Illicit acollection, p.85
Illicit: A Contemporary Romance Collection, page 85
"Yes. It's a boy." Aimee rolled her eyes at her husband. "Of course, Manuel is over the moon. I don't care as long as he gets out of me—soon."
"It doesn't matter to me either," Manuel said, giving her a wink. "As long as he's healthy, I'm happy. But you've got to admit, the men are outnumbered in this family. We could use a little help to even out the team." She'd gone and married a fellow attorney. Although I didn't always see eye-to-eye with Manuel, I couldn't fault the way he loved my daughter.
"Congratulations." I squeezed her shoulders and shook Manuel's hand. "And what about you? How are you feeling?" I circled the island to wrap my arms around Charlie's waist as she stood at the stove. She turned to face me. I'd never grow tired of the way her eyes lit up every single time I touched her.
"I'm good." This time, there was extra sparkle in her gaze. She bit her bottom lip.
"What?" I narrowed my eyes. The barking dog, Raven's giggles, the music, and Aimee's voice faded into the background. "Are you—?"
"Yes," she replied before I could finish the question. "About eight weeks."
"Hallelujah!" I picked her up and swung her in a circle, scattering kids and dogs in different directions.
"Daddy, you're crazy," Raven said, clapping her hands.
"Crazy in love," I replied. "Get over here. Both of you." My two daughters and my wife folded into my embrace. The dogs jumped and yipped at our feet. "How did I ever get so lucky?"
"Luck had nothing to do with it," Charlie said, pushing away, her face glowing with laughter. "It was a lot of hard work to get you in line."
"I'll say." Aimee slipped onto Manuel's neck. "You guys were just about the death of me."
"Has the party started already?" A quavering voice called from the doorway. Lamb surveyed the chaos with bright blue eyes. "Somebody get me a whiskey and a chair. In that order."
"Hi, Lambie!" Raven danced around her great-grandmother, clapping her hands in delight. "Did you bring me something?"
"Of course. Get my bag. I dropped it by the front door." Raven scampered to the front door. Lamb moved across the kitchen with slow steps. I caught her arm and guided her to the kitchen table. Manuel pulled out a chair for her. Despite her growing age, she was still in remarkable health.
"You didn't drive here, did you?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow.
"No, I took an Uber." She waved a wrinkled hand through the air.
"I'm glad you could make it." Charlie bent to give her a hug. Raven barreled back into the kitchen, dragging an enormous leather bag behind her. Aimee sat next to Lamb to watch as she dug inside for Raven's gift.
My heart swelled at the sight of my family. This was best damn present a man could ever ask for. I had everything I never knew I wanted, and it had all started with a one-night stand, first with Aimee's mother and then with Charlie. They were the best parts of my life. If I had the chance to do it all over again, I wouldn't change a thing.
The End
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About the Author
Jeana is an award-winning author of steamy contemporary romance, including the Felony Romance Series, the Pretty Broken Series, and the Royal Secrets Series.
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She fell in love with reading at an early age and began writing as an outlet for all the crazy stories in her head. When she’s not busy tripping over random objects, you can find her outdoors with her two crazy rat terriers or traveling to new places around the world.
www.jeanaemann.net
Reckless
Piper Lawson
Reckless © copyright 2018 Piper Lawson
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All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Created with Vellum
Reckless
Being a twenty-one-year-old screw-up has perks.
* * *
Sleepwalk through class. Drink all day. Nail anything that walks.
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In another lifetime, I was the fastest guy at Fielding College. I broke every track record on the West Coast. But since my world fell apart last year, all I want is to be left alone.
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Ariel isn't a wrench in that plan—she's a bomb. The quiet girl shows up out of nowhere and suddenly our fates are tied together.
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Now we're spending way too much time together and it's threatening to bring back the old me. I crave something she won't give me and I can't ask for.
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Because we've both got pasts that won't let go. Even if I can survive hers, we can't outrun mine.
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*Note: Reckless is adapted and revised based on a previously released duet “Chased.”
1
Chase
“There’s no way you’re keeping me off the team.”
“There’s no way you’re getting back on the team, Chase.” Under the peak of his ball cap, Coach Varis’s dark eyes dare me to argue.
Anger vibrates through me like an electrical current grounded at both ends. I push back from his desk as we stare each other down.
Here’s the thing about arguments—as soon as people take different sides, there’s going to be a winner, and a loser.
Varis doesn’t like to lose. He’s not the coach of the most decorated varsity track team on the West Coast for nothing.
But I don’t like to lose either.
And I’m not the most decorated varsity track athlete on the West Coast for nothing.
“You can’t keep me off,” I try. “The donors won’t let you.”
“The donors?” Varis scoffs. “They don’t want you. You quit three weeks into last season with zero explanation.”
