Cocksure (The Cochrans of Cocker County)

by Walker, Shiloh

  I ended the call as our vehicles drew abreast. Rolling the window down, I eyed him. “Somebody called this in to dispatch?”

  “A concerned private citizen,” he said, voice full of sarcasm. “Both county and the city PD would have heard the call, but a friend of mine was the one who took it and she knew I’d been assigned to watch your ass so she called me directly. Basically, other than whoever it was that saw you, the two of us are the only ones who know.”

  I rubbed the back of my neck.

  “How did somebody know you were out here, Luke?”

  “Somebody must have seen me turn off 62,” I said, shrugging. I glanced over at Sabrina, guilt twisting in me. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, but she had busied herself with her phone and wouldn’t look at me. “Was anything said in the phone call?”

  “Nothing that should cause you much concern, unless the property owners raises a fuss.” Duncan considered, then shook his head. “It’s not likely. I know them vaguely. Nice folks. They go to church with my mom. Brought a casserole to my grandmother’s funeral.”

  Typical, small-town Indiana folk, I figured.

  “If you hear anything, let me know. I’ll come out and apologize,” I told him.

  He crooked a grin at me. “I’ll do that. Now...about you taking off without me...”

  “Sorry.” I looked away, staring out the window. My thoughts had already gone back to the taut moments with Maureen Wine. And I didn’t like reliving them, even a second. “I’ll try to remember I suddenly need a bodyguard at home.”

  The sharp edge in my voice was obvious even to me.

  Sabrina reached over and touched my shoulder.

  I sucked in a deep breath, then looked over to catch the pensive expression on Duncan’s face.

  It was gone in an instant, but I knew I needed to be more careful. A lot more careful. The two of us hadn’t spoken in years, but once upon a time, we’d been friends—close friends. Close enough, in fact, that Duncan had been one of the few to figure out that something in my life wasn’t exactly right. He’d pushed me on it, too. Pressed me on it. More than a couple of times, he’d come closer to guessing at the problem than he realized, not that I’d ever clued him in on the issue.

  He’d been at the lunch, too.

  I didn’t need him speculating about why I’d suddenly played the asshole card, right after talking to the mother of a guy the two of us had idolized at one time.

  “Sorry, Duncan,” I said, offering him a sincere smile. “It’s been a rough few weeks and it’s catching up to me, but I don’t need to take it out on you.”

  “Hell. What are friends for?” Duncan smiled at me. “Go on. Get on the road. I’ll be behind you.”

  I rolled up at the windows and started off down the narrow road. Duncan did a three-point turn behind me and fell into place at my bumper a minute later.

  “She followed us, didn’t she?” Sabrina’s voice was flat, devoid of emotion.

  Pulling my eyes away from the road, I looked at her.

  Maybe she’d managed to wash all emotion from her voice, but she hadn’t been able to clear it from her eyes. The soft, dark brown was intense with anger, all but burning with it.

  “I didn’t notice anybody following us,” I said honestly.

  She snorted. “Neither did I. But we don’t pay as much attention out here, do we?”

  Both of us tended to look for vehicles that could be trailing us when we were in LA, especially when I’d done something supremely stupid that the paparazzi deemed worthy of extra-special attention. Here in the relatively small-town, slow-paced life that dominated much of southern Indiana, it was different. Sure, there was some buzz going on right now with the engagement, and some talk about my mom, but that wasn’t really the kind of the thing that brought stalker paparazzi out of the woodwork.

  The memory of Maureen Wine’s gaze flashed through my mind, a warning beacon, blinking red.

  I looked away from Sabrina and checked the traffic once more, then pulled out onto the road.

  “No,” I finally said. “We weren’t paying attention.”

  “She wants to cause you problems,” Sabrina said quietly. “Why?”

  I ran my tongue across my teeth as I debated how, or even whether, to answer her.

  There was no point in keeping it quiet.

  “She blames me for Mark’s death.”

  Sabrina’s scorn was obvious in her voice. “You know that’s bullshit, right?”

