Page 18 of Love Me Reckless

I hang Sarah’s suit in the bathroom and finger-brush my hair before stepping into the hallway.

When I round the corner, Sawyer is walking in from the deck. “You forgot this.” He flashes the tidy package of first aid supplies from Cooper, pinched between his thumb and fingers.

“Oh.” I hurry over.

“Kirilee, are you hurt?” Grayson asks from the doorway, concern lacing his tone.

I glance over my shoulder and smile to reassure him. “Just a splinter. From the deck at the restaurant.”

Even though I don’t need the items, I slip them from Sawyer’s fingers. Our hands brush, sending my heart pitter-pattering into my throat. “I never asked what you want,” I say before I lose my nerve.

He frowns.

“Kirilee,” Grayson warns.

I tuck the first aid supplies into my jean jacket pocket. “If you help me, I get to help you back.”

He smiles, and the air between us turns staticky. “What makes you think I don’t already have everything I want?”

This throws me, and I laugh.

“See you around, princess,” he says with a wink.

I shoot him a murderous glare, but I’m still laughing.

Before I embarrass myself any further, I spin away and walk to the door.

Grayson ushers me from the house. Outside, he releases a sigh of relief and sets my shoes down on the stoop. Reluctantly, I slide them on, then lean on his arm so I can affix the tiny buckles.

In the car, we drive from the neighborhood in silence. I think back to the craziest conversation I’ve ever had with a total stranger, and the fire it lit inside me.

“What happened tonight?” Grayson asks once we’re heading back to town.

I’m tempted to spill everything to him about Sawyer and share what we talked about, but I know he’s worried about what I said on the phone. “I… don’t know, exactly. Birch sort of disappeared for a while.”

“Maybe he had to take a call.”

I think back to when Sawyer returned from the hallway in the kitchen and ushered me out, like we were in a hurry.

“You’re probably right,” I say over the voice in my head yellingwrong!

Grayson shoots me a concerned look. “Then why did you leave him stranded at the valet stand? He was… concerned.”

I laugh. “You mean furious?”

His look turns pained.

“When we were leaving the restaurant, there was this woman valet with fresh lip gloss fixing her hair in the mirrored glass.”

“And?”

“I just got this feeling. Then we get in the car, and I saw Birch’s watch face. You know he tracks his heart rate and breaths per hour blah blah blah right? There was this spike in his heart rate, and whyelse would that be there? It wasn’t like he left the party to run a marathon.”

“Did you ask him?”

“No.”

He sighs, like he’s disappointed in me. I guess I am too. Because what if I had confronted Birch, and it somehow made it clear we aren’t the perfect match our families think we are?

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