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This is an exclusive sneak peek of
COCKY
BASTARD
by Penelope Ward & Vi Keeland
I wondered if the
vibration would feel good between my legs.
The sun caught the
chrome of a Harley Davidson parked a few spots over, gleaming in the sweltering
midday sun. I waited until Maroon Five
finished playing on the radio, oddly fixated on the two-wheeled-man-toy as I fished
in my purse for my cell phone. The
motorcycle was simple—high gloss black and shiny silver, worn leather
saddlebags with a skull embossed below the initials C.B.
How good would it
feel to ride? Wind blowing through my
long hair, arms wrapped around a man with a tough sounding nickname, engine
purring beneath my jean clad thighs.
Horse? Drifter? Guns?
Wait. No. Pres.
My imaginary biker was most definitely called Pres. And he’d look just like Charlie Hunnam.
I glanced down at
my iPhone and found a half dozen new messages from Harrison. Inwardly, I smirked. Certainly, there is no one named Harrison
that ever rode a Harley. Tossing my phone back in my bag, I cut the engine of
my packed BMW and glanced behind me into the backseat. Boxes piled to the ceiling were beginning to
make my full-size car feel claustrophobic.
A bus full of
travelers pulled into the rest stop. Great.
I’d better go in now and get my lunch, otherwise I’d never get out of here. Ten
hours into a cross-country trip from Chicago to Temecula, California, I was somewhere
in the middle of Nebraska with about another twenty some odd hours to go.
After a
fifteen-minute wait inside for Pepsi and Popeyes fried chicken bites that I planned to eat back in the car, I
stopped into the small souvenir shop. I
was so tired and didn’t really feel like driving the additional five hours I
had to go before finding a place to sleep for the night. Yawning, I decided to
stall and browse for a few minutes.
Checking out some trinkets, I eventually picked up a Barack Obama
bobblehead and shook it mindlessly, watching its maniacal smile as the head
bounced up and down.
“Get it. You know
you want it,” a deep, raspy voice said from behind my shoulders. Startling me,
it caused a knee-jerk reaction that resulted in the bobblehead slipping from my
fingers and falling to the ground. The head broke off of the spring neck and
rolled away.
The woman at the
register shouted, “I’m sorry, ma’am. You’ll have to pay for that. Twenty
dollars.”
“Damn it!” I
spewed, following the path of the rolling head. As I bent down to pick it up,
there was the voice again from behind me.
“And to think,
some people say he’s got a good head on his shoulders.” He seemed to have an
Australian accent.
“You think this is
funny, asshole?” I asked before turning around and getting my first look at the
man behind the voice.
I froze.
Oh. Shit.
“You don’t need to
be a fucking bitch about it.” His mouth curved into a wicked grin as he handed
me the bottom half of Obama. “And for the record, I did think that was really
funny, yes.”
I swallowed and
seemed to lose my ability to speak as I took in the Adonis standing before me.
I wanted to smack that cocky smile right off his face, though—his gorgeous,
chiseled, scruffy face, framed by a thick head of copper-brown hair. Fuck me. This man was insanely hot, not
someone I expected to come across out here. This was the middle of nowhere USA,
not the Australian outback for Christ’s sake.
I cleared my
throat. “Well, I didn’t think it was funny at all.”
“Then, you need to
take the stick out of your arse and lighten up.” He reached out his hand. “Give
it to me, Princess. I’ll pay for the damn thing.” Before I could respond, he
grabbed the two broken pieces from me, and I cursed at the shiver that ran down
my spine from the brief contact of his hand brushing against mine. Of course,
he had to smell amazing on top of it all.
I followed him to
the register as I fished through my messy purse for money, but he was too quick
and had paid for it already.
He handed me a
plastic bag containing the broken bobblehead. “There’s some change in the bag.
Buy yourself a sense of humor.”
HUE-MA. That accent.
My jaw dropped as
he walked away and out of the store.
What an ass.
It was. A fine
one. A thick, juicy, round ass hugged tightly by his jeans. God, I really
needed to get laid, because it didn’t seem to matter that this guy had just
insulted me to my face; my panties were practically wet.
After several
minutes of staring into space at a shelf of Nebraska Cornhuskers t-shirts, I
gave myself a mental kick in the butt. My reaction to the incident proved that
fatigue had gotten the best of me; I wasn’t usually that short-tempered. It was
time to shake off the bizarre encounter and get moving. My stomach was
growling, and I was looking forward to breaking into the fried chicken once I
hit the road. I snuck a piece out of the box in my bag as I walked out of the
building. My chewing ceased when I noticed him
two spots down from my car—sitting on the very motorcycle I’d been fantasizing
about earlier.
