Page 21 of Love Me Reckless

Guilt spreads deep in my belly. The last thing I want is to worry them. They endured enough of that during the three-and-a-half hours I went missing when I was five years old. My mom had anxiety attacks for a year after that and still has sleep problems. My dad became a workaholic.

I barely remember the encounter. A nice man picked me up from kindergarten, took me to get ice cream, then let me ride a carousel as many times as I wanted. Then a policeman arrived with my parents. I never saw the man again. Six months later, we moved to Finn River, and Dad built the high-security membership-only Finn River Ranch so they would never have to worry about our safety again.

Birch stands, his narrow face freshly shaven and his sharp eyes edged with concern. Though is the concern for himself, or for me?

He leans in, his hand on my arm, and kisses my cheek.

When he pulls back, his nose is flared in disgust, like he’s smelled the barn on my skin. I almost laugh but catch myself just in time.

One of the servers arrives to take my order while another serverpours coffee from a silver carafe and sets a pitcher of cream next to my cup.

“Thank you,” I say with a smile. The woman smiles back.

Dad checks his watch. “You need to apologize to Birch.”

My skin jumps. I glance at my mom. She’s dressed in a soft pink silk shirt that hangs loosely from her thin frame. Her rosy lips purse slightly, like she’s ready to back him up.

I pour cream into my coffee and give it a slow stir with the teaspoon. Then, I lift my cup to my lips and silently count to three to slow my racing heart while I take a small sip.

“Where did you go last night?” I ask Birch, not looking at him.

“After the party? Home, of course. Worried sick, I might add.”

I give him a thoughtful glance. There’s no way he’s going to admit any wrongdoing in front of my parents, and since I don’t have proof, I need to play this right.

“Worried?” I sip my coffee again, too fast, but the burn in my throat is like a lance to my soul. “All because I wasn’t ready to go home?”

“The manager at the Bitterroot Club said you made a scene,” Dad says. His sharp eyes bore into me like lasers. “Explain why you left your fiancé standing in the middle of the valet area. Grayson said you were with a group from the party. Who are these people? You know how dangerous that is.”

I study Birch’s expression. There’s no remorse there. No pleading for forgiveness. Do I have this all wrong?

I set down my cup. “They’re Zach’s friends from Alaska. They came to see him get sworn in yesterday. They rented a house on the lake.”

“So, it was a party?” Dad’s tone sounds choked. “Why, Kirilee?”

“Am I not allowed to make friends? To attend a party if I feel like it?”

“Not alone, you’re not,” Mom snaps, that worried look in her eyes again. “You know this.”

She’s right. Being the daughter of a successful exclusive resortmogul means I am more vulnerable than most people. My kidnapping from Hamilton Elementary is proof.

“They’re good people,” I say. I have to at least get this out before I quit. “One is a cop. The other is a federal agent, and another is a medic. I think I was safe with them.” I leave Sawyer’s name out because the last thing I need is him landing on Dad’s radar.

“And we all know what your judgment is worth,” Dad says, pushing back his chair to stand. “We trust Birch.”

I exhale slowly. This hurts, but it’s not the first time, and a part of me has always wondered if it’s true.

Dad leans to kiss Mom’s cheek, then he moves to me. “I’ll be back for the wedding shower.” He pats my shoulder. I force myself to look at him, and he gives me a curt smile. Then he hurries inside.

Our breakfast arrives, but I’m no longer hungry.

After,Birch drives me back to my bungalow. It’s rare that he takes time off during the day, so I must have really got his attention last night. I roll my window down to let in the fragrant breeze.

He pulls to a stop in front of my bungalow and glances at it through my window. “Once you move in, I was thinking this would make a good office space. I could have the upstairs redone into a gym.”

“I like my place,” I say as alarm bells blare in my brain.

His soft gaze turns puzzled. “But you won’t need it.”

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