Page 59 of Cocky Choices: Zoe Cocker

“I’m joking! Don’t worry. I’m only kidding,” Caleb smirks, motioning to me with his chin. “He jabbed. I threw a barb back.”

With a frown, Zoe whispers, “I’m not sure I like that type of humor.”

Not when it comes to her flowers. For all his money and connections, he will never understand the passion and talent Zoe pours into her work. I just wish I could convince her of that truth.

Caleb reaches out and takes her hand in front of me, making me want to hurl myself at him, grab her, throw her over my shoulder and get out of here.

“Zoe,” he says, “I’m sorry.”

She shakes her head like she’s trying to clear it. “It’s okay.”

“You have brothers, right? Don’t they fight like this?”

“No.”

“You don’t dance around an answer, do you?”

“Caleb,” Zoe begins, gaze rising to lock with his. “I really want this event to be special for your father. I’m going to design centerpieces for the tables that will make your heart swell.”

“I can’t wait.”

“Really?”

“Really. God, you’re so innocent, aren’t you?” A grin flashes on him, and I want to punch it off his face so bad I have a metallic taste in my mouth. He leans in to kiss her, and the next thing I know he’s on the floor.

“What the fuck?” Caleb snarls, rubbing his cheek.

Zoe chokes out, “Tom!”

And my knuckles hurt.

But my head?

Clear as shined glass.

Until I hear from behind me, “What in Heaven’s name?” and turn to see a silver-haired suit glaring at the scene.

Caleb mutters, “Hey Dad.”

TWENTY-FIVE

Zoe

Ichoke, “You’re Caleb’s father?”

“Who are you?” he bellows, “What is going on here?!”

The air in the echoing event hall is thick with tension, the kind that clings to your skin, causing the wrong kind of goosebumps.

Tom’s punch still reverberates in all of our cells, hitting different triggers, and I now stand frozen, breath stuck in my throat as my gaze darts from Tom to Caleb then to his father who is glaring at all three of us like he’s never seen anything more to his disliking.

Caleb snaps, “Are you out of your mind?” wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes stormy as he stands up.

Mr. Astor focuses his fury at Tom, “You assaulted my son! I’m calling the police!” pulling out his phone, expression cold as ice.

With a rush of panic I step closer to him. “Don’t do it!” My plea echoed off the high ceilings and in an instant all eyes are on me. “Tom didn’t mean to hit him!”

“Yes, I did, Zoe.”

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