Page 2 of Love Me Reckless

“He’s trying to woo me.” I puff out my chest.

Zach grins. “Told you.”

The young woman I saw laughing in the bar steps through the back door with Zach’s girl, Sofie.

“Who’s that?” I ask Zach in a low tone. A breeze sifts through her long hair, exposing her bare shoulders and the freckles that dot her skin like spilled cinnamon.

“Kirilee St. Claire,” Zach says. “One of Sofie’s best friends. Her dad owns Finn River Ranch.”

I choke on my lemonade. “Seriously?”

Zach cocks an eyebrow. “You want me to introduce you? She’s probably the nicest person I’ve ever met. And really talented. It’s too bad?—”

“And who’sthat?” I interrupt as the guy in the suit follows Kirilee outside. He leans closer to whisper something in her ear. Her long eyelashes flutter and she straightens her spine like she’s fighting her reaction to this guy.

I have no right to dislike him, but I do.

“Uh, that’s her dad’s latest attempt to marry her off to someone richer than him so their two families can combine forces and rule the universe.”

“For real?” I try to make sense of this while the guy strolls to an empty corner of the deck, slips his phone from his pocket, and starts typing. “Does she want to get married?”

Zach’s mouth twists, like he’s conflicted. “I don’t think she’s being given a choice.”

I shake my head. “That’s wrong.”

“For real.”

After another game of foosball and meeting more of Zach’s Finn River friends, the party winds down. After Zach leaves with Sofie and William, I help bring in a bunch of glassware and the bartender waves me into the back. When I slip inside the empty kitchen, the girl with the strawberry blonde hair and generous smile—Kirilee St. Claire—is limping toward me, a pained look on her face.

“Hey.” I shoot her a concerned glance. “You okay?”

“I got a splinter,” she says over the sound of the dishwasher. “The bartender said they had a first aid kit back here.”

I give the kitchen a quick scan but don’t see one. Quickly, I unload the glasses into the dishwashing tray, then hurry to the main prep area of the kitchen, now spotless and bare after the end of the shift. “Is there an office?”

“That’s what he said,” Kirilee leans on the edge of the counter. Even in the dim lighting, the giant rock on her left ring finger sparkles like a lit fuse.

“Hop up,” I say, nodding to the kitchen prep table. “I’ll go find it.”

She gives me a look.

“Need help?” I arch an eyebrow.

Her green eyes flash with curiosity. “No.”

It takes her a moment to realize I’m waiting.

“I can’t sit up there,” she says. “It’s for preparing food.”

“You’d rather stand here in pain?”

“Well, no.”

I’m getting the sense that this girl doesn’t break many rules. In one quick motion, I slide my hands to her waist and lift her to the table. I shouldn’t notice her little gasp of surprise or how her curves feel in my rough hands. And I shouldn’t like it.

“Stay right there.” I don’t mean it to come out bossy, but it’sbetter than her thinking she’s got me flustered. Plus, I won’t have her walking another step in pain.

I continue down the hallway. I’ve worked in a few restaurants, so I know there’s usually an office for things like payroll and bookkeeping. But as I round the corner, two things happen at once. I find the office—a door is ajar. And I hear noises coming from inside it. Music?

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