Reckless, p.4
Reckless, page 4
Mila trots back in, this time wearing a fluffy, hot pink boa. She waves her tiara at me. “Here.”
“I love your boa. Every girl should have one of these.” A twinge of sadness settles over me at an old memory of Jamie and that time he made love to me one night while all I wore was my red boa and heels. Despite his promises, I’ve realized he only wanted me for sex. The thought hardens my heart, which I welcome. No sense in letting anyone do that to me again.
Bending down, I fix Mila’s long blonde hair behind her ears before I slide on her tiara. “Voilà! What a perfect princess you are!”
She grins and gently pats her costume jewelry.
I whisper in her ear. “I bet your daddy would love to take a selfie with you while you’re dressed up.”
Her smile widens as she turns to her father, whose attention is drilled on me. Seriously, why is he staring? I motion my head toward his kid. Look alive, dude.
His eyes shift to Mila, and I’m taken aback by the love that floods his expression. She asks him to take a photo with her, and he nods and scoops her into his arms, presses a kiss to her forehead, and reaches for the cell in his back pocket.
I look away, not needing to see some sentimental moment between these two.
Even though Ethan seems to have a stick up his ass, the living room is welcoming with cozy, overstuffed couches and a big flatscreen TV. Along the far wall is a stone fireplace with a mantel full of photos and horse trophies.
When we pulled up to the ranch, my sister said this property has been in Ethan’s family for three generations.
“Your house is gorgeous, ma’am,” I tell Beverly.
Her face lights up. “Ethan did all the renovations.”
He sets down Mila and shoves his hands in his pockets. “Ma, you know I had some help.”
I ignore the shiver that runs through me from the sound of his deep voice.
Beverly points down the hall. “He installed those beautiful counters in the kitchen, expanded the house, knocked down walls, added the bedrooms along the East side—the whole shebang. He really is very handy.”
Too bad he’s a dick. I smile awkwardly and nod, turning my back so I don’t have to look at Ethan and his throat-punching presence.
My sister tries to scoot off the floor, and I roll my eyes and rush to help her up.
“No more sitting on the floor,” I groan as I steady my sister.
When Izzy grabs her mom’s hand, I finally let go of her.
“I told her to sit on the couch,” Logan says, rubbing his jaw the same way his brother does.
Logan gives me a shrug and a wink, and I can’t resist smiling back. He’s a carbon copy of his brother except his eyes are lighter, and he’s leaner. Not to mention nicer. Ethan is all brawn with hard muscles, tattoos, and a roughness I can’t really explain.
It’s crystal-clear the Carter brothers are total lady-killers.
That means it’s time to go.
Because I’ve had my fill of these kind of guys for at least a lifetime.
5
Ethan
My mother stirs the pot on the stove and hums in the back of her throat. “Isn’t Tori a peach?”
“Stop it, Ma.”
“What? Ethan, she’s adorable. Did you see the way Mila lights up around her? I feel better about going to Chicago already.”
Propping my hands on my hips, I drop my head back with a sigh. “I’m not hiring her.” Even though it kinda kills me not to.
I don’t exactly have a string of available babysitters on call, and I’m not dumb enough to think I can take care of the kids on my own when my mom leaves. Why did I have to be such an asshole to Tori this afternoon?
“That girl is exactly what we need around here. She’s sweet as pie with the kids and doesn’t put up with your malarkey.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I heard what you said to her. All that bark, like you were trying to scare her away, and she just dished it right back. Not like Allison, who told you what you wanted to hear until she lost her noodle over something silly.”
That’s because Allison never let anyone see the real her. In private, she nitpicked me to death. Nothing was ever good enough or nice enough. To everyone else, though, she pretended things were fine because she wanted them to think she was perfect.
“Has anyone ever told you it’s not polite to eavesdrop? And anyway, Tori told me she doesn’t like children. That she’d fail a background check. Who says that?”
Though she obviously has a way with kids. Mila hasn’t stopped talking about her this evening.
