Page 37 of Reckless Encounters

He chuckles, and fuck, if it doesn’t stir a million flutters in my stomach. “Speaking of, what happened to your AirPods?”

I make a gun with my fingers and point toward my carry on under the seat in front of me. “Dead. I forgot to charge the stupid things.”

“Why are they stupid? You are the one who forgot?”

“Oh, fuck off,” I playfully growl, trying to stop myself from smiling.

His hand reaches out to me. “Want to listen? This one is interesting and…informative.”

Unable to resist, I put his AirPod in my left ear. Of course I keep the thank you to myself. Gotta maintain my brat persona he loves so much.

He presses play, and to my utter surprise, he is certainly not listening to a podcast. I bust out laughing, causing the row beside us to nearly break their necks.

“Really?” I laugh harder, reminiscing on the twin’s birthday party. This is the last thing I thought he’d be listening to. “‘Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy’?” I say as the song pours through the small earpiece.

“It’s my favorite right now,” he says with a teasing smile. I love this side of him.

I turn to look at him, holding his stare. This just so happens to be what was blasting through the speakers as I was riding the mechanical bull at Eli and Quinn’s yesterday. The bull Eli insisted on having at his one-year-old’s first birthday party. Obviously, a party favor for the adults.

“Is the image of me busting my ass when it threw me off, playing on repeat in that sick head of yours?”

“Nah, I’m recalling something much less decent than that, brat.” His dark and stormy eyes penetrate me with every word. Suddenly, my mouth feels like it needs more than this drink.

His words from last night flit through my mind.

Maybe that’s the problem, Ava, maybe I’m not only capable of that.

I hate letting him know the way he continuously affects me. Giving him that satisfaction feels like defeat at this point.

Gently smacking his chest, I retort with humor instead. “Perv…you were at a children’s birthday party.”

His eyes pin me with a suggestive stare that traces from my face to my yoga-pant-clad legs.

“You were the one riding the bull in those little jean shorts, showing off those legs. I was jealous of a piece of fucking machinery.”

“Aw, poor bossman,” I say, keeping it light as my heart is thuds harder at his confession. This is exactly why I fell asleep to thoughts of him instead of overanalyzing the text I accidentally received from Logan. While annoying, that text was likely an easy out for me in the end.

The tune winds down, and Parker passes me his phone. “What’s your favorite song right now?”

That’s easy. I’m doing a routine to this one so it’s always on repeat. Within seconds, Selena and Rema bleed through the speakers, the beat making me want to move my hips in the seat.

“I knew you’d pick this.” His knowing tone has me trying to remember if I have ever had it on blast in the office. “How?”

“Just a good guess,” Parker says, not meeting my eyes.

I narrow my stare, but let it go as the words to “Calm Down” play. I can visualize my routine from start to finish. It’s one of my favorites because it is a mixture of hip hop and pole.

A question pops into my head. Part of me worries that it's a sore subject, but I still decide to ask it.

“What was your favorite walk-out song in college?”

For a split second, he stares at me, and I worry I really did take it too far until a rare smile brightens his face. It almost stops my heart right then and there.

“My favorite was probably the ‘Wipe Me Down’ remix. How can that not hype you up?”

I smile back as he plays it, and I follow along, pretending to “wipe myself down,” the song taking me back to high school dance party days.

To my shock, he pretends to wipe off his black leather Christian Louboutin low-tops. Who the fuck is this man? I wish I had really known him when he was younger and more carefree.

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