Cocky Secrets (Cocker Brothers #29)

8. Sage

EIGHT

Sage

T he smell of morning coffee wafts through the air as I sit by myself at the kitchen table, and take a sip. Dad walks in, a grin plastered across his face. There’s something about that look, a glint of mischief in his eyes, that makes my heart race with anticipation.

“Hey Sage,” he says, strong hands dropping onto the table, weight leaned on them, muscles huge from fighting and training, even at his age. “You’ll never guess what I found in town.”

I blink, curiosity piqued. “What?”

He glances around, making sure no one else is listening, then lowers his voice. “A used Harley. The owner’s letting me take it for a test ride today.”

My heart skips a beat. “You’re kidding!”

He stifles a grin, “But here’s the catch,” and adds, his voice dropping lower. “We can’t let your mom know. She’ll freak out if she finds out I’m taking you to test ride a bike.”

A mix of thrill and rebellion courses through me, overtaking disbelief. “I’m in.”

“We’ll sneak out.”

I can hardly keep my voice down I’m so excited. “Let’s do it! Just give me a minute to change and throw on my boots.”

I rush to my room, throwing on my favorite pair of faded jeans, violet halter and a leather jacket that’s been hanging in my closet forever. Tugging on my biker boots, I glance in the mirror, and can’t help but feel a surge of confidence.

I’m ready for this.

He thinks so, too!

When I return to the kitchen, my dad is already by the door, his motorcycle keys dangling from weathered fingers. “All set?” he asks, a conspiratorial smile playing on his face.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I grin, my heart racing at the thought of getting a Harley of my own. It might not be the one. Maybe this is the first in a series of motorcycles we’ll test drive, but that he’s defying Mom’s concerns and willing to try one out, for me, for what I need, that means the world!

We slip out of the house, careful not to make too much noise. But just as we’re heading for the garage, grass sneakily crunching under our boots, Sofia Sol and her children, Kenzie and Malakai, come around the corner, everyone curious about where we’re going.

“What’s up?” Soph asks.

Dad grunts, “Uh…”

“Just riding into town for the fun of it,” I tell her, trying to sound casual. It’s not entirely a lie. It’ll be fun to ride into town with my badass father. So what if the purpose of the trip, also fun, isn’t entirely divulged? Or at all sanctioned by my other parent. So what if she’ll be furious? So what if we have to hide it?! We’re doing it, and that’s all that matters to me. Stop asking questions, Soph!

Malakai frowns, his voice squeaky young and devilishly curious, “You going with Honey Badger?”

“My dad and I are going for a ride, yeah,” I grate, irritated by the way Malakai’s looking at me.

“You never do that.”

“I have, too! You just weren’t born yet.”

“You’re dumb.”

I stoop to his level. “You’re dumber.”

Soph mutters, “Gawd, Sage. How old are you again?”

“Shut it,” I mutter, as Dad chuckles, using the diversion of our little spat to keep attention off of our true intention. He’s suddenly doing a supreme job of acting like this is no big deal, tossing his keys in the air, standing next to me like we’re not in a rush. Like this isn’t a sneaky little mission of our own.

Beautiful Kenzie flicks her brother’s nose. “You’re just nosy.”

“You’re nosy!” He tries to flick her back but she weaves and dodges him.

“Bye!” I smile, speeding up our exit before anyone else finds us. Like Mom.

In the garage, Atlas is at the tool bench, wearing his stained jeans, the ones he wears when he repairs the bikes. His hair is in a braid to stay out of his way, and he looks over his shoulder at our unexpected approach. I’m never in here, so this raises his eyebrow. “What’s up?”

“Taking your sister into town for the fun of it,” Dad grunts, heading for his hog. “Toss me a helmet.” Atlas grabs one from the long line of hanging nails on which the extras live. He throws it hard at Dad who easily catches it, commenting, “Strong.”

My brother’s eyes shine with pride at our father’s rare compliment. “Thanks, Dad.” Then Atlas walks to his bike, grabs the helmet resting on its right handle and moves to put it on.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Coming with you.”

“No!”

Atlas stares at me, lowers the helmet, shifts his focus to Dad. “What the fuck.”

“It’s just me and your sister,” Dad grunts. “I hung out with you for a week.”

“That wasn’t a hang out. That was a mission.”

“Same thing to me. I haven’t seen her much. This is dad and daughter time.”

I beam, but when Atlas sneers, “Awww. How sweet,” I flip him off and take the helmet from our father. “I’m going to interpret that middle finger as you love me,” Atlas grins.

“If you like lying to yourself,” I wink.

He laughs, and watches as Dad mounts his beat-up black Harley, waiting for me to get on back, kicking down the foot rests for me. I climb on and realize it’s been years since I was on the back of a motorcycle. Fourteen years since I’ve driven one myself. The wild anticipation of having one of my own rises, but I keep it to myself.

“If your mother asks where we are, tell her what I told you.”

Atlas tilts his head at Dad. “Why wouldn’t I? Wait…what are you really up to?”

“Nothing. Just what I said.”

“Are you lying to me, Dad?”

“Tell your mother we rode into town for fun.”

“Okay, now you’ve got me suspicious.”

Dad shouts, “Tell her what I said!”

Atlas throws up his hands. “Okay! Okay!”

“And make it believable! You know how to keep secrets. Don’t think I’ve forgotten that.”

Oh boy, does that shut Atlas up, and his face goes beet-red too. “Got it.”

We ride out of there, passing the plantation just as Denita starts to head inside from where she was enjoying her morning coffee on the front porch. She calls after us, “Where are you two off to?”

I shout, “Just driving around for fun. No big deal.”

She frowns, because Malakai was right.

I never do this.

When we’re out of earshot, Dad hits the electric gate opener attached to his handlebars, and says over the sound of the engine, “No big deal sounded suspicious.”

“I’m not good at lying!”

“That’s good,” he grunts.

Frowning, not sure I agree with him, I tighten my grip around his body, lean my helmeted head against his leather jacket that reads The Ciphers in Old English font, and hang on for what is sure to be riding well past the speed limit, and on a beautiful sunny day. “We should do this more often, Dad!”

“We should.”

“Only without the lying.”

He laughs, and off we go. But when we drive through and past our home of South Vacherie, heading into North Vacherie, I ask over the rushing wind, “Where are we going? Do you need to look at an address?”

“I know this place like the back of my hand, Sage. Memorized the address. Wasn’t tough. Been driving these streets since long before you were born!”

I smile to myself, feeling silly for even questioning him. “Sorry, Dad.”

“I’m smarter than I look.”

“You’re very smart!” I give his waist a squeeze, and shout over the roar, “Just quiet.”

“I say what needs to be said.”

He turns onto a street with a name I recognize, one I read over and over, and traced with my fingertips into the wee hours of the night. My heart starts pounding in shock as I read the numbers painted on sidewalks, counting down like a ticking time bomb. I nearly jump off the seat as Dad slows, then stops, in front of the address I also have memorized. Out of an open garage, the one with a beautiful burgundy Harley Davidson waiting inside it, comes the owner, wearing a grease-striped white T-shirt and jeans that fit him like they love him.

Friendly eyes bronzed by sunlight suddenly cloud over as Bear recognizes the girl on the back of the bike.

The one who never showed up. The one who left him high and dry, waiting for a day of painting he’d probably been looking forward to, but which never happened. The girl who made him buy two canvases, who acted all flirty and cocky but then, like she never existed, vanished.

This girl.

Me.

I shake my head, silently pleading, Please, please, please, don’t say you know me!