  The guilt that had chased me for years tried to choke me, but I fought it back. “Yeah. I know it’s bullshit. Even though, for a long time, I agreed with her. But I’m not just speculating here, about Maureen. She actually, literally blames me. She came by the house the morning I decided to leave and told me in no uncertain terms that if I was a little less of a sick little fuck, her son would still be alive. I’d twisted him, according to her. I’d made him sick. I’d made him perverted. And the guilt he felt was all my fault—but he’d been getting better, she said. Was happier, coaching kids again. Then he saw me again and I made him remember all the stuff he’d tried to forget, and that was why he’d jumped.”

  She was quiet for a long, taut moment. When she did finally speak, it was in a voice that shook. “That’s bullshit, Luke. You know that, don’t you?”

  I took her hand and rubbed my thumb across her skin.

  That blind, simple faith was a gentle, heating touch on wounds I’d carried for so long, I’d almost forgotten their existence. That’s how inured I was to their presence—I was just so used to the constant, unending ache, I’d accepted it as normal.

  And it wasn’t.

  Kissing the back of her hand, I held it against my lips for a few more seconds.

  “I know that Sabrina. I told her. Trust me. I know,” I said, lowering her hand.

  She squeezed my fingers tightly. “Whatever she wants, whatever she tries to pull, if she tracks you down and tries to get even fifteen seconds alone with you, promise me you’ll find me. If not me, one of your brothers or sisters. Somebody.”

  My stomach did a slow, ugly crawl southward.

  I didn’t want them knowing about this.

  “Whatever you’re thinking...stop it.” Sabrina squeezed my hand again. “I’m seeing that lost, guilty scared kid in your eyes again, and whatever thought put him back in your eyes shouldn’t be there.”

  “You want me to find my family if she tries to corner me, Ina.” Breath coming harder, I shook my head. “I can’t...I don’t even want to think about that. What if she tries to tell them?”

  “What if she does?” Sabrina countered. “You actually think they’d believe her?” She laughed, the sound sharp and bright, a knife’s edge. “If she tried that shit with your mother, we’d see the most miraculous cardiac rebound in all of history, because your mom would haul herself from the bed and proceed to beat Maureen Wine into the floor. Luke, they’re your family. They’d never believe her over you.”

  She pulled her hand from mine and reached up to brush my hair back. “And it’s up to you, but I think you should tell them. Your mom knows something happened that made you pull away—and she blames herself. Even after all this time. They all think you took off for some flighty or selfish reason—”

  “It was selfish.”

  “It was self-protection,” she said, cutting me off. “Two very different things. You left so you could get away and heal—on your terms. You’re doing that. Don’t let her drag you back into that same place.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Sabrina

  I’D NEVER FELT LIKE Cinderella a day in my life and I wasn’t expecting that change, even though I had a formal gown waiting for me back at the condo, one that was far more beautiful than anything I’d ever owned before. Kelly had decided that, considering the apparent change in our relationship, I needed something flashier than my standard little black dress.

  Standing in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection, I didn’t even recognize myself.
r />   It was a bold, vivid royal blue and the close-fitting body style clung to my curves in a manner that made them...well, pop. I barely had time to appreciate it, though, before Luke knocked on my door.

  “Your stylists are here, Ina,” he said, poking his head inside. His eyes landed on my body and a hot, intense gleam burned from within. “Although I think I’m going to send them away.”

  “My...” I scowled. “Did you say stylists?”

  “Yeah.” He edged a little farther into the room, eyes running over my body in a caress so hungry, it was palpable. “I really think I’ll just send them all away so I can have a couple of hours to spend on my knees in front of you...and under that dress.”

  I squirmed. “This dress is a little too tight for that.”

  “I bet it could handle it just fine.” Luke closed his eyes and drew in a breath. “But Kelly and Harley would have my ass, and Kelly would really tear into you. So I’m going to behave.”

  He came over to me.

