Nicholas Cocker (Cocker Brothers Book 16)
NICHOLAS COCKER
COCKER BROTHERS BOOK 16
FALEENA HOPKINS
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Cocker EXTRAS
About the Author
Money can buy you a fine dog, but only love can make him wag his tail.
KINKY FRIEDMAN
CHAPTER 1
M ADISON
Denise aims a purple fingernail directly at my nose. “You don’t have to work tomorrow!”
“I don’t.”
“The day after?”
“Yes.”
“Then you’ve got a full day to sleep it off.” She grabs my hand as I make a break for it. “Where do you think you’re going? We are dancing tonight!”
“Denise!”
“No no no, you aren’t disappearing into your itty-bitty cave this time, Madison Greeley-Smith, you are staying by my side until I say the party is over, you got me?”
“Fine.”
If we hadn’t met when we were tiny and non-judgmental, in pre-school, there is no way we would be friends. That would have been a tragedy for both of us. We’ve been through the good, the bad, and the uglies of life together.
I’m her rock and she’s my wind.
But if we met now, this Denise wouldn’t even have seen me, that’s how much I blend into the walls. And she’s way too gregarious and scary for me to have ventured an optimistic, ‘Hey, wanna play?’
But when we were little Deenies and Maddies, a magical and undefinable something brought us together.
On a whim I gave her my cookie one day. Surprised, she took it and stayed with me while she ate it. The next day she walked hers over to me, and I ate it while she told me about her sister. I listened and told her I didn’t have a sister. She said she’d be mine if I wanted one.
We did that for an entire school-year, every other day eating two cookies, the other having none, happy our friend was enjoying double because we knew how cool that felt…and what a sacrifice it was. Cookies were, are, and always will be, national treasures.
When Mike Coleman pushed me in the second grade and I skinned my knees to a bloody pulp, Denise beat him up and was sent home for the day. I snuck out of school, ran to her house a whole five blocks away. That’s a long way to travel for an insecure seven-year-old, but I’d go much farther if she ever needed me to console her again.
We’ve got each other’s backs.
No matter what.
Which is why I wish she’d let me go home!
I hate parties.
Especially Billy’s.
There’s a man who comes to every single one of these ragers and he is so gorgeous, it literally hurts to see him.
Every single time, he’s in the arms of some beautiful woman, gnawing on her like a man who knows how. The females are never the same, and sometimes there are two a night!
I think ‘girlfriend’ is a word he cannot comprehend even exists. I’ve thought of bringing a dictionary and showing him that it does exist, and he doesn’t have to be such a slut.
I’d paste my picture onto the page, pointing at it with innocence in hopes that he’d get the hint.
Nicholas Cocker.
Fuck, how I adore you.
Gah. Groan. Moan. Cry. Sob.
The first time I saw that six-foot-two-inch god I choked on my own tongue. My heart did the hokey-pokey. And my feet wanted to run. Toward him.
Frozen, I gaped at his smile, the light in his caramel-brown eyes, mesmerizing. But he looked right through me. I’ve seen him at least a dozen times now and it’s like he cannot see me. Sure I blend. But with him I wish I wouldn’t.
My blood hardens every time he backs some other woman against a wall to make out with her in front of everyone. Even his future wife…me.
Snort.
As if.
Sardines would call this house party too crowded as we cut through shoulder-to-shoulder socialites on our way to the overly popular counter where Billy Cooper keeps the booze.
All of the normal furniture was removed a couple of years back after Billy’s parents took a hike to sunny Florida where they could watch seagulls pooping on copper bodies.
Billy started as a club promoter here in Atlanta and was so incredibly gifted at gathering cool people in one hot place that he quit working for bosses who kept the majority of the cash, and grew a business of socializing strictly for his own profit and entertainment.
They say if you make money doing what you love you’ll never work a day in your life.
Billy’s perpetual smile is an indication that they are wise.
He charges a pretty steep cover to keep liquor flowing and music jamming at a beat that moves your body. And people gladly pay what he deserves for taking them out of the doldrums for blessedly amusing hours.
Satisfied, my best friend is currently bouncing to the tunes but her fingers are in a vice around mine.
Billy spots her, his spiky hair standing even higher as he shouts, “Denise, try my meatballs!”
“Honey, you’ve been wanting me to eat your meat for years!”
“One of these days you will!”
“You wish!” As we pass him, she whispers to me under the music, “That boy is adorable!”
His parties really are bare-bones, but that’s part of the charm. It can get dirty—you can spill stuff, stand on chairs, paint on walls, anything goes. A few sofas are thrown here and there, but no tables. One couch in the living room is so stained it’s a wonder people are laughing on it right now!
Just the right amount of nasty.
There’s never a paid bartender—it’s a fend-for-yourself situation. And because everyone wants to drink, that spells mosh-pit rather than organized lines at the bar. As we stand among a mass of unsatisfied thirst, Denise’s eyes light up at something behind me.
