Cocksure (The Cochrans of Cocker County)

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Cocksure (The Cochrans of Cocker County) Page 4

by Walker, Shiloh


  I shoved the thoughts back, refusing to dwell on them right now. The last thing I wanted to do was break down and cry around Luke again. Before I could say anything else, he took my hand in his. “I’m sorry. I got you thinking about her again.”

  My mouth went dry at the feel of his hand holding mine. My heart rabbited up to a ridiculous speed and I immediately jerked away my gaze. Let him think I was upset about my mom. In that moment, I didn’t care.

  He continued to hold my hand. Self-preservation tried to kick in—I should pull my hand from his. Such a simple touch shouldn’t do this to me, but then again, it was Luke.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, stroking his thumb across the back of my hand.

  I suppressed a shiver. “I’m fine, Luke,” I managed to say. Summoning up all my will power, I looked back at him. “It’s sweet of you to worry. But I’m fine. And your mom is going to be fine, too. She’s too stubborn not to be.”

  He laughed a little. “Well, there is that.”

  I waited for him to let go of my hand.

  But he didn’t. Not until the SUV came to a stop in front of the drop-off zone at the airport.

  WE LANDED AT LOUISVILLE International Airport a little after eleven that night. Crossing the country and several times zones had made for one hell of a long day. Both Luke and I had been up since before dawn. He’d had his two interviews and I was still juggling the rest of his schedule, and dealing with Kelly and the production company’s PR team.

  Needless to say, I was dragging as I made my way off the plane. Luke, on the other hand, looked as fresh as a daisy and was cheerfully talking to the passenger who had recognized him immediately upon boarding. He’d happily signed autographs and talked to everybody, even going back into economy class after a flight attendant had told him there was a six-year-old in the back who was flying on his birthday. A family member had died and it hadn’t been avoidable.

  When the boy’s mom heard that Luke Cochran was on the flight, she’d begged the flight attendant to ask him to come back and say hi, and Luke, being Luke, had immediately undone his seatbelt and left first class to go find the little guy.

  Now he was talking to somebody who’d proudly told Luke that he, too, had graduated from Cocker County High School.

  They talked about the little town that had become something of a tourist attraction in the past couple of years. The man asked Luke if he ever attended the Regatta, an annual event in nearby Madison, featuring music, hydroplanes, a golf scramble, and a beauty pageant.

  I bit my lip to keep my snicker trapped inside.

  Luke must have sensed something because he shot me a threatening look. I could very clearly read his thoughts. Say nothing.

  Two years ago, after his mother and Bella had both begged and nagged him into it, he’d agreed to be a celebrity judge for the beauty pageant and maybe if he was in town for that, he could participate in the golf scramble as well.

  The golf scramble had gone well.

  The beauty pageant had been...interesting.

  Two girls had tripped walking down the runway and the winner had thrown herself at Luke when she was introduced, planting a huge, wet kiss on his mouth. A day later, she was checked into the hospital with a bad summer cold that had aggravated her asthma.

  Luke was sick three days later—and it lasted for almost two weeks. He’d been scheduled to start shooting the first Sword movie during that time and his first few days on the set had passed in a fevered, achy haze.

  I mimed zipping my lips shut as he answered the man’s question.

  I tried not to laugh at his description of the event—fantastic, so much fun...

  When his mother had called to pass on the invitation for the following year, Luke had said, “Tell them I died.”

  We were at the baggage claim, surrounded by almost a dozen people, when I checked the time and told him we needed to take care of getting the car. He was held up by a line of people wanting his autograph, so I just pointed to the conveyer belt and said, “Stay here. And watch for our bags.”

  I took some small comfort in the fact that the airport in Louisville was relatively small and all, but shut down after nine o’clock. He wasn’t likely to disappear to grab a bite to eat from the restaurant upstairs or go browsing in the stores.

  The tired-eyed desk attendant smiled at me with obligatory politeness. I understood how she felt so I didn’t think much of it.