  My nipples, tight and hard, stabbed into my padded bra and heat arrowed straight down into my pussy. “I thought you were going to behave.”

  “I am.” He bent down and pressed his mouth to my ear. “I just want you to think about all the things I’m going to do to you when we get back here, Sabrina. And the very first thing will involve you leaning against the front door, holding all that sexy lace up while I lick your pussy until you’re moaning and whimpering, begging me to make you come.”

  My knees turned to water.

  “Then I’m going to have you on your knees, still wearing this beautiful dress, looking like a dream come to life, while you take my cock into your mouth.”

  Face burning hot and my heart racing, I struggled to breathe as he pulled back. There was no teasing smile on his face, as I’d halfway expected. No, he looked like he wanted to devour me.

  It was a look I’d remember for the rest of my life.

  How in the world was I going to let go of him when this was all over?

  He turned then and left. I managed to keep the despair hidden until the door shut, but the second it did, I buried my face in my hands and shuddered as a wave of agony crashed into me.

  A brisk knock at the door had me jerking my head up. Before I could even say, “Come in,” the door opened and two people hurried inside.

  “Sam! Esme!”

  The tall, skinny black man came over to me and grabbed my face in his strong, big hands. Sam was one of stylists who regularly worked with Luke. He loved teasing Luke and flirted outrageously with him—and nearly everybody else he came into contact with. He’d known Luke since they’d worked together on the soap opera that had helped launch his career and Luke had eventually brought Sam to California.

  “Girl, I knew you’d get him sooner or later,” he said, smacking a loud kiss on my stunned mouth. “And I’m good with that. If he ain’t going to cross the line to play with the guys, you’re the only woman I think is good enough for him.”

  My face heated, a sick sensation settling in my belly, one I was all too familiar with. Guilt. I’d known this would be hard, but I hadn’t expected how hard. Misleading Luke’s family, our mutual friends in the industry, all his fans...

  Sam saw something in my face. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

  “She’s nervous, Sam.” Esme, one of the best hair stylists in the business, came over to me and Sam, giving me a friendly pat on the back. “I mean, going out there on the red carpet is nerve-racking the first time anyway. But she’s going to be front and center.”

  She hustled over to the dresser and started unpacking the toolbox-like kit she’d brought. “Get out of that dress, sugar. We’ve got work to do.”

  Sam continued to study me. I could tell he wasn’t buying the nerves bit.

  I summoned up a smile. “It’s nerves,” I assured him. “Just nerves.”

  I could tell by his measuring look that he didn’t believe me, but he just brushed a quick kiss across my cheek and hugged me. “Okay, doll. You just step on into the bathroom and get out of that dress while we get set up in here. We don’t have much time.”

  I frowned at him. “It’s not even three. We don’t have to be there until seven.”

  “And we’ll need every second of the next three hours, honey. Now...go! Move it!” He turned me around and pushed me gently toward the bathroom.

  Look at it this way, I told myself. Sam and Esme will keep you from brooding about what comes next for a little while longer, right?

  A few minutes later, I stepped from the bathroom and my mouth dropped open.

  Somehow, in the span of five minutes, my bedroom had been transformed into a miniature spa. A beautician’s chair sat in the space that had once been occupied by an armchair and every available surface was now covered with the assorted tools of Sam and Esme’s dual trades.

  Esme caught me by the arm and marched me over to the seat. “Come on. Sit.” She spoke with the firm voice of a military officer, clearly not in the mood for anything by immediate obedience.

  I’d never been much for that and eyed everything around me warily. There were two unfamiliar people standing by the doorway and I gave them a skeptical look while Esme pushed me into the seat. “What is all of this?”

  “You’re getting the works,” Sam said briskly. He pushed something by my head and the seat immediately went back so that I was practically flat. At the same time, it lifted, bringing me into the air where the two stylists stared at me like a bug under a microscope.

  Esme caught my chin and moved it back and forth.

  “You use a pretty decent skin care regimen,” she announced after a few seconds. “But it could be better. I can give you some tips that won’t break the bank. It will help close the pores.”