Approaching
slowly, I hoped he didn’t notice me. No such luck. Instead, when he spotted me,
he flashed an exaggerated smile and waved.
Frantically
searching for my keys, I rolled my eyes and muttered, “You again.”
He snickered. “Did
you end up buying a sense of humor?”
“I used the change
to buy you some couth instead.”
Chuckling, he
shook his head at me. Running his hand
through his hair, he put his shiny black helmet on and cranked the Harley. The
rumble shook me to my core.
Getting in the car
and slamming the door, I couldn’t help taking one last look over at him, seeing
as though I’d never see this guy again in my lifetime. He winked through the
helmet, and my pathetic heart fluttered.
I watched through
the rear view mirror as he backed out of the spot. I expected him to take off
like a bat out of hell, but after moving away slowly, he abruptly stopped. He
kept trying to rev the bike to get it to move, but nothing was happening.
Eventually turning off the engine, he removed his helmet and ran his hand
through his hair in frustration before getting off to inspect things. I should
have just left, but couldn’t take my eyes off him as he struggled to get it to run. Man,
that sucks.
I dipped one of
the chicken bites into the honey mustard sauce and popped it into my mouth,
continuing to watch this like a spectator sport for several minutes. At one
point, he took out his phone and made a phone call as he paced back and forth.
Putting his phone
away, he looked in my direction and glared at me. Caught in the act of watching
him, I let out a nervous laugh. I didn’t mean to laugh at the situation, but it
just came out. He raised his brow, and that made me cackle harder. He slowly
walked toward me, clutching the helmet by his side. He knocked on my window,
and I lowered it.
“You think this is
funny, Princess?”
“Not
really…maybe.” I snorted.
“Well, I’m glad
you finally managed to find your sense of humor.”
HUE-MA.
God, his accent
was sexy.
He arched his neck
to look into the backseat and took notice of all the boxes. “You homeless or
something? Living out of your car?”
“No. I’m in the
middle of a cross-country move.”
“Where you
headed?”
“Temecula.”
“California.” He
nodded. “Me, too.”
I looked toward
his Harley. “Well, it looks like you’re
not exactly headed anywhere anytime
soon. I guess it’s payback for calling me a bitch.”
“Well, that would
seem to be the case.”
“That it’s
payback?”
“No, that you’re a
bitch.”
“Very funny.”
“You know what’s
even better than payback?” he asked leaning into the window, his cologne
intoxicating me.
“What?”
He wiggled his
brows. “Karma.”
“What are you
talking about?”
“Come around and
have a look at the back of your Beemer.”
BEE-MA.
I got out and
walked around to the back of my car to find my right rear tire was completely
flat.
What? This cannot be happening.
With my hand on my
forehead, I looked over at his smug expression. “Are you kidding me? Did you
know my tire was flat all this time?”
“I noticed it
right around the time I caught you popping chicken and laughing at me, yes. It
was real hard for me to keep a straight face at that point.”
I didn’t know how
to change a tire to save my life. I couldn’t believe what I was about to ask of
him.
“Do you know how
to change a tire?”
“Of course I do.
What kind of a man would I be if I didn’t know how to change a tire?”
“Will you help me?
I know you have no reason to want to…after our little altercation, but I’m
seriously desperate. I don’t want to be stuck out here all alone at night.”
“Let me ask you a
question.”
“Okay…”
He rubbed the
scruff on his chin. “How badly do you want your tire changed?”
I backed away from
him. “What exactly are you getting at?”
“Get your mind out
of the gutter, sweetheart. I’m not fucking propositioning you if that’s what
you think. You’re not my type.”
“And what exactly is your type?”
“I typically go
for women who don’t have the personality of a door knob.”
“Thanks.”
“My pleasure.”
“So, what are your
conditions?”
“Well, as you
clearly know from your laughing fit, my Harley is experiencing a technical
malfunction at the moment. It needs a part that I don’t have. I just called a
tow company. But I’m on a deadline, and like you, I need to get to California.”
“You’re not
suggesting…”
“Yes. Yes, I am.
If I change your tire, you let me ride with you.”
“Ride with me?”
“Ride me, yes.”
“What did you just
say?”
“You’re hearing
things.”
