Joe and I have been making out, cloaked in the waning golden light of sunset, my hands inside his coat, his on my ass. We just arrived at this adorable one-bedroom cabin we rented for a night, vintage 1886 and showing it, near sleepy Flat Shoals, Georgia. His car’s hood is still warm and I’m searching his hypnotically innocent green eyes while masking my inner smile as he murmurs against my lips, “Hannah, I have to fuck you.”

Well okay…huh.

I expected shyness.

A little hesitation.

I know I scare him.

It was obvious on our past dates. He was so cute, asking for advice from his friends on where to take me, a confession he made after date one went well. I thought it was mind-bendingly sweet how honest he was about that. So eager and thrilled to be with me. And when we kissed, though he needed a breath mint, the kiss made him so excited…I agreed to date two.

I needed a little hope and he had plenty.

Right now I’m opening up, ripping my guard down, with the dream that his kindness will help me stop being so jaded. I’ve never dated someone as nice before. It’s an extremely refreshing change to not play detective and really be here with him knowing he has no ulterior motive.

The thing is, and few people seem to want to admit this, but it is incredibly difficult growing up in the public eye.

We’ve all seen actors who became famous as children and then as time passed, they deteriorated into addiction, multiple failed relationships, became hermits. I understand them in a way I never wanted to be able to, had I a choice in what happened to me when I was six. The inevitable snowball effect that event had on the years after my father got elected made us remain in the public eye, more so than anyone in the infamous Cocker family. Dad and I get hounded to this day. The media loves to watch us, to see what became of the father and daughter who didn’t know each other until tragedy hit.

The problem with fame is that many view it as power, which everyone wants, so there are myriad ways bad people attempt to snake into your life for their own gains, regardless of how it could hurt you.

Fame helps my Dad get things done in Washington because it opens more doors and no one wants him on their bad side. But I’m a private person with a fear of cameras.

I can trust any of my cousins with my life, but we’re so insulated, the seventeen of us, with very few friends outside of each other. We have to be this way.

Everyone wants a piece of the Cocker tribe.

It’s why we’re so protective of each other.

My dad said he and his brothers were the same way. They didn’t let any woman near the family until she deserved it, to ensure she didn’t have ulterior motives and her love was real.

He has reminded me so many times I could gag if I hear it again. But he needed to give me a warning that I must be careful who I choose as my forever, because he’s been right. I’ve been hurt. I’ve also hurt people. That’s what your teens and twenties are about, right? Flailing around?

But now I’m twenty-eight and thirty is around the corner. I’m not one of those women who doesn’t see herself as a mother. Hell no. I want to be one so badly I can feel my ovaries whispering to me every time I see a little baby. Especially baby girls. I was raised with twin brothers, almost seven years younger than me and let me tell you, screw going through that hell again.

I want a little girl I can teach to become a woman.

My Grandma Nance — her name is Nancy but we kids all shortened it many years ago — she’s the only one I’ve told. I shared my secret dream when I was eighteen and she and I were making her fresh ginger ale, alone in her kitchen, everyone outside in the backyard. She was peeling the skin from the fresh roots, staring wistfully out the window. “I love my boys, Hannah. Don’t get me wrong. But six boys and no girls almost did me in. That’s why I was so happy when you and Emma came along. God finally granted me little sweethearts in my grandchildren, to take shopping and braid hair and all that frilly stuff I was never able to do with my boys!”

I got up the nerve to confess, “I want that, too, but don’t tell anyone.”

She held my eyes and set the peeler down, her hand flattening on the counter to ask, “Now why not? It’s nothing to be ashamed of to want to be a mother.”

“Everyone says you need a career, Grandma Nance, but I think being a mom is better.”

She’d gazed at me, knowing it was partially because I missed my own mother that I felt this way. Every day I miss her.

But finding someone who thrills me enough to commit to for life? I mean, what? How is that even possible?

But I want to try.

And so I’m here.

With a guy who’s very nice.

Nice guys make good fathers, don’t they?

So, Joe Laroby, I have to fuck you, too.

“Say it again,” I whisper, eyelashes dropping to his parted lips. They’re a little moist, just like mine.

Ahem.

Our eyes lock and he murmurs, “I have to fuck you, Hannah.”

“Well, since you put it that way.”

Oh my God, he just picked me up! I love it when they carry me! We head to the cabin, and he’s making this look easy…for about seven feet of distance. Then he grunts, “This is harder than it looks on T.V.”

Okay.

Now that just makes a girl feel fat.

I climb down his tree while covertly checking the girth of my thighs. Our entwining fingers catch my attention since his are so much warmer than mine, as our hastened footsteps creak across the sun-faded porch.

