Page 4 of Cocky Secrets

What did I just say?!

I let that pour from my parted lips. Never, ever, in my whole life have I asked a stranger to pose for me. Much less one that made me feel this way.

His brows furrow. “Naked?”

Viola laughs, “Of course you’d go there, Bear.”

Bear?

His name isBear?

What kind of a name is that?

A nickname?

LikeHoney Badgerfor my dad? Is he in a motorcycle club, too? If he is, he must be from out of town because there are no others in our territory.

Was it given to him at birth?

“You’d be naked,” I answer cooly as if I usually paint naked people when in truth I never have. But always wanted to. “Of course youhaveto be naked.” I clear my throat and shrug. “It’s art.”

“Art, huh?”

“Yes.” I force boredom in my expression, as if it means nothing at all to me to be alone with this man when he’s naked and I’m armed solely with a paint brush and my arousal. “People have posed nude for artists since the dawn of time. Look at David for Michelangelo.” I am embarrassed to admit, and wouldn’t aloud, that I don’t know if David had been a real man or just perfection from the imagination of a great painter and sculptor. “To name an obvious example.”

Bear scrutinizes me, dropping his glance as ifI’mthe one who’s not wearing anything. “And where would we do this?”

My spirits slump, but I keep my chin high. I couldn’t take him home to paint, no matter how exquisite he is and how much I want to. We don’t allow outsiders in our home, living outside of the law as The Ciphers do.

Now what?

I lie, “Unfortunately my space isn’t large enough to paint you,” disappointment lacing my veins. It’s more than large enough, but too full of people who wouldn’t approve, not on any given unpredictable day.

He drags a hand through his chocolate hair, legs spread in a superhero stance. “Too bad.”

“Mmm,” I hum, turning for change and slipping the coins into my pocket as I tell Vi, “Say hello to Bobby and Billy Maefor me.” To thisBearperson I offer no smile. Is he here to buy something? He just stared at me through all of this.

As if reading my thoughts, he lifts a ceramic ladle holder to inspect, attention diverted as I pass him. Moments later the bells sing my impending exit.

“You could bring your paints and supplies tomyplace, Sage.”

I pause, golden hand gripping the slip of a silver handle, expression blasé even as excitement rushes into my blood. “Viola?”

“He’s safe,” she answers, knowing woman-to-woman what I mean. “Safer than pretty much any other man I’ve ever known.”

This turns my head. “Why?”

“He’s a policeman.”

Oh no no no nono!

Not a cop!

The Ciphers wouldn’t allow it.

I had a crush on a cop once.

They shot it down.

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