.”
“Maliki already paid me for you two,” Georgia says. “They pay, and I normally make—with the exception of the grill stuff.”
Maliki’s arm returns to my shoulders as we follow her, but I’m pulled away when Georgia snatches my hand.
“I’ll introduce you to the girls.” Her attention lands on Maliki. “I promise to bring her back.”
I nod when Maliki gives me a questioning look and allow Georgia to lead the way.
“She’d better like me when she comes back, you little shit-talker!” Maliki yells behind us.
“I can’t make any promises!” Georgia laughs.
When we reach the table, two women smile invitingly, and I take the chair next to Georgia.
“I’m Lola.” Lola is a fair-skinned girl with sleek, middle-parted hair.
“And I’m Grace.” Grace’s name matches her perfectly. Her strawberry-blonde hair is braided into a crown around her head, and she’s wearing a loose white dress.
“Sierra.” I smile. “I came with Maliki.”
Their grins widen.
“Oh, we noticed,” Lola comments.
“Do you date Cohen?” I ask Georgia.
“God, no,” she replies, scrunching up her face. “He’s my brother.” She shifts in her seat. “And these are my besties. None of the guys have girlfriends. They’re all too chickenshit to have anyone tying them down.”
Her eyes narrow toward the guys, and I follow her gaze, trying to single out the victim of her glare but can’t.
Hmm. Definitely a story there.
“Guys who work in bars,” Grace says, soft-spoken, and squeezes Georgia’s arm. “It’s what you get with them.”
Lola clears her throat and motions to me.
“Oh shoot,” Grace sputter
s out. “I didn’t mean it like that. Some of them. Maliki isn’t like that. He doesn’t bring different women with him to every barbeque.”
“Heck, the man hasn’t brought a woman with him, period,” Georgia states matter-of-factly. “Until you.”
“And that’s before we banned them from bringing girls,” Grace chimes in.
“Banned?” My gaze darts to each girl in nervousness. “Was he not supposed to bring me?” I’m so kicking his ass.
Lola shakes her head. “No, you’re totally fine. There was an issue a few years back with one of Finn’s girls. She was friends with Cohen’s baby mama and talking hella shit about him. It didn’t slide well with Georgia, obviously.”
I gape at them. “Wait, Cohen has a kid?”
Grace nods. “Noah.”
I give the yard a once-over, not spotting anyone under the age of twenty in sight. “Is he here?”
“No,” Georgia replies, checking her watch. “His aunt is dropping him off soon.”
My mind is spiraling with so many questions. “What about the mom? Is she here?”
Obviously not, but it’s the best way I thought to bring her up.
Grace grimaces. “Heather sucks.”
I shoot a glance to Georgia. “Why?”
Her pink lips curl in disgust. “A few months before she was due, out of nowhere, she told Cohen she wanted to put Noah up for adoption. Cohen begged her not to, promising to accept all responsibilities and custody. As soon as she gave birth, she ran off to Vegas. Cohen kept his word, is an amazing father, and hasn’t spoken to Heather once. Noah has met her a few times when he’s been with Jamie but doesn’t know who she is to him.” She sneers in disgust. “We prefer to keep it that way to protect him.”
My stomach clenches. How could someone do that to their child?
Poor Cohen.
“Wow,” I draw out, my eyes glued to Georgia. “Who’s Jamie?”
“Heather’s sister,” Georgia answers. “She has a relationship with Noah.”
I peek over at Cohen. “That sounds like one giant ball of headaches.”
Georgia shrugs and grabs her beer. “Not really. We’re grateful for Heather’s absence.”
As if in perfect timing, a little boy races into the backyard, tennis shoes stomping against the grass, and takes over everyone’s attention.
“Dad!” he shouts, clutching something in his hand and holding it in the air. “You won’t believe what Jamie bought me!”
Affection spreads over Cohen’s face, and he releases a humph when the boy jumps into his arms, squeezing him into a tight hug.
Noah holds the item on display when he’s dropped to his feet. “It’s an iPod!”
The kid is adorable—a little Cohen with his brown hair and small frame.
Noah’s smile can’t be contained as he jumps up and down. “It’s blue!”
Cohen bends down on one knee to Noah’s level. “That’s so neat, buddy!”
“Hey, Jamie!” Georgia shouts, causing my attention to slide to a tall brunette woman coming our way.
“Hey,” she replies around a yawn.
“You want to stick around?” Georgia offers.
Jamie shakes her head. “I’m working a double tomorrow and in dire need of sleep.”
“That’s awesome that you’re a doctor.” Grace shudders. “Blood makes me squeamish.”
“Everything makes you squeamish,” Finn says, crouching behind her and ruffling his hands through her hair, disheveling her braid.
“Especially you.” She reaches up, sticks her palm in his face, and nudges him away.
Cohen and Noah run over to us.
“An iPod?” Cohen asks Jamie. “You didn’t have to do that. You spoil him too much.”
Jamie laughs—a forced one. “It’s for selfish reasons, so I can FaceTime him.”
“You always FaceTime me to talk to him. It’s never been a problem,” Cohen responds with a hint of a frown.
Her face is expressionless. “You’re busy sometimes.”
He winces before checking himself. “We have plenty of food.” His hands sweep toward the table. “Stay.”
