Reckless, p.25
Reckless, page 25
I shake my head, but he already knows that answer. “We were disagreeing, but it wasn’t contentious. Well, until…” I don’t want to say it.
“Until Tori showed up?” he adds helpfully. “And now Allison wants to come to the shindig Tori’s planning for our family? Fuck.”
“What do I do? I can’t tell Tori she can’t come to the party. I want her there. She’s important to me. But I can’t exactly tell Allison she’s not invited. Not when we’re in the middle of negotiating that contract.”
His head dips back to the back of the couch with a groan. “You sure know how to get yourself in a mess. See, this is why bachelor life is great. Wanna bang a hot new chick? No prob. Wanna fuck two cocktail waitresses at the same time? Someone hand me the lube. But this?” He shivers dramatically. “This I can’t handle. I know I said I was on board with the co-op and having silent investors, but the operative word there is silent.”
“Look at you with the big words.”
He socks me in the shoulder. “I’m just saying, are you sure you want to be tied to Allison for another four or five years? Because if we do this deal, you’re on the hook. We both are.”
Frustration, hot and fierce, fires up in my gut. “What am I supposed to do? Refinance the ranch again? Leave Mom nothing for retirement? She doesn’t even have Dad’s life insurance because those bastards never paid out.” The damn life insurance company argued that he had a preexisting health condition he failed to disclose and denied Mom’s claim.
Blowing out a breath, I break it down for Logan. “You heard our attorney as plainly as I did. People in our situation can either refinance to pay off the other spouse or sell assets.” I spread my arms. “Which assets you wanna sell? Your house? Some farmland, which ain’t worth shit except for our houses and barns? The horses, which is where we get our income from? Please spell it out for me.”
The pained groan that rumbles out of him tells me he’s as worked up as I am, and for a minute, we sit there, silent, muddling through our thoughts, with the recap of the Astros game on in the background.
Shifting on the couch, I try to explain it better. “All I did tonight was talk some sense into Allison. Sat her down, let her relax with a glass of wine, so she’d stop yappin’, and made sure she understood that our disagreements over shit had better start and stop with the kids. That if we sign the co-op contract, she’s a silent partner when it comes to the business.” With a palm over my mouth, I mumble the rest. “I might’ve offered a bigger percentage for her to promise she wouldn’t contest custody of the kids.”
I cringe, knowing my brother might be pissed, but when we make eye contact, all I see is acceptance.
“Mila and Cody are yours, and I’ll go down fighting to make sure it stays that way. Hate that she’s getting more outta this deal, but I can’t say I blame you for trying. If those kids were mine, I’d do the same thing.”
I’m so relieved, I could cry. Instead, I squeeze his arm. “Thanks for having my back, brother.”
He ruffles my hair like I’m a kid. “Always. Now go explain this shit to Tori. Make sure she gets where you’re coming from and doesn’t think you were wining and dining your ex-wife.”
My attention returns to glasses in front of me. To the red lipstick on the stemware. To the half-empty bottle of Pinot.
Goddamn it.
I have to believe she knows me better than that.
* * *
The hard thud of my heart in my chest is all I hear as I tap on Tori’s bedroom door, but there’s no answer. With a twist of the handle, it opens, and I’m relieved, so fucking relieved, she didn’t lock me out.
“Tor?” Her petite outline curled up on the bed sends a bittersweet ache through me.
What would she and I be like without all the drama? If we were just two singles in Austin bumping into each other on a Friday evening over drinks in a bar? I’d ask her out in a second. I’d spare no expense to make her feel special.
Instead, tonight, I asked her to whisk away the kids while I dealt with my ex-wife.
How long will Tori deal with that kind of baggage? In my head, I consider all the reasons this would’ve been easier if we hadn’t gotten involved. If we’d kept things professional. Because the boss in me feels like I’m taking advantage of her by asking her to do me personal favors, like watch my kids on a Sunday night.