  “I...will you tell me what in the world we’re doing?”

  “Facial, waxing, sugar scrub,” Sam said in a singsong voice. “You’re going on the red carpet tonight, sweetie, on the arm of one of the most beautiful men in the world and you’re going to shine every bit as much as he does.”

  I started to argue.

  Esme smacked something cold and gooey on my face. “What Sam said. Harry, Clare, get over here and get to work. You know the drill.”

  Two hours later, I’d been scrubbed, polished and waxed within an inch of my life, and for most of it, I’d been either completely or mostly nude in front of two friends, and two total strangers. I’d pretty much decided that embarrassment was a waste of time and energy and I told myself to go to my happy place.

  That meant finding a happy place.

  Where the hell was my happy place?

  The mountains, maybe.

  Or the beach.

  Maybe mountains and a beach?

  With Luke. In an alternate universe where he really loved me—

  “Okay, up you go.”

  Sam grabbed my hands and pulled me up. My muscles felt limp. For the past twenty minutes, he and Esme had been treating me to a quick massage, because apparently, I had been as tense as a guitar string.

  Esme threw a robe about my shoulders. “Into the shower. There’s a new set of bath products, including shampoo and conditioner in there. Wash your hair first, then put the conditioner in. I put a mask treatment in earlier—it will come out when you wash so your hair will be just gorgeous tonight.”

  I took my time walking to the bathroom, not altogether convinced of the strength in my legs just yet. They held, though, and I all but collapsed against the door once inside, pitifully grateful for some privacy.

  There were women who enjoyed this, right?

  I’d settle for my monthly manicures and pedicures, thank you very much.

  “Get it over with,” I told myself.

  I washed, some of my frustration fading as I felt how insanely soft my skin was. Okay, so maybe the scrubs and polishes had some benefit. I had to admit that even my hair felt better as I finished rinsing out the conditioner. I had a decent hair-care regimen, but this was like six steps above.

>   Feeling a little less irritated as I climbed out, I wrapped my hair in a towel and dried off, slipping back into the robe. I paused by the mirror, glancing at my reflection out of habit, then stopped, taking a longer look.

  “Wow.”

  Okay, whatever Esme had in her bag of tricks was worth gold. I had no idea what she’d done, but my face glowed. I wasn’t even wearing makeup. Yet my skin looked smoother, more radiant and just...glowy. Yeah, not a word, but I couldn’t think of anything better to describe the luminous quality of my features.

  “Hurry it up, doll!” Sam called through the door. “We’re on the clock!”

  I gave my reflection one last wondering look before turning to leave.

  “Doesn’t she look ravishing?” Sam ushered me into the living room where big, bright lights had been set up. Luke had just finished an interview with a local TV station and I wanted to duck behind Sam’s tall, lanky form and hide. Not that his scarecrow-like figure would offer much protection, but at least I’d be able to pretend all of those people weren’t staring at me.

  I’d stared at myself a few moments ago, long and hard, not quite believing the glamorous bombshell of a woman was me.

  The stunning, vivid cobalt of the dress made my dusky, golden skin even more vibrant, the lace overlay giving it a fragile look. The curve-skimming material flattered my hips and breasts and the dip of my waist, and the ruching at the side, along with a light dusting of Swarovski crystals further accentuated my hourglass figure.

  The off-the-shoulder neckline played up my cleavage and strong shoulders. The dress skimmed close to my body until the knee where it flared out into a mermaid skirt, layers of lace spilling down and forming a small train behind me.

  I’d long since accepted my plus-sized curves and had learned how to dress to accentuate them while minimizing the flaws, but I’d never felt gorgeous...until tonight.

  Then I caught sight of Luke and the way he looked at me made my fluttering heart begin to race and pound so hard, it left me breathless.

  He’d been talking to a reporter—a pretty, tall, slim redhead who stood about ten inches closer than necessary and she had her hand on his arm as she stared up at him, a teasing smile her on face.