“Thanks for the offer, but I can’t.” She bends down to hug Noah. “Make sure you call me, okay?”
Noah hugs her back and then salutes her. “You got it!”
She kisses his head and tells everyone good-bye.
“She is pissed at you,” Georgia sings when Jamie disappears from the yard.
“She’s not pissed at me,” Cohen imitates in her high-pitched voice.
“Why’s she pissed at you?” Grace asks.
“She FaceTimed Cohen to talk to Noah the other day, and some chick answered, asking Jamie twenty-one questions about who she was.” Georgia rolls her eyes and shoots a glare at Cohen. “That’s why she bought the iPod.”
“I need to quit telling you stuff,” Cohen mutters.
He shakes his head, grabs Noah, and throws him over his shoulder. Noah breaks out in loud laughter, holding on around his neck when Cohen takes off running.
“Are he and Jamie a thing?” I ask Lola when he’s out of earshot.
She shakes her head, scraping a hand through her hair. “They totes should be, but Cohen is too chickenshit.”
“You have to admit, it’d be confusing for Noah,” Grace chimes in.
“Love is love,” Georgia inputs.
Both girls stare at her in sadness.
“Yes, and men are stupid,” Grace says while Lola nods in agreement.
I jerk my head back when Maliki comes behind me and whispers in my ear, “You doing okay?”
My stomach flutters. “Yes.” There’s a slight rise in my voice.
He squeezes my shoulders. “Let me know if you need anything or if these heathens give you too much trouble.”
The three of them tell him to screw off in three different ways.
“Uncle Maliki!”
Maliki turns as Noah charges toward him and hops on his back.
“I’ve missed you so much!”
“I’ve missed you more,” Maliki replies with a cheerfulness in his tone I’ve never heard.
Noah holds on to him as Maliki jogs over to the guys playing cornhole and drops Noah to his feet. They go to one board, and Cohen and Finn take the other. They play while Archer sits in a chair, a beer in his hand, and watches them. Correction: he watches Georgia while pretending to pay attention to the game.
“You two are cute,” Georgia says.
“Huh?” I ask, turning to look at her.
She points back and forth from Maliki and me. “You and Ki. You’re cute together.”
Her comment startles me.
“Oh, no. We’re friends.”
“For now,” Lola chirps. “I’ve seen Maliki around women at bars, and believe me, babe, he’s never checked to make sure they’re okay.”
“He’s also never looked at them like he does you,” Georgia adds. “You two will definitely be banging.”
I shake my head, wishing I could hide the blush creeping up my cheeks, as tingles sweep up my back and face.
They wouldn’t say that if they knew I was still married.
* * *
Maliki plants his hand on my shoulders. “You ready to eat?”
My stomach growls at the mention of food. “Yes, I’m starving.”
He holds out his hand, helping me from my chair, and I follow him to the table covered with food. It all looks delicious, and I take one of everything. When I’m finished making my plate and I head back to the table, Archer is in my seat next to Georgia. She’s glaring at him, and he shakes his head, chugging his beer. There’s only one chair open at the table, so Maliki leads me to a separate two-top table.
“I can’t believe you told them about me sneaking into the bar,” I say as soon as we sit.
Maliki pops the top of his beer and leans back in his chair. “I wanted Cohen’s opinion. It’s not like I could ask anyone in Blue Beech, seeing it was you and word would’ve spread lik
e wildfire. I needed someone to vent to.”
“I’m delighted I was on your mind.”
“Can I sit with Uncle Maliki?” Noah yells, charging toward us without waiting for an answer.
“Sure,” Cohen answers, heading our way with two plates in his hand.
I push to my feet. “I’ll find him a chair.”
“Unnecessary,” Maliki mutters, anchoring his large hands around my waist and dragging me onto his lap. “This one is big enough for two.”
Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.
I’m on his lap.
My heart freezes and then pounds like it’s prepared to jump out of my chest, so I can hand it over to him. My mind scrambles in so many directions that I’m waiting for it to explode. Maliki is a different man outside of Blue Beech, and I love this Maliki.
Noah falls into my chair when Maliki gestures for him to take it. Cohen drops Noah’s plate on the table and sets a bottle of root beer next to it. When his gaze travels to us, he quirks a brow, smiles, and pushes my plate to me.
“Who are you?” Noah asks, kicking his feet against the chair legs when Cohen leaves.
I grin. “I’m Sierra. Who are you?”
His attention stays on me. “I’m Noah. Are you Uncle Maliki’s girlfriend?”
Maliki rests his hand on my thigh, causing me to take a moment to answer him.
I shake my head, wishing I could curse Maliki. “No, I’m his friend.”
Noah scrunches up his face. “You sure look like his girlfriend.”
We are in need of a subject change, pronto, and Maliki isn’t jumping to stop him from asking these awkward questions.
I pick up my fork. “How old are you, Noah?”
He holds up a hand. “Five but almost six.”
“Wow, you’re old.”
“Yes, he is,” Maliki says. “I’m waiting for him to sprout some gray hair.”
Noah straightens in his chair. “No! That isn’t happening until I’m ninety-two hundred.”
Maliki chuckles. “Ninety-two hundred, huh?”
“Yes.” He grabs his hot dog and points to Maliki with it. “Don’t forget you promised to do something fun with me for my birthday.”
Just Roommates Page 13
