Cocky Delight: A Hero Club Novel Read online

  Copyright © 2020 by Maria Macdonald and Cocky Hero Club, Inc.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the authors’ imaginations. Any resemblance to actual persons, things, living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

  Editor: Karen J

  Cover Design: Francessca Wingfield

  Formatting: Leanne Clugston Irish Ink Publishing

  Cocky Delight is a standalone story inspired by Vi Keeland and Penelope Ward’s Cocky Bastard. It's published as part of the Cocky Hero Club world, a series of original works, written by various authors, and inspired by Keeland and Ward's New York Times bestselling series.

  Contents

  Blurb

  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

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  For everyone whose cat is an asshole.

  Blurb

  Nola Lewis needs to find a job, lose her boyfriend and train her cat, and not necessarily in that order.

  Nola

  My life is a complete mess. I have a sister who’s threatening to sue me, my boyfriend’s a douche who I should have dumped years ago. My neighbor’s goat is a freak and my cat is really Satan in a fur coat.

  On top of all that I also desperately need a job.

  When my best friend’s husband offers me a position in his company, I snap it up. What I don’t expect is to be working with the rude – and unfortunately completely gorgeous - man who sat laughing at me through a coffee shop window.

  While I tried to pull my heel from a grate in the sidewalk, as it poured with rain.

  I flipped him the bird while I stood glaring, but that didn’t keep him away.

  Kato Black is not what I need right now, but I’m not sure my body agrees with me.

  Dirty whore.

  Chapter One

  NOLA

  A sharp pain in my cheek wakes me from a dream where Tom Hardy and Chris Hemsworth were fighting over me. I told them I was happy to share, but they insisted that fighting one another was the only way to win my heart, and wearing gray sweat pants and no shirt was, alas, compulsory too. It was torture, but I was happy to take the hit for womankind everywhere.

  “You’re a little shit,” I snap, quickly realizing where the pain came from, despite still being half asleep. I scowl at the gray furry beast licking her paws on the empty side of my bed. “I swear, if Grandma hadn’t have loved you so much, I would have gone Cruella de Vil on your ass by now.” The threat is a variation of the same one I make almost every day and she never listens. Clearly, she’s aware who rules this house. “Come on, Blanche, let’s get you some food,” I concede with a sigh.

  Easing myself to the edge of my bed, I stretch around a practically yodeled yawn. Grandma always said to let your lungs work first thing in the morning, making sure you’re ready to put people in their place for the rest of the day. I chuckle, my gran was a cantankerous old coot, but I loved her.

  The house phone rings, pulling me out of my staring contest with the wall. I stand and promptly trip over the damn cat who is now curled around my feet. I shriek as I fall forward, face-planting into a pile of clothes in the corner of my room. My decision to sit and eat a packet of Oreos yesterday, while watching The Bachelor, rather than putting my clothes away, was obviously the right choice. I feel vindicated for my decision as I try to drag myself up from the floor, minus the broken nose, which I totally would have had if the clothes weren’t still there. The phone finally stops repeating its intrusive tone, and I wonder why I haven’t removed the landline in favor of my cell.

  Blanche sits waiting to be fed and staring at me as though I’m her incompetent human. The phone startles me as it rings again and I sigh, finally clambering up and hurrying out to the hallway, grabbing it from the cradle.

  “Hello?” I hiss out as my toe meets the wall with a thump.

  I will not cry.

  “Nola, don’t ignore my calls, I’m sick of you doing that.” My sister’s shrill tone pokes at my ear. I groan audibly, which only serves to piss Bryony off even more. “You think you’re so amazing. You stayed with the old battle axe, so you should have the house? Well guess what, Nola, she didn’t allow me to take care of her, so I never had the same opportunities you did,” she shrieks and I can imagine her arms flailing about as she rants.

  I roll my eyes and heave out a heavy sigh. “You offered to look after her once and I came back to find the fire department on the doorstep,” I snap.

  “How was I supposed to know her microwave was shoddy?” she complains.

  “Her microwave wasn’t shoddy, Bryony. It also wasn’t built to dry panties and, before you say another word, I don’t want to know why you were drying your panties in Grandma’s microwave.” I shudder.

  “It had been a late night-”

  “Shut up, shut up, shut up!” I screech the words and bash the phone against the wall before slowly bringing it back to my ear.

  “Nola, stop being a bitch,” Bryony shouts. “God!” She huffs out the word as she seems to be reining her irritation in. “I’m calling to let you know, if you don’t sell the house and give me half the money, I’m going to get legal representation,” Bryony states, now without humor or emotion in her voice.

  My grandma always said, ‘One day that girl will go to hell, then the devil himself will be out of a job.’

  I sigh heavily, sick of having the same conversation with her. “Bryony, I’m not selling the house, not now, not ever,” I tell her.