“Look at them!”
I turn around and my lips part.
There he is.
The ridiculously popular man of my dreams has a lucky brunette pinned to a wall. The way Nicholas Cocker kisses isn’t like anyone else. You don’t have to be the recipient of his attention to know that he is skilled. Screw the cover fee for alcohol. Billy should charge a ticket for this show.
Nicholas is dressed in a stylish button-up, the sleeves rolled to mid-perfect-forearm since it’s so warm in here. Although I think the heat is all from him.
His jeans should be hung in the High Museum of Art. Yes, the people who named it didn’t know it would make the house of culture sound stoned. But his ass should be on display there because I am buzzed
just by the sight.
How his hands move over that lucky woman’s body inspires an involuntary shiver of I-wish-that-were-me.
And my heart sinks to a depth unsustainable. This is why I avoid these parties, though I won’t tell Denise, that man is my downfall. For some reason I believe that if I don’t say it aloud, maybe one day this crazy instinct that we’re supposed to be together, will finally disappear. I used to believe in it, but after seeing his tongue shoved in so many mouths…kinda hard to dream.
As gorgeous as Nicholas is, and as much as his smile seems genuine, his friendship with Matthew real and good, I do not believe he knows how to love. He wants this superficial bang-em-and-leave-em game, and to me it’s empty. To him it’s life.
I may not look like someone who walked off a magazine cover, but I could make him laugh if he’d let me.
What would it be like to be kissed by him? Molded by his fingers? Grinded against like some prize-winning salsa dancer is showing me his moves? Nicholas kisses with such fluidity, she’s practically cumming in front of everyone.
Sigh.
Motherfucking sigh sigh sigh.
Madison.
Come on.
Don’t do this to yourself.
I drop my proud gaze to the floor.
“Maddie?” Denise gently says.
“Huh?” I look over, quickly hiding my discouragement. “What?”
“You look like someone broke your heart.”
CHAPTER 2
M ADISON
I shrug, “Just need a drink. Tired of this line, if you can call it that. Do something, would ya?”
Waving those purple fingernails Denise starts shouting, “Come on, move! Lady with a baby! And that baby needs a drink!”
People laugh like she’s kidding.
Pointing to her belly she cocks a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “You think this is fat? I’m five months in!”
Horrified, they give her room as I maintain total poker-face.
“This is more like it!” Denise grumbles as she picks up the pretty blue bottle of Bombay Sapphire gin. “They think that’s sad? The real tragedy is that if I were preggers it’d have to be immaculate conception. I haven’t had a man in me in a year.”
I hand over two red cups, glancing back to Nicholas. “Ditto.”
She grabs the ice bucket. “By choice!”
“Mine is by their choice.”
“I hate plastic cups. I’m not in college anymore! Oh well, hold these. They won’t stay up.”
“No, I can’t drink gin. It makes me do stupid things.”
Denise laughs, “Honey, your favorite word is no!”
“No.”
“Do I have to spill this on your head?”
“No.”
“Very funny.” She plants the cups in my hands and starts shoveling ice. “This is one of the things I love about Billy. He knows the first thing you run out of at a party is ice, but never at his! The man has a plan. Cuts the corners of what doesn’t matter and ensures we have what does. Except I wouldn’t mind wrapping my manicure around some actual glassware.”
“Probably afraid people will break it and get cut, bleed everywhere.”
She pauses. “Ew.” Then goes back to pouring gin.
“Denise!”
“This one’s mine,” she reassures me, and pours into the other cup—mine.
“Denise!”
“Whoopsie!”
“You said—”
“—I said that one’s mine. And it is. It’s just as full as yours is. Do I lie? No, I do not lie! Tonic or soda?”
“Tonic is bad for you.”
“Soda then.” She splashes Pellegrino water into the tiny space left in our cups. Some chick with a stick up her ass penguins closer, staring at Denise.
“What do you want?” I ask Stick-up-butt.
Denise smiles, “Are you wondering when I’m due?” Squeezing a lemon in her gin, she announces, “Four months. Cheers!”
“To little junior coming out okay despite this!” I tap my cup to hers and we drink.
Shocked and appalled, Stick-up-butt penguins away to gossip about us.
Denise smirks, “That girl needs to get laid even more than you do.”
I nod, wincing at the strong taste, “Oh God, give me a lemon. That was harsh.”
“I appreciate you taking one for the team, sucking that down sans fruit. I thought about grabbing one for you but there was no time.”
I dryly mutter, “It was worth it,” squeezing a fresh, juicy wedge and dropping it in.
With pursed, full lips, Denise cocks her pretty head. “Can I just?” Impatient fingernails rummage through my hair until she’s gifted it a deep side-part. “That’s better, sexier.” Taking a big sip, she glances around. “Now who can we hook you up with tonight?” She spots the host walking by and shouts, “Billy, baby, come back to me!”