  But her eyes suddenly sharpened when I passed her the credit card to pay for the car I’d rented.

  The card had my name on it.

  However, it also had Luke Cochran printed on it—something he’d insisted on after we’d been in New York City and he’d lost his card, but when he tried to use mine, they hadn’t let him. Never mind the fact that all the bills for this card went to his accountant.

  Now I carried a card with both my name and his—and yes, it had gotten me funny looks more than once.

  “Luke Cochran? Is that your husband?” she asked nonchalantly.

  “Ah...no. No, it’s not.” I smiled casually although I already knew where this was going.

  “Boyfriend, then. You know, there’s a movie star with that name. Grew up around here, too.” She swiped the card and looked back at me. But her gaze bounced to the side, one of those casual glances we do all the time as we take in our surroundings.

  And I knew the moment she saw him.

  “Son of a bitch,” she whispered excitedly. Her hand now determinedly clutched both the credit card and the keys she’d been about to pass to me. “Is that...you...that’s him, isn’t it?”

  “The one and only,” I said dryly.

  Her eyes whipped back to mine and she asked eagerly, “Are you like...his girlfriend?”

  I wish. With an ease born out of practice, I smiled and shook my head. “I’m his assistant.”

  “Oh.” She deflated a little, then immediately perked back up. “Can I meet him?”

  I looked behind me and saw that the crowd around Luke was clearing as the conveyer belt started to move. “Can you give me a few minutes?” I asked.

  “I’ll give you forever!” she promised and hurried through the rest of the rental process.

  Once I had the keys, I moved over to rejoin Luke. His eyes landed on me and he playfully said, “And here I was thinking you’d abandoned me.”

  “You couldn’t make it without me.” I passed over the keys, knowing that he preferred to drive when he was at home.

  “You and I know it,” he said agreeably as he signed the last autograph.

  I spied our suitcases as they made their way back down the belt and glanced at him. “You were supposed to be watching for them.”

  “I was busy,” he said sheepishly.

  “I noticed.” But I couldn’t be irritated. Luke was one of those movie stars who genuinely adored his fans and went out of his way to make time to talk and chat with anybody who approached him.

  After so many years in Hollywood, I knew there were several different shades of movie star. Some, like Luke, absolutely thrived while talking to his fans and fellow movie lovers.

  Others acted like it was a chore just to smile for the camera if they weren’t on set.

  It was just one of the many reasons to adore the big, oblivious bastard.

  And I didn’t need any more reasons to do that.

  Brushing the thoughts away, I gestured at the rental car counter. “Got a minute to say hi?”

  Chapter Four

  Luke

  SABRINA KNEW JUST WHAT I liked and had arranged for a low-slung, sweet Porsche 911 painted a brilliant shade of murder red. Our luggage barely fit and we had to make use of the interior space as well, but it worked. It helped that she’d arranged for the bulk of my wardrobe to be sent on to New York, something I never would have thought to do.

  As I took the Watterson and headed toward the east-end bridge, I couldn’t help but grin at how the car handled—like a dream.

  Breaking free of the pack of cars that
had kept me trapped for the past few miles, I punched the gas and opened up the powerful engine.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Sabrina pass a hand over her eyes and I heard her mumbling under her breath.

  “What was that?”

  “I wasn’t talking to you, you lunatic,” she said promptly. “I’m talking to God.”

  I laughed, unable to stop myself. “Why?”

  “Because I do it every time I get in a car with you. I’m lucky you haven’t given me a heart attack.” As soon as she said it, she straightened and reached over, touching her fingers to the back of my hand where it rested on the gearshift. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “Ina...it’s fine.” I slowed down a bit and moved out of the fast lane. “Seriously, though, it’s not that bad, is it?”

  She didn’t answer. From the corner of my eye, I saw her place two fingers on her wrist. “I wonder if a rapid heartbeat is an indicator of something here. Maybe I should get a work-up before getting back in the car with you. If nothing else, I think you’re giving me anxiety.”

