Page 10 of Love Me Reckless

“It’s a family name.” Mom said it was fate.Even your names fit together. You’ll be his little bird, coming home to roost.

“It’s a tree.”

I cover my mouth to keep from laughing. Sawyer’s so… matter-of-fact. If he has a filter, he doesn’t use it very often.

“Why do you do that?” He tilts his head, like he wants to see me better.

I give him a puzzled look.

“Cover your mouth when you laugh.”

“I don’t know.” I lean back on my hands.

“You afraid?”

His tone is more curious than accusatory, but still, the question is personal. “I don’t mean to be.”

“What’s holding you back?”

The answer isn’t something I can say out loud, so I gaze up at the stars. The lights from town make stargazing difficult, but I spot the Big Dipper and Cassiopeia, which is my favorite because she never sets. She’s always up there, on her throne, watching over the others.

“Are you going to take the job?” I ask.

“Should I?”

If he’s annoyed I didn’t answer his question, I don’t hear it in his voice.

“It’s a good job. Excellent benefits. You can get housing too, but it’s only a bed in a dorm, so unless you’re into community living with a bunch of ski bums, not recommended.”

He shrugs. “Hey, if it’s cheap and the heat works, that’s good enough for me.”

I can’t tell if he’s joking. “The winter hours are kind of brutal, but you get a ski pass. Some guys take the job just for that.”

“Zach told me Finn River Ranch is your family’s business. You work there?”

“No.” I swirl my shins.

He nods, but his eyes stay fixed on me, like he’s waiting for more. I am not usually so forthcoming with strangers. But Sawyer—withhis calm brown eyes and his full-belly laugh—somehow doesn’t feel like a stranger.

“I manage a nonprofit, and…” I pause, then wish I hadn’t. Why am I so nervous to say it out loud? “…I’m an artist.”

“Cool. What kind of art?”

“Ceramics. Mostly for fun.” I wish I could wipe the tension from my voice. My dad isn’t here to put me down or remind me of my place.

“Why else would you do it?” he says with a lazy smile, like he’s teasing, so I give him a little splash with my toes.

He jerks back, a motion which makes his torso muscles practically ripple, their hard edges sharpening into long, lean lines. I definitely shouldn’t stare, but wow.

“What’s the nonprofit?”

It takes me a moment to find my train of thought. “Supporting libraries in rural Canada and the U.S.”

“Libraries, huh. You like to read?”

I narrow my eyes. Is he messing with me? “Don’t you?”

“We’re talking about you right now.”

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