My mom laughs under her breath. “Sounds like you were both lying to each other. You know, in my day, we called that foreplay.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Please, please stop talking.”
She stirs the pot like she hasn’t just grossed me the fuck out. “I never thought Allison was right for you.” Here we go again. “She never had any spark. Boring as a dishrag.”
“She wasn’t boring.” I groan as I rub the ache in my chest. For some reason, I feel the need to defend her. “We grew apart. When we were at A&M, things were different. Our relationship was easier.” Of course shit’s easier before you have kids.
I guess I always knew Allison wasn’t exactly wired to be home all the time. To be so domestic. She liked hanging with her circle of rich friends. Being social. Being seen.
Rubbing that spot again, I shake my head. “I don’t think she realized how hard it was gonna be living out here in the middle of nowhere.”
I thought we’d be a team and help each other. Sure, it’s my parents’ ranch, but I was putting in long days for our family. For her and our kids. Not for shits and giggles.
My mom waves a wooden spoon at me. “Don’t be dramatic. Austin is forty minutes away, and there’s a Walmart down the road. We’re not total hicks.”
I chuckle. Beverly Carter is as feisty as they come. “You know what I mean. Being isolated on the ranch. I think she needed to be around more people. And it’s not like she was prepared to have a baby so soon.” Ain’t no way to prepare for a baby when you’re a senior in college.
“What she needs is to take care of her kids and be a good mother. What she needs is to be a woman of her word and live up to her marriage vows.”
That ache grows, and I open the fridge to grab a beer. “It is what it is. Nothing I can do about it now.” Trust me, I’ve tried.
“Good riddance. At least this way, I know Allison won’t be taking off with my jewelry when I die.”
“Ma, c’mon.” I reach for this teeny woman who somehow birthed me and my brother. Kissing the top of her head, I laugh. “No more talk about dying, okay?”
“Ethan?”
“Yeah.”
She puts her hand on my shoulder and looks up at me. “Your daddy would be proud of you. So proud of everything you’ve done here.”
I swallow the lump in my throat and nod. “Thanks. I try.” Filling my dad’s shoes when he passed six years ago was something none of us expected I’d have to do so soon. He was young and healthy. I thought I’d have more time. More time to travel with Allison. More time to enjoy being young. More time to learn from my father.
“I know it, son. I’m proud of you too. The last few years have been tough, but you hang in there. You’re a damn good father and a damn good rancher.” She presses her lips together. “I’m sorry your wife didn’t appreciate you.”
Blowing out a breath, I hug her tight and let her go before we both start crying like little girls. “What’s for dinner? I need something with beef before I waste away.”
She chuckles and pats my gut. “I got just the thing.”
* * *
The next morning, I skim my emails and am surprised to see a message from Kat. All it says is, “My sister may seem crabby, but she’s a sweetheart under that tough shell, and she’s wonderful with kids. Thought you might need this if she hasn’t scared you away.” When I open the attachment, Tori’s driver’s license pops up on the screen.
Yes, I was a dick to Tori yesterday. Yes, I deserved her animosity. But I wasn’t prepared to like her smart mouth and all that sass. In fact, I haven’t stopped thinking about it—about her—since.
Of course, she’s beautiful in this photo. Hazel eyes twinkling with mischief. Plump lips smiling. All that fucking hair.
Hair that would feel damn good dragging along my chest while she rode me.
Scrubbing my face, I groan. Jesus, the last thing I need is to be thinking about her like this.
“Why so forlorn, bro?” Logan plops down into the chair on the other side of my desk with a smirk and a shrug like he’s footloose and fancy-free.
I love my brother, but I really want to kick his ass for springing Tori on me. “That stunt you pulled yesterday was hysterical. Thanks for that.”
“No problemo. Thought you needed a nudge.”
“No more fucking nudges. I’ll do this when I’m damn well ready.” The sound of his snicker makes me lift my eyes. “You’re wearing down my last nerve.”
“What? I’m a problem-solver. I solved your problem.”
“You’re a pain in the ass.”