  Blanche chooses that moment to jump up onto the shelf where my grandma’s china cat figurines are lined up. I eye her suspiciously as she sits on the end, staring at me. I hold my hand toward my face, pointing two fingers at my eyes, then spin my hand around and point the same two fingers at her.

  Yes, I’m trying to intimidate my cat by silently telling her I’m watching her. Don’t judge me.

  Blanche practically rolls her eyes – obviously she doesn’t actually roll her eyes, but I can sense the hostility.

  “Listen,” Bryony hisses, “I want that money, I need that money and I’m not joking anymore.”

  “You were joking before?” It’s the wrong thing to say apparently.

  “Nola!” she screams into my ear. “I’m not fucking around!”

  “You’re not? What are you doing with all the spare time you have now, then?” I reply.

  “Fuck you, Nola. Fuck you!” she screams, before hanging up. I look at the phone, then place it back in the holder and scratch my head.

  “Shit, I probably just made things worse,” I murmur to Blanche. The cat stares at me a
nd I swear she smirks, before pushing the figurine nearest to her off the edge of the shelf. I can’t reach it quick enough as it slams against the floor and shatters.

  My head drops back, “Grandma, why did you leave me a fucking psycho cat?”

  Blanche hisses, jumps down from the shelf and swipes my ankle.

  “Alright, dickhead, I’ll get your food. Damn cat.” I shuffle into the kitchen, yawning and stretching as I walk, still trying to shake the sleep off. Just as I empty a pouch of food into Blanche’s bowl there’s a knock on the door and I groan, “What now?” As I drop the bowl filled with food to the floor, a thud echoes from the front door again, quickly followed by a third bang. “Seriously?” I shout, throwing my hands up as I storm toward the door, but when I throw the door open the figure on the other side is the last thing I’m expecting.

  I scream, the goat – who was standing happily at my door – screams in return, then Pixy – the goat – promptly passes out. Once my heartrate calms down I mumble to myself, “Of course, what else could it be? This is my life.” Grabbing the phone on my wall again, I dial my friend Aubrey.

  “Hello,” her husband Chance answers.

  “Are you missing something?” I question, a smile on my face.

  “Fuck, he’s over at yours again?”

  I chuckle, “Yes, currently he’s passed out at my front door. It seems he decided to head-butt the door to get my attention, but didn’t consider me opening it. Granted, I have just woken up, but I’ve never scared either a human or animal so badly that they pass out just from a single look at my face before.”

  Chance laughs. “He clearly has a soft spot for you, I mean, if he passes out at your feet.”

  “Yeah, although it would be better if he didn’t scream in my face first.” I don’t mention I screamed first.

  Chance laughs. “Aubrey, Pixy is at Nola’s house,” he shouts.

  “Again!” I hear Aubrey’s reply in the background.

  “I’ll come over and get him. I don’t want your demon cat turning him into a female.”

  I roll my eyes and shrug, even though he can’t see me. The thing is he’s not wrong, my cat would totally take on a goat and probably come out on top.

  “I’ll watch over Pixy, so he doesn’t wake up and walk off.”

  “You just make sure to keep your cat away,” he orders.

  I smile and hang up, then rush into my bedroom to put a bra on. I don’t want to share the girls with Chance and, more so, I don’t want to get a black eye if I have to run after the damn goat.

  When I get back to my front step, Pixy is up and staring at me. I sit down and stare back at him. “What? You think it’s okay to leave home and head-butt other people’s front doors? Do you not think you might end up with a crazy person one day? Someone who likes goat stew? And y’all think my cat is bad. Honestly, Pix… you have to stop leaving the safety of your yard,” I tell him as he settles his butt down like a damn dog. Weird goat.

  A few people wander past and cast strange glances at me. I suppose a woman sitting on her front stoop chatting with a goat is bound to draw curiosity.

  “Hey, Mutton,” Chance calls to the lump sitting at my feet, as both him and Aubrey walk towards us. Pixy quickly jerks and gets up, letting out a loud bleat.

  Aubrey rolls her eyes, but scratches the crazy goat behind his ears. “Gotta love my Esmerelda Snowflake,” she says, citing Pixy’s full name and staring at him affectionately.

  I shake my head. “Someone has to I suppose.”

  “Don’t pretend like you don’t really love him. I mean, he’s so much sweeter than that cat,” Aubrey teases.

  “Leave Blanche alone. Grandma loved her.” I lift my chin in defiance.

  “Your grandma was the only one who could control her, and why she named her after one of the Golden Girls I’ll never understand.”

  I shrug. “It was her favorite show.” Although I have to admit myself, there are other names more suited to the beast cat.

  Chance secures Pixy’s lead. “Come on, Mutton, let’s get you home. See you later, Nola,” he mutters, leading the goat away.

