Cocky Cowboy: A Second Chance Romance (Cocker Brothers of Atlanta Book 3) Read online

  She watches as I lay the bacon side by side in the skillet, crackling oil shooting up. “Tell me what happened after I moved away from Atlanta.”

  While the eggs wait until the last second to be cooked, I grab a serrated knife to slice the fresh bread and tell her the story of my childhood. I’m not a talkative man usually, my brothers would tell anyone that.

  I don’t think Rachel would agree. We used to talk all the time about Dickens, Shakespeare and Tolkien, the books most kids our age thought were too ‘hard’ to read.

  It doesn’t feel like a chore as I tell her, “Jett and I caused a lot of hell all the way until after we graduated. Oh, you probably remember him as Jerald. He’s Jett now. The two of us paved the way for Justin and Jason to have caution-tape strapped to their heads before they even made it to high school. Remember them?” I glance to her and raise my eyebrows. She nods. “Well, Justin became Class President despite the faculty campaigning to have him taken off the ballots after he’d slept with one of the teachers.” Off her reaction, I grin. “Don’t worry. It wasn’t the teacher’s fault. He went after her without mercy. Poor girl was interning from college and she was a beauty. He was almost eighteen. She was twenty. Justin’s defense was, if she’s going to teach looking like that she’d better resort to first grade where the boys wouldn’t notice. The school kept it under wraps only to save our reputation.”

  “You mean their reputation?”

  “No. Ours. My dad’s position has power.”

  “Oh,” she whispers, shaking her head. “Wow.”

  I hand her a medium-sized piece of bread to taste and she takes a bite. “Good huh?”

  “That’s amazing,” she gushes, popping the rest in her mouth. “Name one of the things you and Jerald – sorry, Jett – did that was so awful.”

  With a spark in my eyes I don’t miss a beat. “We turned on the sprinklers at five of the dances. With enough time between – years sometimes – that no one ever saw it coming.”

  “You didn’t!”

  Chuckling, I nod, deciding to keep the less attractive and funny adventures to myself. “Oh yeah! We sure did. All those dresses soaked to their bodies? Good stuff.”

  Rachel laughs, “What about—”

  Reading her mind, I finish her sentence, “—Jason? Well, when they were kids it was mostly Justin who was the bad influence and Jason followed. When he grew up, that fucking guy developed a bad habit of falling in love with the wrong woman. Someone stuck too big a heart in him. We have to bail him out of bat-shit crazy situations too often. The most recent was a model with a coke addiction.”

  “Oh no,” Rachel murmurs, watching me work. “I lost a couple of good friends to cocaine in my early twenties.”

  “Yeah. We almost lost Jason but it turns out he’s addicted to women, not drugs.” Remembering the Bernie-drama, I shake my head and mutter, “Which are sometimes more dangerous than drugs. Hand me that spatula? Thanks. Do you remember Jake?” Rachel stretches and shakes her head. My eyes flicker to her belly and I focus back on scrambling the eggs. “You were probably too young to remember since he was only four or something. Were you ever in our house, other than when your parents came for dinner?”

  “One of the nights you threw pebbles on my window you brought me back to your home when everyone was sleeping,” Rachel smiles.

  “Oh yeah!” A smile flashes over me at the memory of us tiptoeing upstairs. I pretended I was gonna knock on each door I went by which made Rachel cringe every time. Meeting her eyes for a moment, the years disappear. “I should have kissed you then.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “We were eight.”

  “Nine was better?”

  Hot oil spatters from the bacon skillet onto my arm and I turn the burner off, locking eyes with her right afterward. “I think our first kiss was perfect…and worth the wait.” Rachel slowly nods her agreement. I go to touch her hand and pull back before contact, shaking my head and switching off the egg’s burner next. “Jett and I were both in basketball and football in school.” Glancing to see if she’s impressed, I’m satisfied she is, so I continue, “Jett went into boxing. He went semi-pro but gave it up when he found The Ciphers.”

  “So he’s in a gang.”