My hands form fists at my sides, and I bite my tongue.
There’s an explanation all right, but it’s never going to see the light of day. Especially not in this office.
Varis reclines in his chair like he’s a king holding court. “You might be the fastest kid I’ve ever seen, but this isn’t high school. You’re a gifted athlete, Chase, but you’re difficult, you keep to yourself, you don’t help your teammates. Every one of my freshmen shows up with a smile and does my workouts and wants to be here.”
“I can do that. Not the smiling part, but the rest.” I grimace.
“How do I know you’ll put the team first this time?”
I blow out a frustrated breath. “I guess you have to trust me.”
His attention is pulled to something behind me, and I turn to follow his gaze.
The girl hovering in the doorway looks vaguely familiar. Her blond hair reminds me of honey, and it’s tucked into the tidiest ponytail I’ve ever seen. Her legs are curvy. She’s dressed like anyone else on the track team, in a purple T-shirt and black shorts. Her running shoes, though, are expensive.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, Coach.” Her brows draw together, creasing her heart-shaped face. “You told me to come see you after practice,” she says, her voice low and surprisingly full.
The girl’s gaze flicks to mine before leaping away again.
Varis nods. “We’re done, Chase.”
“We’re not.” But I feel my hope fading fast.
I stomp out the door and pull up a few feet outside, leaning against the painted brick wall.
Asking for my spot back was hard enough on the ego, but it never occurred to me he’d say no.
Fuck it. I don’t need this team. They need me. I can keep going to school without running track. It’s their loss.
The conversation from Varis’s office reaches my ears.
“Ariel, I told you. Your times were fast enough last year, but now, it’s like you’re not focused. We have a new crop of freshmen, and I can’t cut you any more slack.”
“But, Coach, running is what I do.”
“Come on. You’re a talented girl with a bright future,” he says more gently.
He talks to her differently than he talked to me. Probably because she’s a girl. Or maybe her parents write big, fat checks. She doesn’t need to win over the donors because her people are the donors.
“Chase! Get in here.” Coach barely raises his voice.
I’m annoyed he knew I’d still be here, but somewhere deep inside, hope starts to form.
When I stride back in, the girl hasn’t moved from where she’s hovering in front of the desk.
“You come to your senses?” I ask casually.
But I should’ve known from Varis’s expression he wasn’t waving the white flag yet.
“I have an offer for you. Work with Ariel for the next three weeks. Neither of you trains with the team. If Ariel can take a minute off the 10K she ran today, you both have spots for the rest of the season.”
“But, Coach—”
“You’re tying me to this?” I stab my finger in the air toward her without waiting for her to finish. “No way.”
Coach smiles grimly. “You want to run? I won’t take either of your names off my roster… yet. Three weeks. Now get out of here before I change my mind.”
“But—”
“This is a varsity sports club, not a charity. Out!” Varis thunders.
I comply, but my fist slams into the doorframe on the way.
My lungs suck in a deep breath, and I study the bricks, painted our college’s signature purple, in the hall.
“It’s not happening,” I state, rounding on her to find big, blue eyes trained on me. Their owner is standing a safe distance away, playing with the thin gold bracelet on her wrist that looks simple and expensive.
But where she’d been deferent with Varis, there’s something else in her expression now.
Curiosity maybe.
She sticks out a hand. “I’m Ariel Cross. I don’t think we’ve met. I started running last year, when you… left.”
She talks like she’s at a country club.
I study her slim fingers, but I can’t stop the laugh that rumbles out of my chest. “Ariel? Isn’t that a Disney princess name?”
She lifts her chin. “My friend has a rabbit named Chase.”
I blink.
This girl doesn’t want to be talking to me, but some part of her resists being pushed around.
I file that away, not like I’ll ever need it.
Varis’s door is closed, but I shoot it a dark look anyway. “I don’t know who swapped out Coach’s meds, but I’m sure as hell not going to babysit you while you work on your turnover.”
Ariel swallows something that sounds like a laugh. Now I’m the one waiting for her to speak. “You know what people say about you?”
“You gonna hurt my feelings with rumors, princess?”
“No. I bet you started them.” She takes a breath. “They say not to piss you off. That you dropped out and spent six months in a drug-induced haze. That the reason you’re so fast is that you want to get away from everyone.”
“Sounds like you’ve been talking to the guys. The girls would say something very different.” I let my gaze drift down her body, back up. There’s a flush in her cheeks.
“I’m not afraid of you,” she says, soft.
“You should be.”
Without waiting for her reaction, I stalk down the hallway and out into the sun, shoving my hands in the pockets of my jeans.
Rrrruff!
A vicious dog barks.
Again. Louder, like it’s closer.
