“Must have been a Thursday.”
She laughs, kissing me gently. Just a soft peck. I stare at her, put my forehead to hers. Sensual fingers slide up the back of my neck, caressing my skin and slipping into my hair. Goosebumps fly up and I close my eyes, enjoying it.
Until a thump marks the arrival of French Fries, food runner hurrying off to handle the crowd’s demands.
Diana smiles, “I think he did that to separate us.”
“The loud thwack? Ya think?” I reach for a fry and feed it to her.
She frowns, “Not enough salt.”
“Picky picky.”
“I have high standards.”
Chuckling at her bringing that back up, I lock eyes with our bartender and mime what we need. She nods and reaches under the bar to a shelf we can’t see, then grabs my fresh bottle, uncapping and walking it over to us with two silver shakers, and more than enough shake to her walk.
Diana quietly notes, “She likes you.”
“I know.” We wait for the woman to leave, and I hand the salt to Diana. “Make it how you like it. This is your night.”
“Lucky me.” Concentration transforms her face into a frown, and when she’s satisfied, Diana picks up a fry and eats it, still frowning. “You know she likes you?”
“Of course.”
“You don’t care.”
“Why should I care?” I throw two fries in the air, open my mouth, but only catch one. “Damn,” I mutter as the other skitters across the floor and is immediately stepped on and squashed. “You want that?”
“All yours,” Diana smirks.
“You can keep up. I like that.”
“Maybe you should be quicker.”
“Oooooo!” I laugh, holding my chest. “Burn.”
“Crash and Burn.”
Admiring her style I nod slightly, “I miss those places,” shoving a few fries into my gullet.
“I’ve been warned against you, Wyatt.”
I blink, chewing on food and bad news, because even though she’s saying it in a teasing manner, I can tell Diana’s serious this time.
She’s been warned?
Against me?
That’s what’s bugging her?
It’s not about Grams.
“By one person?”
She shakes her head.
I nod, sucking on my teeth as my blood pulses with growing outrage. I’m keeping it at bay, self-control unwavering, but who the fuck would do that?
Washington is the only one she knows, right? And he would never do that to me. We give each other a hard time because that’s our thing, but he’s got my back no matter what.
So does my brother.
Then who?
Wait.
Hold up.
One is easy.
“Ronnie! Listen, don’t listen to Ronnie. She and I had a fling but nothing more. She knows that.”
Diana blankly asks, “Who’s Ronnie?”
“The server who dumped food on me.”
“Oh!” Her fingers reach for the thin stem. She takes a sip, eyes on the bartender. “Yes, she warned me.”
Irritated, I shrug, “Who cares about the other one.” After a second I can’t help it. “Who was it? Who warned you, besides Ronnie?”
Diana stares at me. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
My anger flickers, the fire inside burning hotter. I mutter, “Yeah,” and take a sip from my new bottle, wondering who the hell is darkening my name.
Probably her friends.
Cockers are infamous.
I’m not the only one of us with a reputation.
But here’s a fact: a man doesn’t want the woman he likes to think ill of him.
This ale is cold, but my blood is white hot.
“What’d they say?”
“Wyatt…”
“What’d they say?”
She tilts her head. “What do you think they said?”
I nod, get out my wallet. “Can we have the check?” I call out.
Diana frowns, putting down her glass. “What are you doing? We’re leaving?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m going to take you home and not try to sleep with you tonight. I’ve got some cash, don’t need to wait for the bill to come. Nobody carries cash anymore, but I find in situations like this…” Dropping down enough bills to cover it, I take Diana’s hand and guide her to standing. “How’s your leg?”
Her eyelashes flutter with confusion. “Okay.”
Lacing our fingers, I lead the way. I mutter, voice dead, “This has been fun.”
She whispers, “Wyatt,” and doesn’t say another word until we’re almost at her house.
Chapter 28
Diana
Why did I open my big mouth?
Fear. That’s why.
I couldn’t get it out of my head — their warnings.
The bartender was the clincher. After the teenage popcorn girl, our server and the hostess who brought us the wine menu. Three times.
He only had eyes for me and they only had eyes for him. It was too many eyeballs, unreal, intense, like something conspiring to make me run. Especially after how many people said not to let him in.
My chin is on my palm, elbow on the armrest as I stare at our city passing us by, just like this chance.
A chance at what?
I might!
Isn’t that what I’d shouted impatiently to Lita? I was seriously considering having sex with him tonight. Because I didn’t want her telling me not to. Because I thought if I can’t have him as a boyfriend, a lover would be enough.
But would it?
Casual sex would be extremely fun with a man like Wyatt. Everything about him suggests that he’s good in bed.
Throwing caution to the wind and fear out the window — and every other proverb or adage or whatever you call them, that I can come up with — meant that taking this date light-heartedly seemed like a smart idea.
But that was before I enjoyed being with him so much I never wanted it to end. Before I brought the ending on myself because suspense for my inevitable demise was too much.
I steal a glance to my left, see hard eyes focused on late-night residential streets, lamps few and far between, porch lights having little effect on his dark mood.
