Page 6 of Cocky Brutal Sinner

Beau Bishop, best man. That's what the place card says.

Traitor. Liar. Sinner. That's what I am.

“Beauuuuu,” he croons tipsily, throwing an arm around my shoulder. “Where’d you disappear to?”

“Looking for a charger. My phone ran out of juice.” The lie slips out easily, before I’m even thinking of an answer.

Luke doesn’t question it. “Aw, man. You found one?”

In answer, I hold up my phone and snap a photo of him. He instinctively covers his face with his hands.

“No way,” he groans. “I’ve had too much whiskey to take a good picture.”

“Nah, I think this is good material for your dating profile.” I show him the pic, where his eyes are red and his mouth is open like a fish’s.

Across the room, Brinley’s swaying on the dance floor with Cat, Pippa, and Maura. She looks totally composed, like the past twenty minutes never even happened.

This is what we are, Brinley and me. Two people who can only ever love each other in ten-minute increments, behind closed doors.

2

BRINLEY

The coffeemaker behind me beeps, telling me that it’s done brewing. I take a long inhale, and I’m greeted by my favorite smell in the world—fresh coffee, paper books, and the faint pine-tinged scent of floor cleaner. It’s the smell of the Copper Cup, my little bookstore and café, right before I switch the sign from “closed” to “open.” The last quiet minute of my day, when I’m still the queen of my own kingdom.

Then a small van pulls up in front of the store, and I hurry over to unlock the door. My first customers have arrived, at the same time they do every Tuesday—9:00 a.m. on the dot. Shady Oaks Nursing Home shuttles its residents to several weekly activities, and the Copper Cup is lucky enough to be on their schedule.

As a small business owner, building ties to the community is essential to keeping sales up. I try to host as many events as possible to keep people coming back and buying books and coffee. Usually, I have one a day at most. But every month, there’s one overscheduled Tuesday where we’re absolutely slammed.

And lucky me, today is that dreaded Tuesday. Trevor, my part-time student employee, had to take off for his finals. That means I’ll be running all day, tending to customers.

Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, the delusional bookseller steels herself to face the onslaught of uncaffeinated customers, in the mistaken belief that she could face their needs alone. Two stars, predictable ending.

“Good morning!” I call, waving to the van.

First out of the van’s sliding door is Prudence Grimsworth, a tiny, hunched, gray-haired woman who’s every bit as pleasant as her name implies. I don’t mind, because I get a kick out of her buying all the spiciest romance novels off our shelves. Seriously, Ms. Grimsworth has read some of the filthiest smut out there, from minotaur threesomes to taboo romances that make Flowers in the Attic look like a Disney movie. She’s who I want to be when I grow up.

“Anything new?” she grunts at me. “Or did I waste my whole morning?”

“I got some new titles in last night,” I promise her. “I set aside an orc romance for you.”

“Orc, huh?” She looks a little impressed, despite herself.

“I’ll grab it from the register after I’ve got everyone’s coffee orders in.”

It takes ten minutes to get all the Shady Oaks folks out of the van, and another twenty for me to make up their breakfast teas and cappuccinos. Ms. Grimsworth’s frown looks permanently etched on her face when I finally bring over the promised book. The frown turns into a smile—okay, not a smile, but a less intense scowl—as she reads through the first chapters of The Lady and the Orc.

After the retirees leave, Paige Turner rushes in, her giant purple wig barely hanging on by a bobby pin. Paige is the drag queen who hosts a monthly story hour for preschoolers and their exhausted parents. She’s also perpetually late.

“Fuck, shit, sorry,” she wheezes. “I know I’m behind. I missed my first bus.”

I hand her a cup of water. “It’s fine. I guess the kids are running a little behind, too.”

Paige still hasn’t figured out that I switched the official start time for her event from 10 to 10:30 on the Copper Cup’s website months ago. It’s a little underhanded of me, but I figure it’s worth it to keep the preschoolers from hearing their favorite storyteller swear like a sailor.

By the time the kids and their parents filter in, Paige’s wig is fully attached to her head and I’ve warmed up the sugar-free carrot muffins, which always sell out at storytime. Once everyone’s settled down to listen to Paige read If You Give A Moose A Muffin, I take my opportunity to restock the romance inventory after the nursing home invasion. Tonight, the after-work book club is meeting to discuss The Road. It’s a little-known fact that the more depressing the book club book, the more likely everyone is to buy a romance novel to cheer themselves up.

While preschoolers giggle in the background, I fill up the display tables with hockey romance books. My eyes catch on a cover illustration of a broad-shouldered brunette, with his hair hanging a little shaggy over his forehead. He looks a little like⁠—