Page 10 of Cocky Choices: Zoe Cocker

“I’m aware of this hotel’s quality. It’s why I’m staying here. And why my father’s retirement is being held in their hall. My standards are exceptionally high.”

Flummoxed, I hurry to say, “I’m sure they are! I didn’t mean to imply they weren’t.”

He considers me for a moment, and our gazes remain locked. He’s ridiculously good looking, isn’t he? Just enough stubble to be rugged but not unkempt, and though I’m not a connoisseur of suits by anyone’s imagination,hislooks expensive and may have been tailored, it fits so well. “Can I pet your pussy?”

I blink. “Excuse me?”

“Your cat.”

“Oh! Yes, of course.” Unzipping the backpack, I hold it open to Caleb Astor III. “This is Ralphie.”

“Cute.”

“He’s a supermodel! His full name is Ralphie Rooster,” I explain as Caleb reaches in to pet him, “but I just call himRALPHIE!” I shout as my cat springs out of the backpack and latches himself onto a beautiful wooden column. “Get down from there!” Ralphie vaults and lands on the stairs, looking around like he’s plotting his next leap. We race forward but he dives out of reach, sprinting between the legs of patrons. Around the foyer we chase my cat until I finally remember the treats I always keep zipped up in my pack. To him up on a lamp shade, I hold them out and coo, “Here Ralphie, what do I have? Look at this! Yum yum yum! Come on baby.” He gracefully drops to the floor and strolls over to me like he lives here and has all the time in the world. I let him enjoy a bite before scooping the fluffy little menace up and tucking him into my pack. “Works every time.”

Caleb asks, “He’s done this before?”

“Never.”

He cocks his head like he doesn’t understand me, and grins, “Zoe…Cocker, was it?”

Lifting up my backpack, I slide on the straps, making sure it’s secure so that Ralphie is comfortable. “That’s me.”

“Any relation to the Falcon’s quarterback?”

“Eric is my cousin.”

“Then the rockstar must be…”

“Gabriel is also my cousin.” I’m aware they’ve been linked in news articles, both very high-profile. As is Gabriel’s twin who followed their father into politics so I fill in the blanks for him by adding, “Elijah Cocker, too, yes.”

“You’ve been asked this before.”

“We’re pretty well known in Atlanta.”

“Huh,” my new employer nods, sizing me up in a new way. “What is the name of your business?”

“Florist Shop.”

He stares at me, silent a moment. “Florist Shop?”

“I wanted to be found.”

“I see,” he smiles. “Smart.”

Scooping up my hair that fell out of its messy bun during the chase, I tame it into a high ponytail while confessing, “I can’t take credit. That was the idea of my other cousin, Ethan. He’s a computer genius so…”

“Tight family?”

“Very tight.”

“Huh,” Caleb says again as he heads for the elevator. “I’ll be in touch.”

My focus is on him until the doors whoosh closed. He smirks at me right before they do, and my heart pounds. Caught.

I wonder what his family is like. Maybe the same? Five hundred guests for a retirement party, that’s an incredible number. I don’t remember any Astors from school, or from any stories that my own family — extended and otherwise — have told about their lives in Atlanta.

Carefully I gather fallen, dead leaves, and shove them into the old arrangement’s vase, lifting and hauling it toward the exit. I give a grateful smile to the security guard, “Thank you for helping me.”

---