I shook my head to
rid the images now flashing through it. Did my tired mind only imagine that he
just said that, or was he messing with me?
“I cannot drive
hundreds of miles with a total stranger,” I said.
“It’s a fuck of a
lot safer than driving alone.”
“Not if you’re a
serial killer!”
“Look who’s
talking. You’re the one who decapitated a U.S. president.”
I couldn’t help
but laugh. This situation was seriously insane.
“Holy shit,
Princess, is that a laugh at your own expense, I see?”
“I think you’re
making me delirious.”
He stuck out his
hand. “So, you in?”
I crossed my arms
instead of taking it. “What choice do I have?”
“Well, you could
always have him change your tire.” He
gestured to a large and scary-looking man who seemed to be watching us. This
guy looked like Herman Munster in the flesh.
Letting out a deep
breath, I conceded. “I’m in. I’m in! Just get me out of here.”
“I thought you
might say that. Please tell me you have a spare.”
“Yeah. But I have
to move some of my boxes so you can get to it.”
He started to
crack up when he got a load of the situation inside my trunk. “Damn, what the
hell is all this crap?”
I looked into his
eyes and answered honestly, “My entire life.”
I temporarily
piled the contents of the trunk onto the pavement. He got the spare out and
immediately got to work.
As he was changing
the tire, his white t-shirt rode up, exposing his tanned, rock-hard abs and a
thin trail of hair that ran into his underwear line. Unwanted tension built
between my legs. I needed a distraction, so I walked over to his bike and sat
on it, gripping the handles and imagining what it would be like to ride in the
wind. But all I could envision now was him in front of me, and that wasn’t
helping.
He slid his body
from under my car. “Be careful, little girl. That’s not a toy.”
I hopped off and
ran my finger along the letters emblazoned on the saddlebags. “What’s C.B.
stand for anyway?”
“Those are my
initials.”
“Let me guess…Cocky Bastard?”
“See…I would have
told you my name, but since you’re so clever, I think I’ll just let you guess.”
“Whatever, Cocky.”
He lay back down
on the ground. “I’m just tightening up these nuts, and we’ll be ready to go.”
“Nuts?”
“Lug nuts…on the
wheel, dirty girl.”
“Oh.”
Hopping up, he
lifted his shirt and used it to wipe his forehead. “All set.”
Damn.
“That was quick.
Are you sure it’s on right?”
“I’ve got a few screws
loose, darling, as you’ll soon find out, but none of them are on your wheel.”
He winked and for the first time, I noticed his dimples. “We should probably
stop tomorrow and get a new tire put on. This spare is really not meant for
long term use.”
Tomorrow. Wow. This was really happening.
“We should get
going,” I said. “I’ll drive. I need to be in control of this situation.”
“Whatever you
want,” he said.
I could feel the
tension in my neck as I backed out of the spot. This was going to be very
interesting to say the least. He wasted no time digging into my chicken bites.
I playfully
slapped his hand. “Hey, lay off my food.”
“Honey mustard? I
prefer barbecue.” He licked his thumb, and I swore at myself for getting turned
on a little. This was going to be a long ride.
He smirked and
lifted the plastic bag from the souvenir shop. “Did you even open it?”
“No. What’s the
point? It’s just a broken bobblehead.”
Handing it to me,
he said, “Is it?”
With one hand on
the steering wheel, I took out the bobblehead which was…in one piece.
“What the…how did
you?”
“You seemed to
like it, so I paid for the other and bought you a different one. You were too
busy looking through your purse to notice.”
I couldn’t help
but smile and shook my head.
“Well, whaddya
know. A genuine smile.” He held out his hand. “Here…gimme.” When, I handed it
to him, he took an adhesive strip off the bottom and stuck it to the dash.
Obama’s head was now bopping up and down with every movement of the car.
I broke out in
laughter at the ridiculousness but also couldn’t help the warm feeling that
came over me with that sweet gesture. Maybe he wasn’t really a bastard at all.
We were quiet for
a while as he lay his head back and shut his eyes. Somewhere along I-76 after
the sun set into a bright orange glow that illuminated the horizon in the
distance, he turned to me.
His voice was
groggy. “I’m Chance.”
After several
seconds of silence, I said, “Aubrey.”
“Aubrey,” he
repeated in a breathy whisper, seeming to contemplate my name before closing
his eyes again and turning his head away.
Chance.
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Want a reminder on release day?
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RELEASE DATE: August 17th, 2015
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