But the boyfriend in me? Yeah, he’s grateful as hell to be able to trust her with my children. To know when they’re in her care, I don’t have to worry like I would with a stranger. Save for my brother and Mom, there’s no one who adores Mila and Cody more.
Does she have any idea how much she means to me? How grateful I’ve been for our friendship and all the nights she’s let me wrap myself around her in bed?
I toss my t-shirt and jeans on the ground next to the bed and crawl in behind her.
Her breathing is slow and deep, and though I’m relieved we don’t have to talk about all the shit that went down tonight because I’m beat, I hate letting unresolved issues linger. I did that with Allison, allowed too many unspoken things go, and I don’t want to make that mistake again.
“Baby,” I whisper as I hug her to me.
She’s not a terribly deep sleeper, but tonight she’s out. I almost forgot she had her sister’s shower today. Tori must be worn out.
And when she got home, you made her babysit. Nice job, asshole.
Wishing I could wake her and apologize, tell her how sorry I am to put her in that position, I settle for whispering it to her and hoping we get time tomorrow to have this conversation face to face.
If tonight has clarified anything for me, it’s that I can’t do this—life, the ranch, the business—without her help.
But more than that, I don’t want to do it without her.
46
Tori
The ingredients seem to weigh a million pounds as I mix in the mayo for a new potato salad recipe I’m testing for Cody’s birthday party next week. My mind snags on Logan and Ethan’s argument last night, their voices animated enough to swell through my closed bedroom door as I was dozing off, drained from my sister’s shower and the Allison drama.
Was it arguing?
All I remember is Ethan saying, “It’s not what you think.”
Those words send chills down my arms.
Because cheaters say those kind of things, my heart warns.
No. No, tontita.
Ethan is not Jamie. It’s a mantra I’ve reminded myself of all summer. Just because Ethan and Allison talked over a glass of wine does not mean anything happened. Rationally, I understand this. Rationally, I don’t have a problem with the two of them needing to calm down to discuss the plan for Cody’s birthday.
But Loony Tunes Tori? The one who fails out of school when she’s too depressed to get out of bed and attend class when her boyfriend cheated on her with his wife? Yeah, she needs help stepping away from the ledge. Because she’s screaming I’m being naive.
My stomach knots at the thought that I might come out the loser again.
Maybe I should take a step back. Maybe Ethan isn’t ready for more. Maybe the kids need time to adjust to everything that happened this summer.
Basically everything Ethan told me after Allison found us that Sunday morning in the back of his truck comes rushing back to me like a dark tide after a storm.
I cannot believe I fell asleep before I could talk to him last night.
With a wipe of my elbow across my clammy forehead, I sigh and taste the mixture before reaching for the mustard.
Sometimes I wonder if I should’ve confronted Jamie about what he did last year instead of shutting him out. Sure, I slashed his tires like a fucking psycho, and that felt amazing in the moment, but it didn’t do anything to help me deal with the emotional turmoil he’d unleashed on my life. Never mind that it was stupid as hell. What if he’d called the cops? It’s not like I can afford to get in trouble again.
Between my sister not wanting me to plan her baby shower and Ethan’s cozy chat with Allison, that kernel of worry snowballs, making me question if this is the right place for me.
Maybe I should be trying to carve out my own life in Austin after all. Ethan and I could take things slow and see each other when Allison has the kids. I’ve never done slow in my life, as my driving record indicates, but if that’s what this family needs to move forward, I’m willing to take a step back.
My hands drop to my sides, mashed potatoes sliding off the wooden spoon and landing on the floor with a wet plop.
It would break my heart to leave the ranch. Already, I feel the cracks forming at the thought, like fissures of ice on the sidewalk when it freezes, making it hard to breathe. I’ve been so intimate with Ethan, opened up to him in ways I’ve never opened up to any man before, but can I really afford to go any further if I’m some kind of rebound from Allison?
I look up at the ceiling and blink away the heat building in my eyes.