  “A motorcycle club. But I guess they do tear it up pretty good.” Quietly chuckling to myself over some of the shit my brother has pulled with The Ciphers I spin around to get plates. When I turn back I catch her checking out my ass, and hold her look to let her know I saw. On a deep smirk, I tell her, “I put on a shirt to make it easy for you, Rach, but I can’t help how well these jeans fit me.”

  Shaking her head she smiles. “Lord, you’ve got an ego on you.”

  “I just don’t want to confuse you with these.” Flexing my pecs under the cotton, I stretch my wide chest out more so she can enjoy the show. She starts laughing and my smirk shifts to a genuine smile.

  That’s all I wanted - to relax her shoulders some more and wipe that frown from her eyes. Behind her smiles I keep seeing pain. I can’t take it.

  The plates get piled high. I even add wild blackberries as I go on, “I was offered a scholarship to play college and I went, but I was far more interested in organic farming and horticulture as a whole. The lifestyle suited me more than parties and concussions.”

  “Less women throwing themselves at you, too,” Rachel says, with a hint of curiosity.

  Pouring coffee, I don’t answer that. Hell, I’m considering whether or not I want to. But I’m not the type who hides shit or defends my actions, so when I bring the cups to the island I lock eyes with her and wait a beat.

  “I’ve had more than my share, Rachel. I’m no angel but I’ve tried to do right by them.” Cora’s face flashes to my mind. The look in her eyes when I called her Rachel. I was using her. “Most times, anyway,” I mutter. “Grab these?”

  She nods and takes the cups while I carry everything else out to my porch. There’s a nice, dark walnut table there I found at an antique store.

  New, forest green patio furniture is on the other side of the front door.

  On days when it’s not too hot, I like to be outside as much as possible, listening to the cicadas and watching my animals graze.

  “I didn’t realize how hungry I was,” Rachel whispers, after we’ve eaten in silence a while.

  “When did you eat last?”

  “Don’t remember,” she admits, long eyelashes rising slowly to take in the view. “It’s so beautiful here, Jaxson. I feel almost calm now.”

  “You look more relaxed. Still a little nervous, though.”

  She laughs and makes a face. “You’re too honest.”

  “No such thing as too honest.”

  “Mmm,” she whispers, glancing back to her food.

  “You haven’t touched your coffee.”

  She looks at me with meaning.

  “Oh, shit,” I mutter. “Sorry. I’m an idiot.”

  “It’s okay. I like to smell it.”

  The sound of a vehicle approaching catches my ear. While I shovel eggs onto Patty’s bread, I watch the place where the car will soon come into view. Seconds later an S.U.V. kicks dust up as it parks.

  My blood starts pumping.

  Her boyfriend may have found her.

  “This him?”

  Rachel’s staring, too. “No,” she quietly says.

  As the dust settles, we can see behind the windshield and an older man gets out and hobbles over with a cane like he just walked off the pages of an Ernest Hemingway novel.

  I walk out to greet him, brushing my hands on my jeans.

  “Jaxson Cocker?” he asks in a thick and slow Georgian accent.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Cora Williamson told me you’re looking to sell some of this beautiful land.” He sweeps his cane through the air behind him.

  My blood grows edges as I narrow my eyes, hooking my thumbs in my belt loops. “She told you wrong. I made it clear I’m not selling.”

  �
�Oh now, don’t get your hackles raised,” he chuckles. “I don’t want all of it. Just about a hundred acres or so. I can pay good money, son!”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Leroy Jarvis at your service.”

  My eyebrows rise, but I shake his outstretched hand, the cane falling from where he’d perched it on his leg. I get to it first.

  “Oh, thank you. Darndest thing. Can’t avoid it, though.”

  Not that I have any intention of selling my property, but he’s an interesting character and I’m curious. “What do you want my land for?”

  “Well my wife has it in her head that a women’s center would be beneficial to the community.”

  I was expecting the words ‘condominium’ or ‘shopping mall.’ My tension ebbs away. “Well, Mr. Jarvis, I appreciate the idea.”

  He cocks an eye at me, leaning forward. “So you’re not opposed to it?”

