Cocky Secrets (Cocker Brothers #29)

74. Margaret

SEVENTY-FOUR

Margaret

F lo taps on my shoulder as I watch him stalk off with his shoulders tense and fists clenched. “Who was that, Margaret?”

Glancing over to her in a daze I whisper, “What?”

“That biker fella. He seemed real interested in you.”

“We just met,” I tell her, eyes clouded. What does that even mean, he searched for me?? Did he have some vision of me or something? I’ve never heard of such a dreamy thing coming from a man’s lips before. Especially not a gruff beast like that one.

“I’d snag him…for a night,” she smiles with a wink.

Mildly shocked I laugh, “Flo!”

“I’m just saying, Margaret, if I were any younger I’d run after him myself. Look at these guys.” She waves a wrinkled hand around the festival where crowds of people shop at booths overflowing with crafts, baked treats, and toys. “A lot of pussies. Enough with the khaki slacks. But that man! Mmm Mmm Mmm!” She walks away with a saucy smile thrown over her shoulder. “But I always did have a thing for bikers. And sailors.”

My feet start the journey back to the hotel desk and when I see Carla I thank her for taking over for me, but I don’t need the rest of the day off after all. She chats with me a moment about what’s going on with her children in college.

Nodding at random intervals, I’m not listening in the slightest. Not because I don’t care. I do, I care very much about other people. It’s just this last twenty-four hours has done a number on my nerves and I feel a bit shaky. Like I might need to hide behind a box of dark chocolate and whipped cream for two weeks. Or at least an hour.

But my parents always said this motivational slogan: When I got busy I got better. Sitting on a couch won’t do anything but meld me to it. I need to get some work done. Talk to other human beings. Be a functioning part of society.

“And then he went and flipped them off! Can you believe that?” Carla asks with a look that begs for empathy.

“I’m sorry. You lost me,” I blink.

“My son gave his boss the bird!”

“Oh! No, I heard you. I just couldn’t believe Austin would do something like that! That’s why I said you lost me.”

She relaxes, gratified I didn’t find her story boring. “I couldn’t believe it either! He’s always been my brightest achievement among my children. And now? He got fired, and he’s coming back to live at home.”

Frowning, I pick up the log list of guests. “Carla, what’s this?”

She leans over to look at it. “Oh, that’s our new guest for tomorrow. It was a phone reservation.”

In my shrinking corset I cough, “When?”

“Some guy named Jett Cocker called while you were gallivanting about. Deep voice, too. He sounded sexy. Paid for the whole thing.” She eyes me with unmasked curiosity. “Why do you look so nervous?”

My breath is coming shorter as I push a ringlet back from my cheek. The name staring back at me is Honey Badger Martinez. And what room did his friend book? The Bridal Suite.

“Do I look nervous? I’m fine. Just fine. Not nervous at all,” I stammer before heading toward the bar and calling behind me, “Watch the desk for one more minute?”

Carla trails off with a confused, “Okay…”

Flo is cackling with a couple of regulars who could have been born on those barstools. The restaurant’s chatter behind me is a dull hum of noise as I make a beeline for where the servers pick up cocktails; a small section of the bar with a rubber mat and fresh drink-condiments in a tray – bright limes, soggy cherries, and slender lemon twists.

Flo sees my face and heads over. “What is it, sweetie?”

“Can I have a shot of bourbon?”

Dyed-brown eyebrows launch up before she asks, “You drink bourbon?”

“No, but I can start.”

Cocking her head, she wags a sharp fingertip at me. “I’ve got what you need.”

The content of various bottles get dumped upside down into a shaker, some ice shoved on top. She jams the lid on. With both hands Flo rattles her concoction up and down with a proud, knowing smirk on her too-red lips. As she pours its contents into a small glass, ice crystals gather on top. It’s snowing out so an ice-cold beverage is a strange choice except for one thing – with the heat pumping through my legs, this is perfect! How did she know what I needed?

“What is it?”

“A little go-after-him juice,” she smiles, leans in, and whispers, “Honey, I can read people as if their faces were an audio book. It’s why I still have a job. Drink up.”

I lift the glass, but she stops me, motioning for it all to go down. No sipping allowed.

Here goes nothing.

Tipping my head back I drink the chilly, fruity liquid without even wincing. It’s absolutely delicious, but there is definitely a ton of booze in it because my tummy is surprised at the foreign substance, and is thanking me.

“Well?”

“Flo, it’s wonderful.”

She grins and takes the glass, “Now don’t come asking me for more. I won’t be the one to set you on a dangerous path!”