He grabs his chest and pretends he’s hurt, but then that smirk returns. “You’ll thank me some day for hiring Tori. The kids love her, Kat vouches for her, and Tori’s hot. It’ll be nice to have some eye candy around here for a change. I’d rather stare at her gorgeous ass than your plumber’s crack.”
My hands automatically clench. “You are not fucking my babysitter.” I don’t bother reminding him that I haven’t hired her yet.
Delight stretches across on his face like it’s Christmas morning and I just plunked one of his Instagram crushes on his lap. “Gee, bro. Why not? Are you jealous?”
I ignore the question, even though I’m oddly aware that I might be. Not sure why. I don’t even know the girl. Except for that crazy-sexy hair, she’s not my type. “And I don’t walk around with my crack hanging out, moron.”
Reaching over my desk, he grabs a pencil and twirls it on the counter. Silence settles over us as I watch him spin that number two. Finally, he says, “Remember that time I almost got arrested for mooning Charles DeWitt’s daughter? Dad was so pissed. How was I supposed to know her family was in the car with her? I thought she was driving her friends back from the football game.”
“What was that? Your senior year of high school?” He nods, and I laugh. “I got the highlights when Dad called me that weekend. Your antics made up the bulk of our phone calls when I was at A&M.” Chuckling, I point at him with my cup of coffee before I take a sip. “And everyone says you have a way with women. I bet showing Casey DeWitt your hairy balls won her over fast.”
“I’ll have you know I nailed Casey in her daddy’s barn two weeks after the mooning incident. She didn’t seem to mind my hairy balls one bit. That girl teabags like a champ.”
“Jesus, bro.” I shake my head and tuck my hair back in my baseball cap. “TMI.” Logan has always been a player with a capital P. I wasn’t a monk growing up, but I didn’t fuck everything with two legs either.
Reaching for a pen so I can pay some bills, I glance over when he doesn’t respond.
Shoulders tight, eyebrows cinched, he shakes his head. “I was so busy raising hell in high school, I didn’t notice the signs that Dad was working too hard.”
Aw, hell.
The familiar rush of guilt for not being here when it happened makes my stomach clench. Dad died that spring. Right before Allison told me she was pregnant. While my friends were partying and going off to start their lives, I was burying my father and worrying my girlfriend might abort our baby.
Of course, I told her I’d support her decision, stand by her, whatever it was. I might be old-fashioned in a lot of ways, but I’m not arrogant enough to think I have any say over what a woman does with her body. But I’d also be lying if I said I didn’t want her to have Mila. Even if I wasn’t in any way prepared to be a parent, I always wanted my daughter.
It seemed like the right thing to do. To marry Allison and support her and our child.
I knew Allison and I didn’t have amazing chemistry, but we had fun together, and I thought that could turn into love. Besides, I always abide by my commitments, and I wasn’t gonna let her go through a situation like that by herself. Her parents were less than thrilled with her marrying some guy from the sticks, even though they knew my folks since they were horse enthusiasts.
I would’ve done anything to get my dad’s advice in those days.
Ignoring the sting in my eyes, I clear my throat. “Those were rough times, but you’re not a fortune-teller, Logan. No way for you to know Dad’s ticker wasn’t healthy. The doctor said that kind of thing takes out high-school kids when they’re playing football. The right tackle, the right hit, and lights out.” Our mom made us both get echocardiograms to make sure we hadn’t inherited the condition.
I wait until Logan looks up and wipes his eyes. “No, you kept Dad young. Kept him on his toes. Not every man in this county can say his son mooned Charles DeWitt and lived to talk about it. I tend to think Dad was proud of his progeny on most days.”
Logan laughs, and relief settles over me to see him smile. “Why you always gotta use such big words, huh?”
“’Cause I’m what you’d call edumacated.” Regret eats at me since Logan never got a chance to go to college. He wanted to stay here to help me. He swears he doesn’t care, that school was never his thing, but it still bothers me he had to buckle down so soon.