  “I’m not for it, either. There aren’t enough people up here to warrant that, for one thing. And I like things the way they are. But I’m glad to have met you. It’ll have to happen someplace else.”

  Sensing my finality, he glances to Rachel who’s walked up to stand in the porch’s doorframe behind me. I look over my shoulder, hold her gaze a moment and realize off her look that she heard Cora’s name.

  “I understand. Let me give you my card,” the old man says. “We don’t have any children, you see, me and Liana. Now that we’re retired, there isn’t much to do. She’s not the type to sit on her behind all day long. Not my Liana.” He winks and hands me a business card, throwing a smiling, polite nod to Rachel. As he hobbles away, he calls out, “It would mean the world to us!”

  She and I watch until he’s out of sight, then I cast my eyes down and wait for it.

  Don’t have to wait long.

  “Cora Williamson? Now, that’s a surprise.”

  Squinting away the sun, I hold Rachel’s beautiful blue eyes. “I’m not going to deny it.”

  “When did that start? When I left?”

  Can’t help but snort, “Yeah. Right after. That’s me. Ten year old playboy.”

  Rachel smiles, but her eyes are betraying how she really feels about me with one of her childhood friends.

  “When then?”

  “About a year ago when she finally broke me down. Lasted a long time.”

  “How long?”

  “Two months. Not exclusive. Serious stuff.”

  An amused grin slowly spreads on her soft pink lips, clearing away the cloud of discomfort and jealousy. Can’t say I’m not pleased she cares, though.

  Staring off at my land, Rachel says, “Two months. Wow. Guess you bought a ring and everything.”

  “Yep. A cock ring.”

  “Jaxson!” she cries out, laughing through it.

  Chuckling, I walk back to her thinking how much I want to touch her, but that’s not a good idea since she just got here and there are too many questions that need answering before sex fogs our minds again.

  From those three steps taller, she loses the smile as we gaze at each other, now almost the same height. I get mesmerized by how the sun is lighting up her skin, her bright blue eyes slightly hooded as the chemistry crackles between our bodies. Before I know what I’m doing, I rasp, “Rachel, I’ve never asked anyone to marry me, but you.”

  Her eyelashes float closed and she takes a long, quiet breath.

  This is the moment I could take her hand and pull her down into my embrace.

  But I don’t.

  It doesn’t feel right to do anything other than be her friend until we have answers, until I know I won’t get my dick kicked in again when she leaves.

  She might be having another man’s baby.

  If it’s his, I won’t fault her for wanting to see if they can work things out.

  The child deserves it.

  But fuck if I’m not beginning to pray it’s mine.

  Rachel

  Coming out of the bathroom from yet another losing of my meal, I wipe tears from my eyes and glance over to find Jaxson lying on the couch with a fresh hardback perched on his knee, the other leg over the side, his bare foot resting on the throw rug.

  I’ve been here five days and he’s been wonderful. He jokes when I get too serious, and says nothing when I need to think.

  We’ve made meals together and told some of our stories, keeping away from the subject of Ryan.

  He knows all about Sylvia now, and how it took me some time to find a good girlfriend I really connected with after I finished college at NYU, when so many of my friends moved back to the states they were raised in.

  He confided to me that Jett is still his best friend, even though he’s rarely in Georgia anymore. How Jett stayed with him for Jake’s wedding and they stayed up late drinking beers, cooking dinners, and just being men together. “I love all my brothers though, as if they were my kids more than my equals. Dad says I was born a man.”

  I smiled and said I would have to agree. “Maybe that’s why you rebelled against the teachers. You didn’t like being treated like a child.”

  He smiled at that.

  And then there’s the farm labor. Helping him collect eggs to sell to the local grocer as well as milking the cows every morning, has had a very soothing effect on my nerves.

  The vomiting fights to remind me what’s really happening, though, and then my world comes crashing in again as reality hits.

  The silences with Jaxson are not edgy like they often are with Ryan. Jaxson rarely knows where his phone is much less being always on it, and hardly anyone calls.

  Ryan is always checking his cell, obsessed with winning and staying ahead.