Please, Ethan. Please don’t jerk me around.
When I woke up this morning, I could’ve sworn I was going to roll over and find Ethan, but the sun was up, which meant he was already in the barn, and I couldn’t figure out if I’d only dreamt him wrapping his arms around me last night or if we’d really slept in the same bed.
The kids’ voices bring me back to the present where they’re sitting at the kitchen table with a million crayons, coloring Paw Patrol images I printed off the internet. Back to apple slices and story time and dress-up—simple things that bring so much joy to my life.
No more crazy, I decide, mentally boxing up all of this emotional crap until I can deal with it later. Because I have a job to do. I can’t very well take care of these children if I’m an emotional wreck, and they deserve my best. But more than any job or expectation, I love Mila and Cody, and I always want to be in the moment with them instead of staring off into space like a lunatic.
I clear my throat and try to sniffle quietly.
Their jubilant laughter makes me break out into a watery smile. They’re such a bright spot, always cheerful and loving and sweet. Truly, no one deserves happiness more than my tiny tikes.
I turn around and… Oh, holy shit.
Sputtering, I’m caught with my mouth hanging open at the sight before me—Cody’s head coated in butter, his mischievous eyes peeking up at me through the pale yellow slime.
The condiment tub, gaping and empty, sits on the floor. Next to it, Cody-sized hand prints decorate the hardwood floor like an art exhibit gone wrong.
What just happened?
He giggles. “Rawr! Scawwwwwwyyyyy!” Waving his hands, he grins up at me.
Mila shields her smile with her hand like she’s embarrassed. “He’s a ghost. For Halloween.”
Internally, I’m yelling at myself for not paying better attention.
Because like everything else, this is my fault too.
47
Ethan
With a haughty flick of her wrist, Mallory Mathers shoves a lock of red hair over her shoulder. All the better to glare at me.
I glare back. “You need to lean back more. If you’re sitting up that high in the saddle, your ass is gonna go flying off that new filly of yours faster than you can blink.”
“Maybe we should call it a day.”
“It’s your dollar. You wanna quit twenty minutes early, be my guest.” I’m in a foul mood, and Mallory’s piss-poor attitude is gnawing on my last nerve. All I want to do is head into the house, hug my kids and kiss my girlfriend. Make sure they’re okay after last night. But no. I’m sweating my balls off while I deal with this spoiled princess.
Mallory’s eyes narrow like she’s mentally murdering me, and I force a smile. No sense in actually being murdered. “Cool off your horse. You know the routine. And put your saddle in the right place this time.”
Last week, she left it in the stall instead of in the tack room. Almost had a hemorrhage when I saw the damn thing. She’s off her rocker if she thinks I’m gonna clean up after her again.
It’s barely ten a.m., but the heat is unforgiving. Sweat barrels down me like I just hopped out of the shower. As soon as my client is gone, I can take a break. I’m gonna have to or I might pass out.
I glance at the clock on the back wall. Where the hell is Logan? He was supposed to be here hours ago.
Trudging toward the giant sink in the grooming stable, I swivel on the cold water and wash my face. The water is tepid at best, but I’ll take anything right now.
I’m wiping the salt out of my eyes when her voice makes me turn.
“I won’t be in next week since I’m headed to the Bahamas for a few days, but I’ll be back for the party.”
“What party?” I tilt my head. Surely, she can’t mean…
“Your son’s birthday.” She looks at me like I’m an idiot. “Allison called me about it yesterday. You really should give people more notice.”
Let me get this straight. My ex-wife invited my client to Cody’s birthday party? Before she even talked to me? What the fresh hell?
As soon as Mallory’s gone, I stomp toward the house, needing to sit down for this conversation I plan to have with Allison. She is out of her goddamn mind.
I’m kicking off my filthy boots and hopping on one foot when I catch a glimpse in the kitchen where all hell has broken loose.
