Page 54 of Cocky Choices: Zoe Cocker

“What do you mean?”

“When you really want me to kiss you — when it’s for real — then and only then I’ll do it. And I won’t want to stop there.”

Zoe nods slowly, her cheeks flushing a pretty pink. “I think I understand. At least, I’m trying to,” she replies, sadness in her voice tugging at my heart.

She’s almost too sweet. It’s a delicate dance we’re doing, and I feel tonight the stakes have risen. I want to protect her. From me? Maybe. I want to shield her from the complications that come with crossing that line. But as I look into her eyes, I can’t help but wonder if I’m also protecting myself from something I secretly crave.

“Let’s just take our time,” I suggest gently, reaching out to hold her hand. “We have all the time in the world.” Our fingers lace. “We don’t need to rush anything.”

She smiles faintly, a mix of understanding and disappointment.

“Okay,” Zoe says softly, her voice shaky, “I can wait.” Letting go of my hands she whispers, “I’m a little tired, Caleb.”

Knowing it’s her attempt to escape the awkwardness, I offer a quick and polite, “I should get going. We didn’t talk much about the wedding, though.”

“Maybe tomorrow?”

“How about I take you to lunch?” I rub my leg. “And Ralphie can stay here.”

This earns me a sweet laugh from my fiancé, and her eyes brighten. “I’m really sorry he did that!”

With meaning, I tell her, “Me too.”

Zoe gazes up at me, and gives a little nod. “If he hadn’t, maybe things would be different right now.”

“They’d be very different. But I think it’s…wise that we paused things.”

Seemingly unconvinced she offers a smile that doesn’t reach her beautiful eyes. “Yes…wise.”

As we transition into making plans for lunch tomorrow, I can’t help but stare at her. I know this arrangement is practical, but beneath the surface, there’s a bubbling tension that neither of us can ignore. And as much as I want to keep things simple, I can’t shake the feeling that our marriage of convenience might be on the brink of becoming something more complicated — something I’m not sure I’m ready for.

As she walks to the door, Zoe asks, “When is the retirement dinner again?”

“Saturday.”

She yelps, “What?!”

“I mentioned that.”

“I can’t meet you for lunch. Our wedding plans will have to wait. I’m so sorry, Caleb. I have a lot of work to do!”

“Do you want to come by the hotel and see the space he’s rented?”

“Yes,” she nods, fear in her eyes. “Yes! I must see the space. What time? Earlier the better.”

“Ten o’clock?”

Blinking rapidly as she considers it, Zoe hurries me to the door. “Yes, that’ll do just fine. Thank you. I’ll meet you in the front of the hotel, beside my flower arrangement at ten.”

“Perfect,” I reply.

“Uh huh,” she murmurs, mind clearly on the approaching event.

“Goodnight, Zoe.”

Opening the door, she practically shoos me out. “Drive safe, Caleb.” As the door closes I hear her muttering, “Saturday! How am I going to…”

I hesitate and, after a moment, I wrap on the door. She opens it, surprised.

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