My brother’s smile fades and he stares at me a long, awkward minute before his expression hardens. “Okay, you educated bastard, do yourself a favor and hire Tori before you die of a heart attack out there, trying to do everything on your own. If you’re so damn smart, get some help before you work yourself to death. Think about Mila and Cody. They need you to grow old and fat and lose your hair.”
A lump rises in my throat. Logan leans forward, his eyes somber, as he waits for the answer he wants to hear. One I reluctantly give him.
“Fine, I’ll hire Tori if it’ll get you off my ass.” I snatch the baseball hat off my head and toss it at him. “And ain’t no one losing his hair around here, asshole.”
Logan leans back in his chair, the smile on his face telling me he loves me, the sappy twerp. Thing is? I know I can’t do this by myself. And maybe Tori is exactly what I need. If we don’t strangle each other first.
“Glad to hear it.” He gets up and smacks me on the back. “Because I bought Mom’s ticket to Chicago. She leaves on Monday.”
6
Tori
The thick smell of cumin and chili powder wafts through the air, making my stomach growl. After one more stir, I tap the wooden spoon on the lip of the Dutch oven and place it in the “I love my spicy Mexican” spoon rest. That dumb thing still cracks me up, years after Brady gave it to my sister.
Cooking is the one thing I’m decent at, but only because I’ve had a shitty social life this last year. Though having a man-free diet made me turn to the next best alternative—actual food. While my friends were out partying, I was watching the Cooking Channel, doing my best to whip up those recipes, and trying not to feel like a loser.
I peer over my shoulder at Kat, who’s sitting at the kitchen table. “Hermana, are you sure you want it this spicy? I thought you had a lot of heartburn.”
Her lips tighten briefly and she blinks, once, twice. Miss Poker Face has the audacity to smile and shrug like she hasn’t a clue what I’m talking about.
She’s obviously hiding something.
Whatever. She’s been acting weird the whole day. Maybe I should chalk it up to a hormonal imbalance. If her feet weren’t so swollen, she’d insist on making dinner, but I talked her into kicking back and relaxing even though she’s going to be a back seat driver.
“Did you put in the Ro-Tel tomatoes?” she asks, eyeing the pot suspiciously.
See. Backseat driver. “Yeah, and when you’re hanging over the toilet later tonight, puking your little heart out, don’t blame me.”
She gives me that strange smile, the one that tells me she’s keeping a secret and thinks I’m clueless.
The front door slams shut and the stomp of boots coming through the living room echoes closer. Izzy comes racing around the corner with her arms open wide.
Three, two, one.
I turn back toward the stove as the sound of her feet stop, which tells me she’s gone airborne, followed by a grunt as she throws herself at her father. She might be seven, but she’s a total Daddy’s Girl.
“There’s my angel.” His voice rings out in the small kitchen. “And here’s my other angel.”
A minute later, the sound of smacking makes me smile and shake my head. Without looking, I know Brady has Izzy in his arms, and he’s leaning down to plant a wet one on Kat.
“Too much kissing,” Izzy jokes, and I snicker to myself. That kid is my mini-me, much to the chagrin of my sister.
Stirring the pot again, I give them a moment to be lovey-dovey. It makes me strangely emotional to be around them. They’re this perfect family unit. Every day, their house is filled with warmth and love. Even though I try to tell myself I don’t want this, that I don’t want a husband or kids because I know I’m a fuck-up, when I’m around Brady and Kat and little Izzy, I do want the happily ever after so much it makes my chest ache.
Damn Jamie for making me think that was possible.
I clench my jaw.
When I think the love fest is over, I turn around.
“Something smells good,” Brady says, setting his daughter down. “Ethan still coming over for dinner?”
“Mr. Ethan’s coming over?” Izzy grins.
What the… What?
My sister cringes and laughs awkwardly.
Crossing my arms, I squint. “Something you want to tell me, Katherine?”
We never discussed what happened at Ethan’s two days ago. What was the point? It was clear from everyone’s expressions in the living room they heard my argument with Ethan—his mom, his brother, my sister, the kids.
