Worst Best Friend Ever: A best friends to lovers military romance (A Time For Love Book 3) Read online

  Worst Best Friend Ever

  J. S. Cooper

  Copyright © 2022 by J. S. Cooper

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  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

  Blurb

  I’ve been writing letters to a military man overseas and now he’s coming back home…

  I started writing to Cody two years ago while he was stationed at a base overseas. I’ve told him everything about my life… only I slightly embellished some parts. Like that I’m really into sports, have a serious boyfriend, and I’m in my fifties. I had my reasons, you see, but now he wants to meet, and I’m scared he’s going to think I’m a big liar.

  So I decide to tell him that I’m his pen pal’s daughter—yeah, nothing like adding oil to the fire. But when we meet, I can’t help but think how handsome he is and how I want more. But how can I start a relationship with someone who doesn’t know the real me?

  Am I the worst best friend ever?

  Chapter One

  Emma

  “Hola, Emma, chica. Did it hurt?” The tall blond saxophone player with the glassy blue eyes approached me backstage. I knew he had to be back on stage soon.

  “Did what hurt?” I looked up from the scheduling book I was going through, my lips stained black from the pen I was chewing on.

  “The fall from heaven.” He chuckled as he leaned toward me.

  I faked a laugh. Steve Dillon was one of the best saxophone players in the city. He was always a big draw at the jazz club, and I couldn’t afford to alienate him. His pickup lines were pathetic, but he was as handsome as he was talented. He went home with a different woman almost every night.

  “Just a little bit.” I caught him trying to stare down my top. Creeper! “Isn’t your break nearly done? The next set is about to start.”

  “Go out with me, Emma.” He fiddled with a reed in his fingers. “Blow me, or at least hook me up with one of your hot friends.”

  I gave him a tight smile. “Well, Isabella and Abby have boyfriends now. And Chloe and I aren’t looking.” Especially not for a walking STD like you, I thought to myself, but I made sure to keep my mouth shut. Steve could easily get me fired.

  “Too bad.” He sucked suggestively on the reed. “I’m not looking to be a boyfriend, though. It can just be a mutually beneficial pleasure thing.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Why did men think that was such an attractive option? Did they not realize that women could pleasure themselves? I certainly didn’t need Steve slobbering all over my lady parts.

  “Well, let me know if you change your mind.”

  His eyes were no longer on me. He’d switched off and was now thinking about the music, his next set and his saxophone, which was how it should be. I hadn’t been lying—I wasn’t looking for a boyfriend—and even if I were, I would never date a jazz musician. Or any musician, for that matter. They were married to their instruments, practice, and performing. A woman would always come last.

  But frankly, I had bigger problems to worry about right now. Problems that were making it hard for me to concentrate on the booking schedule for the next month and updating the club’s social media pages. Cody Remington was coming to town, and I had no idea how I was going to get out of it. Cody was a soldier I’d been writing to for the last couple of years. Even though we’d never met, I felt like he was one of my best friends.

  The problem was he didn’t know who I really was.

  I grabbed my phone and texted my best friends, Chloe, Abby, and Isabella in a group chat to see if anyone was free to go out for a drink. I needed their advice.

  Emma: Anyone up for a drink tonight? I get off in about an hour. Was thinking The Cabin on E. 4th.

  Chloe: I’m in. I need a drink.

  Abby: Let me check with Dylan. He mentioned he wanted to watch a movie tonight.

  Emma: Hope you can come. This is a MAYDAY!! I need some advice.

  Abby: Okay, I will try.

  Isabella: I’m in. Jack is doing some work tonight, so I’d love a ladies’ night.

  Emma: Yay! I’ve missed you.

  Isabella: I saw you at brunch last Sunday! :P

  Emma: I’m used to seeing you every day.

  Abby: I’m in. Dylan was a bit sad, but hos before bros.

  Isabella: You’re using that in the wrong way, ha ha.

  Abby: Poop.

  Chloe: What?? LOL.

  Abby: Oops, typo. I meant Oops. But yeah, friends for life. If you need me, I’m there.

  Emma: Yay! Thanks, guys! I really need to discuss a plan for Cody. I got another letter today.

  Chloe: Oh boy. Army boy is on the way?

  Emma: YES! Staff Sergeant Cody Remington is coming to New York in a week to see me!! I’m dead meat. Do you think I can pass for midfifties?

  Chloe: Is there a right way to answer that? HA HA.

  Abby: Let’s be real here: no.

  Isabella: Yeah, no way, Emma. You’re a Latina goddess and you don’t look a day over 25.

  Emma: I’m 28. Lol.

  Chloe: LOL. We’re all 28. But no, you can’t pass as 50 and def not as 55.

  Emma: I’m dead.

  Chloe: I have an idea. I’ll tell you more at The Cabin. So an hour?