  Aubrey settles her butt next to mine, bends her knees and crosses her arms over the top of them. Leaning her chin on her arms, she turns to look at me. “What’s going on?”

  I rub my eyes and let out a little groan. “Bryony called this morning,” I tell her.

  “Ugh, about the house again?”

  I nod. “Yeah.”

  “You know there’s nothing to worry about, right? The Will was ironclad. She can’t make you sell the house and she definitely wouldn’t be entitled to any money if you did.” Aubrey grabs my hand, offering me a little squeeze and a small smile. “Don’t worry.”

  My shoulders drop. I know she’s right, but when you’re being threatened by your sister on the daily, it’s hard. “You know, when we were younger, she was my best friend.”

  “You still hope to see that person someday?” Aubrey asks.

  I sigh. “Is that stupid?”

  “No,” she answers, shaking her head vehemently. “It’s understandable, but you also have to know when to let go,” she says quietly.

  “She’s my twin.” My reply is almost a plea.

  “The only thing you two ever shared, was a womb. Even your birthdays are on different days. She’s nothing like you.”

  “But she used to be,” I whisper. “We used to be like peas and carrots.”

  “Forrest Gump, really?” Aubrey nudges me and smiles. “Your house is safe, the question you really have to ask is what you want from your life. Ever since your grandma died you’ve been floating.”

  I open my mouth to say something, but she shakes her head.

  “No, listen. I know it was hard, but you have to think about what you want now.”

  I know she’s right. I purse my lips and narrow my eyes at her. “When did you become so hyper aware, are you a shrink now?” I thump my shoulder against hers.

  Her nose scrunches up and she tilts her head. “Well, I do have Chance as a husband, and a goat as a pet.”

  “Hmm,” I reply, “I guess it was either psycho analyze everyone or lots of valium, then?”

  We both laugh.

  “Listen, why don’t we go out shopping tomorrow? I could do with a day out,” she sighs, “Plus, I need a new jacket.”

  I smile. “Did the dogs at the shelter finally kill the last one?”

  Her eyebrow arches. “Nope, it was the flipping cats!”

  I smirk. “Damn those cats.”

  We sit silently for a moment, watching the world go by. My house is behind Aubrey and Chance’s, which sits beachside. A walkway runs between us and because of that, if I look to my right, I can still see the golden sands and blue sea of the beach. The walkway being at the front of my house means the foot traffic is high, but it also allows Aubrey and me to people watch.

  “His muscles are far too big for his height,” Aubrey murmurs and I look toward a short, stocky guy with huge muscles. They bunch as he walks and I wince, because it looks like something might snap. Veins protrude across his arms and legs and he doesn’t really have a neck.

  “Hmm, he probably shouldn’t wear green lycra shorts,” I add, wincing again.

  She shakes her head. “Not if he wanted to wear a leopard print tank with them.”

  “True, but if he didn’t wear those clothes, the green flip flops and his brown mullet would look odd.”

  “Eat your heart out Tiger King,” Aubrey says with a giggle.

  Laughter rumbles between us again and I’m thankful, not for the first time, to have a friend in Aubrey.

  Chapter Two

  NOLA

  “Did you find a job?” Aubrey asks the next morning, as she opens her front door. She turns and walks back to the kitchen and I follow her, slumping down on a stool at the breakfast bar while she goes back to making coffee.

  “Nope. It was a bust. I searched everywhere online, even Craigslist,” I reply.

 
Aubrey tuts and turning to look at me she wipes her hands on a towel. “Why the hell are you looking for a job on Craigslist? Do you want to be murdered?”

  I smile. “A little dramatic.”

  Her hands find her hips and she frowns. “You know, there was a man who was looking for a job as a chef. He found one on Craigslist and went to visit the supposed employer. His family never saw him again.” She leans forward surreptitiously, and I look around, half expecting to see a SWAT team waiting to pounce. “Apparently, he became the meal.” Her eyes widen and she nods.

  “Good job I never finished my culinary degree then,” I whisper.

  She throws the dish towel at me. “You’re so bad.”

  I smile but deep down the lost degree makes me sad. My plan was to work in a busy restaurant as a head chef, and maybe one day to have my own business. I never really wanted to be a chef, my heart has always been in baking, but culinary school made sense. It was close to home and, at the time, affordable. I had to let my degree go when Grandma got really ill. Instead, I became her full-time caregiver. The only saving grace was that she paid for my college education, so I wasn’t in a hole with debt. Luckily, Grandma had great medical insurance, and the small amount of money she left me on top of the house, I’ve used to keep me afloat. But Aubrey was right yesterday, I have been drifting. I need to do something and I really need to find a job. I’ve calculated I have another two months, after which I will have blown through all of Gran’s money. I’m careful with what I spend, but I can’t live for free, no matter what the government seems to believe.