Shocked, I whisper in her ear under the loud music, “You’re not hooking me up with Billy!”
“Hell no. He’s mine, if I ever decide to go there.”
With a grin he negotiates his way over to us. “Denise!” Taking her glass, Billy sips it. “Strong, that’s my girl! Did you try my meatballs yet?”
“I might…if you bought me a sparkly for right here.” She points to above her knuckle, left hand, on the finger conspicuously next to the pinky. “Until that day comes, stop talking about your damn meat!”
His cute face lights up on a huge laugh. As an afterthought he glances to me like he forgot I was here. “You having fun, Addison?”
“Madison.”
“Oh, right, sorry!”
“I’m having a great time, thank you.”
He returns to Denise, his friendly smile flashing the instant they lock eyes. “Well, I’ve gotta float around or people will think I don’t love them anymore. Looking good, Denise.”
She wriggles her ring-finger. “Now don’t forget!”
Billy laughs, goes to leave, but pauses to ask, “What’s this rumor about you being pregnant? That true?”
She doesn’t even bat an eyelash extension. “No, honey. Don’t worry. I’m all yours. That rumor must be coming from our future.”
On a grin he vanishes into the party.
She and I walk into the kitchen where she bogarts an entire bowl of potato chips. “These greasy fuckers need to be in my mouth!” She offers the bowl to me and I take a handful. “Looks like someone is consummating a six-minute courtship. Madison, look.”
I glance over my shoulder to watch Nicholas Cocker guiding that brunette to the guest bathroom. Under my breath I sigh, “She’s practically dancing her way there.”
“Wouldn’t you be?”
Staring at his ass I snort, “No way, are you kidding?” Shoving a chip in my mouth I lock eyes with Denise. “I wouldn’t!” Her eyebrows twitch, but I maintain, “Seriously, I wouldn’t want a guy like him.”
“Tall, dark, handsome, and kisses like he’d make you forget your own name?”
I shake my head a little, eyes flitting to where they disappeared. “He is way too in demand. Other women would be forever chasing him. I wouldn’t hold his attention.” Shrugging a shoulder I crunch my inadequacies away.
My chin is grabbed. Denise gets in my face, voice gentler than these insistent fingers. “You are you. The second you start owning who you are, is the second you’ll begin a happy life.” She snatches a chip from my hand. “Stop hiding under all that drab clothing and own your shit, woman!”
“Says the most confident person I’ve ever known,” I mutter, piling more chips in my hand from the bowl. “Is there onion dip?”
“Spinach only.” She holds up mangled green goo that looks oddly delicious. “Pray nobody with the plague double dipped. And don’t give me that crap, Madison Greeley-Smith, because I don’t want to hear your excuses.”
My chip breaks under the weight of my scoop. “I’m saying that you were born with the ability to walk into any room and feel comfortable. I’m not like that.
I’m worried about what everyone is thinking, and I feel like I’m on the outside. I’m an introvert.”
Sipping gin and soda, Denise thinks about it a moment. She locks onto me like she figured out the answer, eyes lighting up so that she shines brighter than those light bulbs. “If you didn’t care what anybody thought—like if none of that mattered or you were out on some deserted island or something—then you would be free to be just you, right? Imagine if nobody else was here—ever—how would you feel?”
“Great. That sounds like heaven, actually.”
“That’s how you do it! You forget about them and be you as if no one else was here! Because the truth is, nobody’s opinion really matters more than yours, Maddie. Take for example the coolest people you’ve ever known.”
“Like you.”
She ignores me. “They are cool because they don’t care what anyone else thinks. They’re rocking to their own beat. That’s why we watch them! That’s what makes someone interesting, right? When they walk around just owning it, not giving a shit.” She turns in a circle, strutting. “That’s what I do! Madison, that’s the secret. You gotta be you, and what I love about you is your strong opinions. Your undying loyalty. You’re so damn generous with your time, your heart, your help. I know I can always count on you. And you make me laugh more than anyone I know! Your humor is so dry, so you. Think about it this way: someday you will be lying in a coffin and I guarantee you, those people you were so worried about, will not be there. Who the fuck cares about them? Care about you, and the people you love.” Snatching the last chip from my hands she wags it. “Shine, baby shine! Forget about impressing anyone but yourself.”
I stare at her as she pops my last potato chip into her mouth.
I am unable to argue.
I need time to think.
I don’t want to wake up in a coffin one day and wish I’d lived a brave life.
“I’ve gotta pee.”
She waves me off, “Do your business.”
I head for the guest bathroom, freeze, look at her, and change course.
She busts up laughing, her voice flying over strangers’ heads. “See! You’re funny!”
CHAPTER 3