  Emma: Yup! I should go now. One of the trumpet players is glaring at me because his band is not on the schedule next week. Sigh!

  Isabella: Good luck! See you later.

  Abby: Laters!

  I looked up to see Bryan, a trumpeter, walking up to me. I put my phone back into my purse and took a deep breath. Every single week, Bryan complained about his time slot at the club, but he wasn’t on the schedule for the next week because the owner didn’t think he brought in enough business.

  “Hey, Bryan, is there something you needed to talk to me about?”

  “We’re not on the schedule. What’s going on, Emilia?” He spoke in a Spanish accent.

  “It’s Emma, and I know. We didn’t have a spot for you this week.”

  “You don’t look like an Emma. You look like an Emilia.”

  “Why? Because I’m half Puerto Rican?”

  “More like half sexy, si?” he purred.

  What was with the guys at this club? “Is there anything else I can help you with, Bryan?”

  “What do I have to do to you to get on the schedule next week?” He held his trumpet up. “As you can see, I’m good with my tongue.”

  “You have to be joking.” I stood up. “I really don’t need your bullshit right now, dude. If I were you, I would back the fuck up and leave me alone or you might find that no j
azz club in New York has you on the schedule for the next year.”

  “Feisty, I like it.” He leered at me. “I guess what they say about Latinas is true.”

  “I guess what they say about trumpet players named Bryan is true as well; small dicks and no game.”

  “Ouch!” He clutched his heart. “That one hurt.”

  “Trust me, you’ll know when I hurt you.” I was in no mood to deal with asshole jazz musicians who thought the world revolved around them and their lame come-ons.

  “Is that a promise?” he said, a hint of daring in his voice. I couldn’t tell if he thought I was joking or not, but I knew better than to be aggressive with him. My boss liked me, and he knew that some of the musicians could be assholes, but this was also a business, and the jazz community was very tight knit. The last thing we needed was to be boycotted because some of the groups were very popular, especially among the middle-aged-to-older crowd. Some hipsters had recently really gotten into jazz music as well; I was pretty sure that was because they liked to pretend they were into everything that wasn’t particularly mainstream.

  “Look, Bryan, it’s been a long night, and I’m sure you know how much we value you here. We just didn’t have room on the schedule next week. Hopefully the week after that.”

  I looked at my phone. I didn’t want to give him the opportunity to ask for a firm date on the schedule. “Actually, it looks like my shift is done, so I’m going to leave.” I jumped up and grabbed my bag. “Have a great night.”

  “Well, you have a good night as well.” Bryan nodded and looked back at his trumpet; I guess that was the one good thing about musicians, you could always count on them to be distracted by the music.

  I hurried out of the club, letting out a sigh of relief as I left. I could hear the sounds of the band playing an old Charlie Parker number and I smiled. Jazz music took me back to my childhood. My grandfather had to listen to it day in and day out. I had vaguely liked it then; I had a much keener appreciation for it now.

  Chapter Two

  Cody

  “So you’re going to see that mother you’ve been chatting with?” Mikey raised an eyebrow as we chugged our beers at the bar.

  It felt surreal to be back in Charlotte, North Carolina, drinking beers with my best friend from high school as if the last twelve years hadn’t happened. I’d been an Army man for so long that it felt weird being a civilian again. I’d spent the last two years in Afghanistan in a war zone, and it was hard to relax, even with my best friend.

  “I didn’t know you were into MILFs, but I guess you Army guys gotta take what you can get.” Mikey chuckled as he sat back and looked toward the bartender. “Hey, Linda, you got any women for my friend here?” He nodded toward me as I gripped my pint glass in embarrassment.

  A cute blonde behind the bar made her way toward us. “A cutie like him?” She looked me up and down and pushed her breasts forward. “I can think of a few.” She leaned down on the bar in front of me. “What do you like?”

  “I’m not looking, but thanks.” I smiled politely and shot a glare at Mikey, who just laughed. “I’ll have another shot, though, and whatever you’d like.”

  “So polite.” She smiled through lower lashes. “I can definitely tell you’re a military man.”

  “Growing up in the South and being in the Army taught me well.” I grinned.

  “We don’t have many men like you anymore.” She grabbed a bottle from the top shelf and poured liquid into three shot glasses. “Tequila.” She handed me and Mikey a glass each. “Thanks for your service.”

  “Thank you, ma’am” I downed the shot quickly.

  “I’m no ma’am.” She laughed. “Unless you really want to call me that.”

  “Whatever you prefer.”

  “I prefer a man licking me until I come before sticking his dick in me, but we don’t always get what we want, do we?”

  I’d just lifted my beer to my lips and spluttered into it. I didn’t want her thinking my dick was going anywhere near her, even though it had been two years since I’d been laid and I didn’t even want to remember that. I’d hooked up with my ex, Tiffany, when I’d been home on break, and that had been a mistake.