  “You’re funny.”

  “You’re a lunatic,” she said without pause.

  The signs for the toll bridge leading to Indiana loomed in front of us and soon we were in the short tunnel that took us under one of the stony hills of east Louisville.

  Earlier it had been Sabrina’s turn to pray.

  Now it was mine.

  I hated enclosed spaces and this tunnel, dug into earth and stone, buried under tons of dirt, was my idea of a nightmare. We were only in it for a few seconds, then we were speeding on our way to the bridge.

  “Don’t forget to slow down,” Sabrina said warningly as we crossed the bridge into Indiana. “You got a ticket last time. Those Indiana State Police don’t mess around with people speeding on the highway.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “How likely am I to get a ticket two trips in a row?”

  Shaking off her concern, I cut around a slow-moving van.

  Almost immediately I saw the cop.

  There wasn’t any time to slow down, and predictably, the red and blue lights flashed on. Sabrina broke out into a laugh and, despite my irritation, the sound of it made me smile.

  “Stop,” I told her as I pulled over to the shoulder, the state trooper’s car close behind me.

  She was still snickering as she got the rental agreement out of the glovebox.

  I pulled my California-issued driver’s license from my wallet just as the trooper knocked on my window. He was a big guy, maybe even taller than me, and as I rolled the window down, he bent forward, bracing one hand on the roof of the car.

  “In a hurry?” he asked, accepting my license and the rental agreement without looking at me.

  “No, sir. Just didn’t realize how fast I was going,” I said.

  “You were going over ninety and you didn’t realize you were driving fast?” he asked. “What...”

  He stopped speaking.

  Tension crept up my spine and he bent back over the car, studying me. “You’re Luke Cochran.”

  “That’s what it says on my license,” I told him.

  “The movie star. The one from...is it Madison?”

  “Close,” I said with a polite smile. Maybe I could talk my way out of this one. “Ulysses...it’s about thirty minutes from Madison, over in Cocker County.”

  “I’ll be damned,” he muttered under his breath.

  I was starting to feel a little better. He probably wasn’t going to write me a ticket.

  Then Sabrina reached over and patted my hand. “Just think, Luke. You’re developing a pattern here...this will make the third ticket for you in less than six months. You should really be more careful.”

  I gaped at her. She gave me a cheeky smile then grabbed her purse, digging through the cavernous bag and whistling under her breath.

  “Did she say this was your third ticket in six months?” the trooper asked.

  The warmth had faded from his voice.

  Still, I tried. “Actually, right now it’s only two.”

  “And this will be the third,” he said.

  I almost said, If you insist on writing it.

  But, judging by the look on his face, I decided not to push my luck. It was pretty clear he was going to insist.

  Next to me, Sabrina continued to laugh quietly.

  Once the ticket had been handed over and the state trooper was on his way back to his vehicle, I gave Sabrina a dark look. It only made her laugh harder.

  “Are you proud of yourself?” I asked.

  “Nah. Just amused.” She hesitated a second, then added, “Very, very amused.”

  A smile flirted with her lips.

  In the dim light coming in through the windows, I could just barely make out that smirk.

  Abruptly, and with no conscious thought to the action, I reached across the console and stroked my thumb over the full lower curve of her bottom lip.

  Her eyes widened.

  I pulled my hand back and concentrated on the road as I put the car into drive. “I’m glad to know I amuse you.”

  As I pulled back onto the highway, only one thought was clear in the chaos of my head.

  Sabrina.

  She had been working for me for years. She’d become my best friend and I couldn’t imagine not having her in my life.

  I’d noticed how sexy she was the day she’d appeared on my doorstep for our interview. But she soon turned into an organizational steamroller and thoughts about her mouth and those curves had faded into the background as she took control and made my messy life so much easier. I didn’t think I’d indulged in even a simple fantasy that centered around Sabrina, or her sexy mouth.