  Ahead of what, exactly?

  With Jaxson, there is no competition, like the world is spinning outside and he’s simply observing, disinterested in engaging in their game.

  It bores him, and the farm thrills him.

  Petting his horses Harry and Hermione in the grey light of dusk two nights ago I asked, “Why didn’t you name them Harry and Jenny?”

  As he stroked the stallion’s muscular neck and I pet the mare’s, Jaxson explained, “Harry Potter should have ended up with Hermione, not Ron. Hermione was a muggle. Harry was raised by them and could understand her better. Ron was a good enough guy, but he’s not Harry. Isn’t that right, Harry?” The horse glanced back to Jaxson. “See? He agrees.”

  I laughed, “He recognized his name, that’s all.” I went back to petting Hermione, finding comfort in how she bent her neck to add pressure to the caresses. She loved being petted.

  Jaxson said, “Nah, it’s more than that,” his smile drifting away as he laced thick fingers into the stallion’s mane. “Are you bored, Rachel?”

  Taken slightly aback, I whispered, “No. Not bored at all.” I locked eyes with him and reached to adjust his cowboy hat. “There. Now I can see your face better.”

  “Maybe I want to be mysterious,” he smirked, looking so damn handsome.

  On a small smile I confessed, “Jaxson, you don’t need a hat for that. You were born mysterious.”

  He searched me. “No, just quiet is all. Simple man. What you see is what you get.” The thoughtfulness in his tone implied he wondered if I liked that about him. I couldn’t express how much, and so I just explained why I believed what I said.

  “I’ve come to you for something and you’ve given it to me without even asking what it is.”

  “What’s to ask? I already knew what you needed.”

  As my heart pounded, I stammered, “Why come here? That would be one question.”

  Without warning, he pulled me to him as his green eyes held mine with unwavering steadiness. His voice was thick with needing me to understand him. “Rachel, this is my home because of the peace it gives me. When you stayed over that first night, you had a glimpse of it. I know you came here for that, but I also know you came to see if there was anything between us that could last.”

  I held my breath, quieted by the truth of this.
>
  He released me with a look that said if he didn’t, he’d carry me upstairs. “Are you hungry?”

  I nodded and watched him head for the house, following with goosebumps down my arms.

  All day yesterday he kept his distance. Today has been the same.

  He hears me return and glances over his shoulder. “Ginger ale didn’t help?” he asks, deep and calm.

  “I’m afraid not,” I murmur and walk to the window to watch Harry and Hermione grazing in the waning light of evening. Minutes lazily pass until the horses decide to move on. I watch them gracefully vanish from my line of vision before I ask him, “What are you reading?”

  “Power of Now.”

  “Hard not to think about the future.”

  “Always is.”

  “Especially under these circumstances.”

  I hear the book close and turn to watch him rise and come to me. I’m silenced by the look in his eyes, the platonic friend is gone. He’s advancing on me like he did that first time I was here. I’ve been waiting for that look, and dreading it, too.

  What if this baby is Ryan’s? What will I do?

  Everything I’ve built is in New York City.

  So why am I feeling like I never want to leave this ranch?

  I know the reason. It’s staring at me from behind emerald green eyes I want to stay lost in.

  But am I just seeking solace?

  Is this just an escape?

  “Rachel…” He leans down, surprising me by brushing his lips ever so softly against mine. It feels so good I want him to do it again. “I’ve gotta make that frown go away for good.”

  With my lips tingling, I shake my head. “You’ve been perfect, Jaxson. There’s nothing more you can do.”

  On a deep rasp, he asks, “Nothing?”

  “Oh my God,” I whisper as he pulls me to him.

  Rachel

  “It’s been so hard not to touch you.”

  “For me too,” I breathe, loving the strength of his arms around me again.

  I’ve been feeling so weak.

  I need this.

  I need him to carry me. I’m filled with shame over that, but God help me, I need his strength now. Being here with Jaxson makes everything seem like it’s going to be all right no matter what happens. I wish I had that feeling in myself but I just don’t.