  Mikey shook his head at my lack of finesse. “Thanks, Linda. Buddy here just got back from Afghanistan recently, so he doesn’t know how to speak to women anymore.”

  “Thanks, Mikey,” I grumbled. “Good to see you again too.”

  “You know I’ve missed you.” He held his glass up. “I just can’t believe you’re going to New York City to meet some old ho.”

  “I want to meet her. And it’s not to get with her. She has a boyfriend, and she’s in her fifties. But she really helped me these last few years. She sent me a letter every week, and so many packages.” I smiled thinking about her letters. “She’s been like a best friend to me.”

  “Just send her a thank-you letter.”

  “I want to thank her in person. I don’t have a job yet, so this is the perfect time to go. And I’ve always wanted to visit New York City.”

  “Dude, haven’t you seen the news? You can’t even walk down the street there without some crime happening.” He paused. “But I guess you’ve been in Afghanistan, so you know what that’s like.”

  “Yeah.” I took another sip of beer.

  I wasn’t going to get into my time at the Bagram base. Life in Afghanistan hadn’t been easy, and I’d seen things that would haunt me for years to come. Mikey was a good friend, but he just wouldn’t understand.

  “So when are you leaving?” Mikey asked.

  “I’m hoping next week. I sent her a letter last week asking when it would be convenient, and if I could get her phone number.”

  I frowned into my beer. I still hadn’t heard back from her yet. Emma Lopez was a friend like I’d never had before. I’d never in my life expected to form a deep friendship with a middle-aged Latina woman, but she’d come to mean so much to me. Her letters had been so heartbreakingly honest and open, and she’d made me feel so connected to home and a life that wasn’t all about war. I knew that she didn’t really know me, but her letters had given me hope in a dark time.

  “Well, I guess good luck.” I could tell Mikey was trying to find the right words to say. He didn’t understand what I was feeling as he’d never been in a situation like mine. “And if you do bang her, I won’t judge you.”

  I counted to three in my head. “I’m not going there to bang her. And frankly, that’s quite disrespectful to her.”

  “What?” His eyes widened and he looked at me like I was crazy. “You, who banged two cheerleaders under the bleachers after our homecoming game, junior year, are going to tell me I’m being disrespectful?”

  “That was in high school, man. We’re not in high school anymore.”

  “Wish I was,” Mikey groaned. “They should tell you that the pus—”

  “Dude,” I cut him off. “Are you desperate or what?”

  “What, I can’t say pussy now?” He got up off of his barstool. “Come on, Cody, let’s have some fun tonight. Wanna play some pool and pick up some chicks for old times’ sake? We can take them back to my place. There’s a hot tub in the backyard.”

  “I mean, if you want.”

  “Trust me, dude. If you’ve never been blown in a hot tub before, you’ve never lived.”

  I laughed. “That really doesn’t make me want to get into your hot tub, Mikey.” I pulled out some twenties and placed them on the bar. “Let’s shoot some pool.”

  I followed him to the other side of the crowded, smoky room. I nodded at two older men who were having an argument over something political and looked away just in case they tried to engage me. I was just not in the mood.

  As I approached the pool table, someone changed the music and I stopped in my tracks. Adele’s song “When We Were Young” was playing. It was one of Emma’s favorites. She’d written about it in two letters. She’d written about dancing and singing in the streets to this song with her friend
s and feeling like a drunken idiot. It was weird to think that I knew so many intimate things about her, and yet I didn’t even know what she looked like. I hoped she’d write me back soon. I wanted to tell her how important her letters had been to me, and I wanted to put a face to the words. And I wanted to stay in contact even though I was no longer in the Army.

  I needed to figure out what was next, and I knew she would be the perfect person to help me figure out what that was.

  “Hey, Cody, these two hotties want to play with us.” Grinning like he’d just hit the lottery, Mikey nodded at two blondes. They wore tight jeans and crop tops and were both giving me come-fuck-me eyes. They were pretty, the sort of women I’d loved in college.

  “Sure.” I took another chug of my beer. “Two versus two?”

  “I want to be with you.” The blonde in the black top sidled up next to me. “I’m Savannah.”

  “Nice to meet you, Savannah.”

  “And yes, I’m named that because my mama was a good Georgia girl.”

  “Well, I do like me some Georgia peaches.” I winked at her, starting to feel like my old self.

  “And I do love me a hunky Southern boy.” She fluttered her eyelashes at me and then touched me lightly on the arm. Her fingers ran up to my biceps, and she gasped. “You’re so muscular and hard.” She bit down on her lower lip, and I knew she was mine for the taking if I wanted her.

  “That’s what she said.” I laughed and grabbed one of the pool sticks. “Wanna put twenty on it?” I asked Mikey, who looked delighted.