  Somehow, I had a weird feeling that was about to change. That sexy, top-heavy curve of it...and how damn soft her lower lip had felt as I brushed my thumb over it.

  My cock stirred and I thought sourly, Down, boy. That’s a bad, bad idea.

  My cock, though, had a mind of its own.

  I spent the rest of the drive trying to convince myself I didn’t need to further explore my sudden revelation about Sabrina’s mouth. I already had the sensory memory of her soft skin embedded in my mind. Now I knew how soft her mouth felt, too.

  And it wasn’t enough.

  Chapter Five

  Sabrina

  I’D RELIVED THOSE FEW seconds over in my head what felt like a thousand times already.

  At that light, almost casual touch, my nipples had peaked and my heart had started to race.

  Now, after an hour had passed, I was being ushered into the large family home where Luke’s mother and his youngest sibling still lived.

  My heart was still racing.

  Just one look at him made it thump so hard against my chest that it almost hurt.

  “Sabrina, are you feeling all right?” Joanne Cochran peered at me, concern in her blue eyes. “You’re looking flushed.”

  “I’m fine,” I said, managing not to stammer. I would have tried to laugh, but it would have come out forced. “I’m just ready to be out of vehicles—first the airplane, then the long drive here. I guess I just need some fresh air.”

  “I can imagine.” She shook her head. “I hate to fly, but you already know that.”

  I grinned at her. Luke had only been able to coax her into overcoming that fear a few times in the past few years. She told us each time that she’d be driving out for her next visit. So far, she hadn’t done it.

  “Come on. Let’s get you something to eat and drink so you can settle in and get some sleep.”

  She hooked her arm through mine and left Luke to trail along behind us.

  “Gee, Mom. I think you enjoy seeing Sabrina more than me.” Luke sounded amused.

  “Of course, I do,” Joanna said in a breezy voice. “She doesn’t give me attitude like you do.”

  She glanced over at me with a wink.

  Once we were in the brightly lit, welcoming kitchen, she let go of my arm a
nd moved over to the refrigerator. “I made lemonade and I’ve got some chicken salad in here, or I can just get you some cheese and fruit.”

  “Sit down, Mom,” Luke said, coming around and cutting her off. “I can handle making myself something.”

  “It’s not just for you,” she said tartly.

  He rolled his eyes. “I can get Sabrina something, too. Sit down. You know, you didn’t even have to wait up. If you’re tired—”

  “I know when and how to put myself to bed, Luke,” she said mildly. “But I will sit. I don’t mind having any of my boys waiting on me.”

  She smiled at me and waved me onto the stool across from hers. We sat at the big kitchen island, topped with granite so highly polished, it could have been used as a mirror.

  “Still mad at them about the redesign?” I asked. Two years ago when London graduated from college, the summer before she started medical school, two of her brothers, Luke and Chris, had sent her and her mother off for a three-month tour of the United Kingdom. When Joanne and London returned, it was to discover that her kids had all gone in to redecorate the big house where they’d grown up.

  The stone-and-log building itself was in excellent condition, built by their paternal grandfather when he married their grandmother. Its design had been ahead of its time and still looked modern, despite being close to sixty years old. But the inside was dated and almost everything could use an upgrade. Joanne had been reluctant to go along with the idea, but then London had found her Pinterest page—there were thousands of pinned pictures, all of them labeled maybe.

  The Cochran kids decided as a unit that their mother wanted to remodel, but for some reason wouldn’t let the kids take care of it.

  So they’d done it themselves.

  She’d pretended to be mad, but the lure of the kitchen had been too hard for the amateur gourmet to resist. She still liked to tease them about it, though.

  She gave Luke an arch look. “Sometimes, I worry that if I decide to go visit London and disappear for a few days, I’ll come back to an entirely different house.”

  “If I came home and found my kitchen looking like this, I’d do backflips,” I told her.

 

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