I quietly tell him, “I shouldn’t have said anything,” watching his bearded jaw tick. “Wyatt, I—”
“Is it true? You were warned? That’s the truth?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then you should have told me. And you did. Doesn’t mean I’m happy about it but I have a right to know what’s going on behind my back.”
Turning in the seat, my dress’s fabric rustles. His sound system is off. We’ve been riding in silence. I can almost hear the pounding of my heart. And it’s fading. “One of them was kind of for a good reason.”
He cuts an angry glance my way, then back to the windshield so he can turn left onto my street, his grip around the wheel nearly breaking it.
I’m not going to tell him about Nathan. I can’t. Not now. He’ll flip out. I don’t want that. And I certainly can’t tell him what May said, his Grams. Imagine if he knew that she also was one, and that her hunch about us was nonexistent, a mystery.
I want to ease his anger.
The betrayal he’s feeling.
His pain.
“My roommate, Lita, she was the last girl — I think — that your brother Nicholas was with before he met…”
“Madison?” Wyatt blurts, eyes narrowing as he goes back in time. “Lita Scott is your roommate?”
“You know her?”
Hitting the steering with an oh-damn-that’s-it slap, Wyatt shouts with relief, “Didn’t recognize her with the mask on! That makes so much sense! Why didn’t you tell me?”
Because it was also your brother and great-grandmother. Lita’s my scapegoat who I thought you couldn’t possible know. She and Nicholas weren’t really a thing. I can’t imagine she met t
he family.
“Honestly, if I’d known you knew each other, I wouldn’t have told you. I’m kind of sorry I did. She was just being protective!”
He parks in the middle of our quiet road, glancing up the steps and picturing her face. “Of course she’d warn you!”
On a deep breath, I confess. “Well, now that you know…thing is, she cared about him.”
Wyatt locks eyes with me, sees I’m serious. “Really? They just hooked up.”
“Sometimes that means more to women than men.”
Wyatt stares at me, not quite believing. “But he was banging everyone back then. How could she think…” he trails off, shutting his mouth before he says something even dumber.
“Exactly. How could she think…” I let the implication that I have nothing to hope for here, either, hang in the air.
“Look, Diana—”
“It’s okay. I even told her that! I know who you are. I saw how they reacted to you tonight everywhere we went.”
He mumbles, looking anywhere but at me, “You don’t strike me as the insecure type.”
“Hey!” I snap, sitting straighter. “I’m not!” He’s still not meeting my eyes, so I smack his thick leg. “Wyatt, cut it out.”
“What?!”
“I don’t have to be insecure to not want…” Turning in my seat, I mutter, “Forget it,” and unlock the door.
“Hey.”
As soon as I open it, he’s out, leaping to the asphalt and running around to help me down. But my feet are planted before he makes it. “Too late.”
“Uh uh,” he growls, lifting me up in a different way this time, like he’s carrying me over a threshold, away from King Kong, or something equally heroic.
“I can walk!”
But Wyatt’s eyes are stone-cold-stubborn as he marches up our steps. I’m staring at his handsome face, so close I can see pores. His eyes have flecks of blue and brown and green even though they seem mostly brown from far away. Hazel, is that what color this is? Is there blue in hazel? They’re beautiful, and as he carefully stands me up I’m still staring at him.
Wyatt looks at me, brow furrowing. Mine is too. Our lips part to speak, but I grab his head and kiss him. He responds and backs me into the door, his mouth blending with mine, his hands clutching my waist, grip firm and controlling. I press my breasts into his chest, smash myself against unforgiving muscles as our tongues are at war.
We gasp, breaking free to stare for a second like we don’t know what’s happening, then back at it with kisses that consume my consciousness.
He drags his lips away and buries his face in my hair, licking my sensitive earlobe and groaning, “I want you.”
Fuck my reservations.
My body is screaming for his skin.
Heat between my legs thrashing.
I pant, “I want you, too,” claw at his shirt, “So bad. I can feel how hard you are,” and press my hips into him, excited by his hot bulge that promises big things.
Wyatt growls, licks my neck, and comes back to claim my lips as I grind against his hungry erection. We moan into each other, so delicious, my senses fogging up.
Suddenly Wyatt tears away.
“What are you doing?” I breathe, fingers sliding down my stomach to seek out the ache between my legs. “Come back.”
From the side, like a wild animal spotting a trap, he watches me. “No.”
Confused, I whisper, “Why not?”
He blinks to the porch floor like he can’t believe what he’s saying.
Someone honks from the street and we look over. “Hey, is this your Jeep?”
It’s a big truck and it can’t get around, parked cars on both sides, and Wyatt’s vehicle idling over the yellow line. “Be right there!” he shouts, rushing to pull me to him so fast I gasp. “Diana, I want to fuck you. Don’t think I don’t. I’ll call you tomorrow.” He kisses me hard, and I start to slip my fingers into his hair, but he grabs my hands, gives them back to me like they’re a gift he can’t accept, and walks away, jumping down the steps and waving to the waiting driver.
Before he disappears into his Jeep, Wyatt locks eyes with me. “Tomorrow!”
I cross my arms, hug myself to ebb the cold his absence left behind. As glowing red taillights fade away I blink down and realize he has my bag.