Cody is covered in… butter? And Mila is sliding and twirling on the mess like a nutty ballerina. They’re both giggling uncontrollably.
Where’s Tori?
Stepping closer, I finally let out a sigh of relief when I spot her bent over—face down, ass up—reaching for something that must’ve rolled under the stove.
The corner of my mouth lifts. That is a beautiful ass.
A chuckle escapes me at the insanity in this kitchen. The kids spot me and run full-out, laughing and sliding toward me.
“Whoa, there.” Jesus, I sound like I’m talking to one of my horses.
They ignore me and go crashing into my legs. We end up in a buttery pile on the floor.
Holy crap, that hurt.
“I can explain!” Tori shouts as she shuffles toward us.
“Watch out.” From this angle, it’s easy to see the oil slick on the floor that my kids dragged along the wood.
It happens in slow motion, Tori wiping out. Arms windmilling. Legs flying out from under her. The yelp she cries before she hits the ground.
I feel helpless under a pile of sticky children. Shit.
“Babe, you okay?” I grunt as I slowly peel Mila and Cody off me.
Tori moans, slowly reaching around to rub her elbow, then her ass. Speaking of ass, mine hurts like the dickens. That floor is harder than it looks.
I’m limping toward her when the front door closes and my brother’s voice rings out. “Holy shit. What happened here?”
But it’s the gasp that follows that has me looking up. “Good lord, boy. I didn’t raise y’all in a barn.” My mother chuckles at her joke.
“GRANDMA!” my kids shout and scramble toward her, but I snag the backs of their t-shirts, stopping them in their buttery tracks.
“Nope. Bath time first. Then you two miscreants can hug your grandma.”
My mother looks tickled to find her brood in such a disarray. “Need some help?”
I blow out a breath and send up a prayer of thanks. “You have no idea.”
48
Tori
It comes at the perfect time.
I stare at the text message, wondering if I’ve somehow willed it into existence.
Kat: Can you help me this week? Please? I’m desperate. I’m behind on a ton of orders, but I’m too big and too tired to do this on my own. I’ll owe you!
When I don’t respond because I’m too busy re-reading the message, another one pops up.
Kat: Want my truck? You can have it.
She must really need my help.
Kat: Stay with me. Maybe a week or two? I’ll pay you! More than the sisterly wage of love and tacos.
I chuckle. She knows I’d do anything for her for free.
A wave of relief settles over me. At least this way I can leave on my own terms instead of having Ethan let me go.
But when I tell him my plan, he looks confused.
He’s paying bills in his office, and I’m sitting in front of him. It’s a very boss-employee moment, which is weird since we haven’t had this kind of vibe since he peeled off my panties in the back of his truck.
His eyebrows pull together. “What are you talking about? Don’t you wanna stay?” A hurt expression flashes on his face, but then it’s gone. Did I imagine it?
I nod. “Of course I want to stay, but where do you suggest I bunk? With your mom?”
We were all surprised Beverly returned early, but she was homesick. She’s staying here for now because Logan needs “a few days to clean his house,” which probably means he needs to clear out ten million pizza boxes and trash cans full of condoms. Gross.
Ethan has a spacious house, but it has limitations. Where’s Beverly supposed to sleep? With Mila, the human octopus? Beverly should have my room. I could sleep on the couch or on the floor in the sewing room, but I can’t bring myself to suggest it.
The idea of sleeping on the floor reeks of desperation, and that embarrasses me. Nothing used to embarrass me, but I’m starting to think it’s because I didn’t know better.
In any case, I’m not shacking up with Ethan while his mom is here.
He doesn’t say anything, and I shift in my seat.
“Look, Ethan, I know you can’t afford me, and since your mom is home, I figured you’d want to save the money.”
When I was in here cleaning his office, I caught a glimpse of his bank statements and bills, including the one from his attorney, which almost made me lose my lunch. No wonder the man is stressed out. I may not have much to my name, but I don’t have nearly the overhead that he does.