I’m desperate, panting as my legs turn over. One stride, two, four.
A bell rings, and my eyes fly open. A multitude of tiny connections in my mind make the fear recede.
I’m in my room at school. The light streaming in the unshaded window is warm, bright.
I reach for the phone buzzing on the nightstand. My heart thuds in my back against the cool sheets. “Yeah?”
“It’s after two. You gonna be here any time soon, lad?” A familiar Scottish accent comes over the line.
“On my way.”
I drop the phone, and there’s quiet again. The bad dreams fade into the background, where they’ll linger until I fall asleep tonight.
A hand reaches across my body to tickle my chest.
I don’t need to look over to know she’s there.
It’s Saturday. She’s always there.
“Stay in bed.” Ashley leans over me, pressing her mouth against mine. Her kiss tastes like the vodka she mainlined a few hours ago.
I roll away, figuring she’ll get the idea. Instead, she wraps her arms around my back and curls into me. Drags a finger down the side of my abs. It might seem casual, but it’s calculated.
My dick twitches. It’s more easily swayed than the rest of me.
I push Ash off and stand, then I tug on jeans and a shirt before jerking open the bedroom door.
“We never spend time together.” Ash’s voice is two steps behind me on the stairs. “I want to feel like we have something in common.”
“We do. I have to leave in three minutes, and so do you.”
Ash knows better than to think we’ll ever be more than a way to pass each other’s time. Last night was the same game we’ve played for a few months. She came to my work. I took her home.
It’s what I need. To escape from my life for a few minutes or hours.
The contents of the fridge include a carton of apple juice, a half-eaten bowl of mac and cheese, and something fuzzy that probably didn’t start out that way. Chugging half the juice, I ignore the alarm in the back of my brain saying, This is not breakfast. The last time I ran track, I was more careful about my eating habits.
But then, I also was up before two on Saturdays.
“Are you at least going to offer me some?” Ash asks as I set the carton on the counter.
“Knock yourself out.”
“Looking good, Ash.”
We turn to find my roommate, Spence, leaning against the doorway. He’s not only awake and dressed but wearing a shirt with buttons, which probably means he’s going to a job interview or a funeral.
“You too, Spence,” Ash purrs. “You know, I always forget how much you two look alike.”
“Yeah, except for one difference. My dick’s way bigger.” Spence winks, and I snort.
Ash pats him on the shoulder. “I doubt that, sweetie.”
Spence and I are as different as coconut water and whiskey, but there is a physical resemblance if you don’t get too close. He’s a couple inches over six feet while I’m right on the mark. His short hair’s dirty blond while mine’s darker. But we have the same square jaw and almost-green eyes, and that’s what most people notice.
He’s also one of the only people who can make me smile.
“Later, Spence.” I grab my keys off the hook and press Ash out the door ahead of me.
“Wait up. I found some entertainment for us this weekend.” Spence holds up a flyer for a Greek party.
Spence is from Boston industrial money but made his own mark playing online poker. His parents don’t love his lifestyle choice, but if I were them, I’d be glad he was in school instead of chain smoking in some Vegas bar and fucking everything he could catch.
“I’m working tonight,” I tell him.
Spence makes a face. “Scottish sausagefest or young, hot coeds? Some of those girls are bendy. Seriously. Think about it.”
I chuckle as I head for the door.
After dropping Ash off, ducking out of the kiss she tries to pin on me as she slides out of the truck, I continue to my destination.
The Arch sits on the edge of campus. The bar is technically called Archetype, but rumor is Tor, who owns it, got sick of replacing all the bulbs. Now only the first part is lit.
By anyone’s definition, it’s a dive. Fortunately for Tor, some devout regulars make appearances at least three times a week. A handful of students looking for an alternative to the preppy clubs downtown also drop some cash here on the weekends.
I park in the back and let myself in the staff entrance.
“You sounded like you drank turpentine. Wasn’t sure if you’d come,” Tor says when I pass his open office door.
“Don’t I always?”
I don’t need to ask to know I’m doing inventory before bartending tonight. The long shifts keep my hands busy, if not my head.
In some ways, this place has been my constant since freshman year. Tor let me do stock before I could bartend.
Was it legal? Probably not. But Tor lives by his own code, and most of the time, it’s better than any government rules.
In the storeroom, I take the sheaf of papers and pencil off the hook and lower myself onto a crate. Tor’s old school, and at his business, inventory involves a pencil. I think he does it to punish me.
It takes me all of two minutes to realize there’s an issue with the order.
I yank out my phone and spend the next ten minutes arguing with one of our distributors about a late payment issue.
“There a problem?” Tor asks from behind me when I hang up.
“You tell me. Distributor says you missed a payment.”
He waves a hand, dismissive. “It’s fine.”