Again I’m without a key.
And my phone!
Lita answers the door, eyes bleary. “I hear you! God, stop knocking so loud. You’re going to wake up the whole city!”
Dejected, I mutter, “I tried quieter. You didn’t answer.”
She widens the space and watches me trudge in, her voice wary while the deadbolt clicks. “Um…how was the date?”
“Amazing,” I sigh, turning around and throwing up my hands. “He’s wonderful!”
“Diana…”
“I have to go to bed. Goodnight. I’m sorry for waking you.”
She stares after me. “That’s it?”
There’s a knock at our door, and we both stare at it. Raising her voice she asks, “Who is it?”
Wyatt’s voice comes through. “Diana? It’s me! You left your purse.”
My roommate is right next to the door, so she beats me to opening it, leans on it and cocks an eyebrow at him.
He sizes her up. “Lita Scott, how the hell are you?”
“Awesome.”
“Good. Why don’t you do me a favor? Don’t underestimate me again. Work for you?” He hands her my bag as her jaw drops open. Pointing to me he says, “Can’t call you if you don’t have your phone. Night, Beautiful. Tomorrow.”
We watch him go, and she slowly shuts the door. “What was that?”
A smile starts to spread. “I think it was a beginning.”
Chapter 29
Diana
Recliners of differing colors, some more faded than others, face a white wall bare of art because every Friday night it becomes a movie theater thanks to a badass projector I suggested we install.
Wyatt strolls in and sees me helping May to her seat. He breaks into a run and takes over. “Grams!”
She cries out with her sweet southern drawl, sliding her frail arm through his muscular one, “Wyatt honey, I thought you might not make it tonight!”
“Did Diana tell you we were on a chase?”
May looks at me with instant reproach. “No, she did not!”
I explain, “I didn’t want to worry you,” placing her floral cushions on the red recliner.
He guides her onto them as she informs him, “Diana told me you don’t like Christmas movies. That was the excuse she gave for you.”
“I don’t,” Wyatt laughs, “Give me some tissues and let’s get this over with!”
May chuckles before waving hello to Alice as she approaches us with a snail’s pace. “My great-grandson is here again!”
“I see that,” smiles her friend as she chooses the recliner on May’s right.
I leave them to help other residents into chairs suited for comfy movie-watching. Wyatt’s eyes are on me. Nobody has to tell me and I don’t have to look. My instincts are tuned to everything he does.
We’ve been dating for a month and my body is going nuts with pheromone and chemistry overload. He can just look at me and I get hot. Like right now. I am pulsing and there’s nothing I can do about it.
The most stubborn person I’ve ever met is Wyatt Cocker.
He decided to take things slow and here we are spending our Friday night at my Senior Living Facility to watch an old Bing Crosby movie, Holiday Inn, even though it’s almost July.
May has been thrilled with his company. He’s made three of four showings in the last month.
After our first-date debacle I bowed out of one the following night, saying I was busy. He didn’t press it.
But the next week…
“Wait, you shot me down last Friday and now you can’t got out with me on this one, either?”
“I have plans, Wyatt.”
“What kind of plans?
”
“I’m seeing a movie.”
“You have a date?”
“Yes.”
“With who!?”
He sounded furious, which was amazing. And so fun.
“With about forty-five senior citizens. I hope you don’t mind.”
There was a beat of silence, then his laugh nearly made me drop my phone. “Oh! Nice. I get it. You’re working!”
“Yes,” I grinned, explaining with a simple, “Movie night.”
“I’m coming.”
The grin slid into my heart. “Really?”
“What time? Do they have popcorn?”
“Um, no. Some teeth can’t handle kernels anymore so we don’t offer any. It saves us from hurt feelings and potential eating issues. We do have cupcakes, decaf herbal teas, juices, and water, though.”
“Can I bring anything?”
“If you want a beer, bring one.”
He laughed, “No way am I bringing a beer to Grams’ movie night.”
Standing behind the projector to connect correct cords, I glance to where he’s kneeling in front of his great-grandmother, gesturing as he shares a cop-story with her.
She loves these.
I always hear the recount.
As the last person gets settled I call out, “Ready everybody?”
Their applause is as enthusiastic as they ever are. Everyone loves Bing.
I announce, “Without further ado, Holiday Inn!”
Excited whispering spreads throughout the room, and Elmo, one of our oldest residents, raises his hand. I hurry to assist him into his wheelchair, and wheel him to the bathroom. The movie will start without us, and Wyatt throws me a wink as we go.
It’s ten minutes in by the time I get Elmo comfortable again, and hurry over to join the fun. Unlike Wyatt, I love these old movies.
We’re in the recliners to May’s left, with him closest to her.
He reaches over and I place my hand in his, our fingers folding together and his so much bigger than mine. We lock eyes, black and white images illuminating his handsome face.
He tugs me close to whisper in my ear, “Almost thought I wasn’t going to make it.”
“That bad?”
“Not going to tell Grams that, but yeah. One of our own got shot. Came through his windshield when we were in pursuit.”
Cocky Cop: Wyatt Cocker (Cocker Brothers Book 23) Page 14
