ELIZABETH

I frown, “Really? A couple times?” and discreetly dodge the question by lifting my chin and carrying my cup to the condiments counter where I pretend to be engrossed in choosing the right lid, shaking cinnamon inside, and tugging the cap into place.

Janet followed me and the silence is palpable.

Sipping our wake-me-ups, she and I exit the shop into the golden light of early morning as it occurs to me I won’t be seeing Caden until tomorrow at the earliest. This softens the space between my shoulders.

I won’t have to battle that persistently defiant guy until then, thank God. Or hide how many times I want to stare at him.

Relieved I exhale, “What a beautiful day.”

Janet heads for her car, blowing into the cup. “Same weather as yesterday and the day before.”

Not going to reply to that either.

Sliding into my Audi, I set the steaming mocha latte securely in its rubber holder, and hit my favorite playlist. Classical music explodes from top-of-the-line speakers as though I were playing AC/DC with way too much coke up my nose.

Chuckling to myself at the idea I’d ever snort anything other than sarcasm, I screech out of the parking lot with a grin spread up from my soul despite the traffic, which always sucks balls.

Beethoven is best enjoyed at full blast.

I know how to navigate this baby like there’s nobody on the road, so fuck ‘em. If I could hear the cars honking at me, I might feel bad. But not today. Ode To Joy silences all but Ludwig’s absolute genius.

A couple blocks from the hospital I’m feeling like a billion dollars when on the other side of the double yellow line, driving in the same direction I am, a car pulls alongside of me. I glance over because there is not supposed to be a vehicle going that direction on my left, and see the flashing blue lights above Atlanta P.D.’s trademark red stripe and navy blue paint job. “Oh shit.”

A very handsome police officer swirls his finger in a circle motioning for me to notice the siren and pull over two minutes ago.

It takes some maneuvering but I manage to make it to the shoulder, all the while cussing under my breath.

I wait for him to saunter to my window. Rolling it down, I look up at a uniform who can’t be more than 23—is that even possible?—sporting a stern I’m-going-to-spank-you look. This guy is hot.

“Something wrong, officer?”

“No, nothing at all.”

“Sarcasm noted.”

He plants hands on my window frame, leans down with his ass sticking out. This wins him several honks.

It is very hard not to smile as he ignores his admirers to demand, “Do you have any idea how fast you were going?”

“Under the speed limit?”

“Nice try.” He motions to my dashboard with just his left index finger, hands still gripping my open window. “License and registration.”

With a loud sigh I dig inside my wallet, hand him my Georgia license complete with translucent peaches and a smile I’m proud I snuck in before the DMV employee succeeded in immortalizing my resting-bitch face.

“Here.” Leaning far over, I snag the folded registration paper from my glove compartment and slam it shut. “This what you’re looking for?”

“Watch the attitude!” With his rear still offered to a thankful audience, the cop’s gorgeous eyelashes flicker back-and-forth as he reads my documents. I wish I had lashes like his. He straightens up to pull out his tickets and pauses as a radio crackles, “Cocker, we’ve got a 211, what’s your 20?”

Before they have a chance to finish, he’s overlapped with, “Wherever you need me to be.”

They rattle off a location nearby. This must be his normal route, or jurisdiction, or whatever the fuck they call it. He pushes my documents in my face.

“You lucked out.”

“Your last name is Cocker?”

He pauses, lifts an eyebrow. “Depends on why you’re asking.”

Rolling my eyes I mutter, “Of course you’re related to him.”

The cop smirks, “Who?”

“Never mind. What’s your name?”

“Does it look like I have time to answer your questions? Didn’t you just hear them call me in for something more important than your curiosity? You got out of a speeding ticket. Consider yourself charmed. Now drive like a normal person to wherever it is you were going.”

He strolls off.

In my side mirror I watch him, admiring how that uniform hugs his butt.

Yep, they’re related.

Same narrow hips, round butt, cocky swagger and matching attitude.

Dammit.

As I merge with traffic, I’m thinking of the kinds of ways they could be related.

Brother? Maybe.

Cousin? Also possible.

“I’ll ask him as soon as I see him,” I hear myself say aloud.

My jaw drops, appalled.

“Oh yeah, that’s a great idea. Next thing you know, you’ll be wondering what brand of underwear he wears. Keep it impersonal, Elizabeth! And stop talking to yourself in third person!”

My parking spot waits for me, empty and comforting.

It’s all mine.

This is everything I need.

Rising up I smile at the stunning fortress I call home, and hit the fob to lock my Audi.

That place where I lay my head when I’ve no other choice, is nothing compared to this.

Let’s see what today brings.