Cocky Cowboy: A Second Chance Romance (Cocker Brothers of Atlanta Book 3) Read Online Free PDF Page A

night. We’ll leave together and have some time to cool down and they’ll never know!”
    He stares at the bag for a minute, thinking on it. Shaking his head once, he mutters, “No, Rachel. I’ll take Lyft to the airport. You stay here and think about what you want.”
    “What I want?!”
    “Yes.” His voice is as cold as a New York winter, which is fucking cold, let me tell you. “You know what I want, for things to be as they have been until we’re both ready for more. Decide if that works for you.”
    I can’t even speak. I just stand here like an idiot while he pulls out his phone to book the ride.
    On his way out he locks icy eyes on me. “Stop trying to box me in.”
    My jaw drops. He storms out checking the fucking Lyft app on his phone.
    As I watch him go I can’t help but wonder if there’s someone else.

Jaxson
    A ll during dinner I ruminated over what I wanted to do about Rachel. I could have gone back up to my ranch by now but I’ve hung around Atlanta, which makes me uneasy. I usually know exactly what to do. Never been this on edge before, especially not about a woman.
    Mom and Dad were happy to have me over and we talked easily about what they’ve been up to here, how the basement was flooded and all the chaos that ensued. I told them one of my chickens died last week, which made Mom sigh and lose her smile. Had to change the subject to Jake saying Drew needed a nap after the honeymoon.
    Dad laughed under his breath and Mom rolled her eyes. “I don’t need to know that stuff!”
    The subject of my short-lived jail sentence was only mentioned once, and by my father with his sternest voice. “I trust this won’t happen again soon?”
    I nodded, but had to stifle a smile, because who the hell knows, really?
    After he went to his office in another wing of the house where I knew he’d quietly write his nightly list of tomorrow’s goals and people he needs to contact, I stay downstairs and help Mom clean up.
    Just when I think I’m going to drop the whole thing and head out for the hour-long drive I hear myself ask, “You remember the Sawyers?”
    Pouring herself a third glass of Pinot Grigio Mom frowns, “The Sawyers?”
    I lean against a spotless kitchen counter to coax her memory. “They lived two doors down from us when I was at Trinity. You had them over for dinner sometimes.”
    Her pretty face flickers with recognition. “You mean John and Ellen? I haven’t seen them in years, Jaxson. Ellen and I were only acquaintances. She fought me at every turn at the Atlanta Woman’s Club.” Placing the cork back inside the bottle, she stares off. “God, I’ll never forget. You were too young to be aware of it, but those times we had them over for dinner were stiff affairs. Done only to keep the peace.” Rolling her eyes to herself, she mutters, “Not that it helped. That woman had it in for me.” Mom’s volume rises as she returns to the present and looks at me. "I was relieved when out of the blue their family moved to New York. John got a job or something – I can’t remember exactly. We lost touch, thank God. Why?”
    “Can you check with the club to see if she’s back?”
    Intuitive brown eyes carefully inspect me before she turns to put the wine bottle back in the fridge. As she walks to it, she says over her shoulder, “I could. But you have to tell me why.”
    Staring out at the backyard I grew up playing in, I see little Rachel running screaming around the dolphin fountain, with nine-year-old me and seven-year-old Jett, inside it splashing her like crazy.
    Smiling to myself as the image fades and the fountain resumes it’s aged appearance of today, I mutter, “I’m curious.”
    On a knowing laugh, Mom crosses the kitchen back to me. “Would this have anything to do with their daughter? The one you got into trouble all the time?”
    I can tell she doesn’t remember. “Rachel,” I remind her.
    “I’ll take that as a yes.” Mom smiles with a twinkle in her eyes.