Inside, stroking my arms for warmth, I gaze at the darkened fireplace, and turn to mention to Joe how nice it would be to have a fire while we’re rocking the bed to the ground, but discover he’s already unbuttoning his shirt without ceremony.

“What are you doing undressing yourself? No no no. Let me.” Crossing on a laugh, I click open his buttons.

God, I love first times.

That moment when you’re on the edge of something that just might be amazing, and everything is still perfect. The first kisses trailing everywhere. The exploring of fingers and tongues. The pressure of skin on skin with no clothing to come between you. I crave it all.

Joe holds my fingers, stopping them from undoing the last button. “I have a confession to make.”

“Okay…”

“I haven’t been with many women.”

My eyebrows are twitching. Does he really think this is a surprise to me?

No guy is this sweet-hearted when he’s raked through half the city.

It’s what I like about him.

It’s why I have hope.

It’s why I’m here, despite the still prevalent need for a breath mint.

So to help him out, I say a bold-faced lie. “I haven’t been with anyone for a year.”

Or actually last month when an ex and I spent a weekend together for the hell of it, never coming up for air except to eat. A girl has needs and sometimes that means revisiting things that should have stayed dead. My ex smelled funny. I have a thing with scents. Chemistry, I guess.

Joe’s solitary dimple appears. “Then let’s do this.”

My mouth is crushed in a kiss that takes us, pulling off our clothes, into the bedroom. He lays me down and shocks the hell out of me by whipping my jeans down with the panties still in them. We start laughing as we wrestle our socks off.

He pulls out a condom, muttering, “I brought this,” and adds, as if he didn’t want to assume anything, “You know, just in case.” He slips it onto a cock that I expected to be a little thicker considering he’s six three.

But that’s fine.

I think.

Whoa!

As he starts penetrating me as quickly as if he’s never done this before, I hide my alarm with a hasty murmur, “Go slower, Joe! Give me a second here,”

Have there been any women?

He reins it back, trembling, “That good?”

“Yes. Nice and slow at first. Warm me up.”

Ever hear of foreplay?

He thrusts a little and mumbles, “I’m not going to be able to last long.”

“We have all night to do it again,” I smile, stroking his head.

It’s over less than thirty seconds after he said that. Trying not to sigh, I stare at the ceiling as he kisses my shoulder.

Sigh.

Oops.

I don’t think he heard me, though.

He’s panting too hard.

As Joe ambles, naked, across creaking floorboards to throw the condom away in the bathroom, he slams his head on the doorframe. It’s a solid four inches shorter than he is.

He grabs his blonde head and barks, “OW!” small ass jiggling as he steps back, groaning, “Fuck!”

I have to cover my laughter to ask, “Are you okay?”

“Hit my head!” Staggering, he casts a hasty backward glance to stone-faced me.

“Oh no! Poor thing.”

Nodding to himself, satisfied I’m still attracted to him, he heads into the bathroom.

I’m hiding my laughter like a pro from years of being around my brothers and male cousins. You can’t laugh at them unless you want to rile them up or get them back for being jerks. They get so angry it’s ridiculous. And they rarely forget.

Alone and cuddled under the covers, I picture the next time Joe and I will have sex tonight and how much better it will be when I’m able to give him a lesson or two. I think he’s a virgin.

Or he was.

My smiling gaze drifts outside to the view of a forest lush from Georgia rainstorms. The sun is a memory now and while I can’t see the stars from here I know they’re growing in numbers.

So peaceful to be away from the city for a change. And this blanket is the perfect kind of heavy. This was such a great idea, and while that was less than amazing sex, I know with a little training he’ll get better. He’s just excited and inexperienced and no one can fault him for that.

As long as he’s good to me, I can be patient.

Rubbing his head, Joe returns. “Now we can eat.”

“Hungry?”

“I’m starving, but I had to fuck you. Couldn’t think of anything else. Now I can focus on the meal.”

My laugh is as honest as that statement. “You said you went shopping. What’d you bring?”

“Salmon, brussel sprouts, potatoes.”

“I love all of those!”

“I know,” he smirks, pleased with himself and with my reaction. “I paid attention.”

As he heads away I can’t help but stare after him. “No guy’s ever cooked for me,” I whisper quietly so that he can’t hear me.

“You coming?” Joe calls out.

Burrowing under the covers I ask, “Is it okay if I just lie here a minute?”

Laughing from the kitchen he gives me a promise he will keep, “You stay there and rest up. We won’t be sleeping much tonight. And don’t worry, I’ll be better the second time.”

And he kept that promise…