Page 72 of Love Me Reckless

He slips off his stool and disappears into the shop.

My phone chirps from inside my purse. It’s my lead coordinator for Get Lit.

“Hey, Amelia,” I say.

“Sorry to bug you,” she says. “Darby and Clearwater libraries want in for the holiday giveaway. Is that okay? Can we get enough books by then?”

“I’ll make sure of it,” I say, calculating the remaining days before Christmas and our inventory. It’ll be tight, but I’m not turning anyone away. “Sign them up.”

“Okay,” Amelia says with a laugh, probably because she knows how crazy it is. “I’ll get them into the system.”

The guy from the back returns, his arms crossed and his face set in a scowl.

“Thank you,” I say to Amelia, and tuck the phone back in my purse.

The man points at a sign on the wall behind me. It’s a list of rules, and NO CELL PHONES is number one.

“I’m sorry,” I say over the rushing of blood to my temples. “I didn’t know.”

He gives me an impatient huff. “We don’t take sorority girls in here.”

Anger fizzles inside me. Though I’ve never set foot in a sorority, that seems beside the point. He doesn’t want me here. Because of how I look, or what he’s determined after our brief interaction.

“Thanks anyway,” I say, and turn for the door.

Outside, I gulp a breath of the winter air, forcing it down into my lungs. I feel the shop guy’s eyes on me, so I hurry down the street.

My phone chirps, and I snatch at it. “Hello?”

“Whoa,” Sawyer says, sounding alarmed. “You okay?”

Shit. I sounded like I wanted to bite his head off. “Sorry.” I inhale a shaky breath. “Hi.”

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he says in a soft voice.

I start to cry. Maybe it’s the endearment, or maybe it’s just the kindness in his voice. “I just got kicked out of a tattoo shop.”

“Where are you?”

“Pinedale.”

“Get to your car and send me your location.”

I swallow the thickening lump in my throat. “Why?”

“So I can find you, silly.”

Is it a bad sign that I already feel better knowing he’s coming? “Okay.”

Chapter Seventeen

SAWYER

When I pullup to Kirilee’s black BMW, she’s leaning against the back, huddled in her wool coat. She’s dressed up like she came from one of her Get Lit meetings, so it’s no surprise she’s shivering.

I jump down and hurry over.

She lifts her gaze, and the relief in her eyes is like a hit from a drug. I wrap her in my arms. She curls against me, and the feel of her safe inside my embrace brings my blood pressure down several notches.

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