Page 25 of Reckless Temptation

“Nick, can we chat?” he asked as he sat in a chair he pulled out from a table on the patio.

It’s not like I have a fucking choice, huh?

I sighed, grabbing a towel. “Sure. What’s up?”

Don’t bite the hand that feeds.

Don’t fuck up your life any more than it already is.

“I wanted to see if you’ve given any more thought to your future.” He splayed his hands out, almost like a laidback shrug.

Fuck me now.

I sighed, standing behind a chair instead of dropping into it. Gripping the back of it tightly, I reined in my temper. My anger had no damn outlet anymore. The only time I felt more balanced was when I poked and prodded at Sabrina, teasing and taunting her to make Tiffany think I was trying to ruin her and humiliate her. Listening to George pontify on how I was going nowhere with my life wasn’t going to help.

“No, George,” I bit out. “I really fucking haven’t.”

Without giving him a chance to reply or lecture, or anything else, I stormed off and left.

I couldn’t stay here and listen to him tell me how I was wasting my time in college. I didn’t want to hang around where my mom would try to insist that all was well.

After I showered and dressed, I got on my bike and rode around until my head was clearer.

Something about the hard rev of the engine beneath me and the feel of the ocean air rushing at my face soothed my soul. It wouldn’t fix me. Nothing would anymore.

But riding my bike without any destination in mind almost tricked me into thinking I wasn’t wasting away. That instead of being stuck, I had a blank canvas to fill in.

Hours passed, and eventually, I slowed down in a poorer side of town. To my right, the Gulf offered waves and the warm, balmy breeze I’d never tire of.

Once I stopped my bike completely and straddled it near a small park with a busy playground full of kids, I sniffed and felt my stomach clench with hunger. I’d planned to eat after my swim, but that was hours ago.

I was starving now, and the rich scents from a taco truck lured me off my bike.

Ignoring the signs that said the food truck was there as a fundraiser for the food bank it was parked in front of, I got in line to get something that would no doubt be more flavorful than anything in a restaurant around here.

As I waited, I scanned my surroundings, smirking in surprise when I spotted none other than Sabrina fucking Rosario back there. She was in the garage with the open door that offered people to come get containers of food from the bank.

She was right there.

Smiling. Laughing. At ease and so relaxed that I had to wonder if she had a clone.

But it was her.

Not in a blouse and skirt, trying to fit in as a professional and a serious, dutiful law student.

Not in grungier, casual clothes as she tiredly trekked to the library for a late night of research.

I’d only ever seen her on campus. Tense. Polite. So rigid and proper and obedient.

Here, in a white tank top that contrasted with her smooth, golden skin and short denim shorts that showed how slender her legs were, she looked… normal.

Fuck.

I realized with a sucker punch to the gut that she lookedhappy.

Someone cleared their throat behind me, prompting me to move up in line. I was so stuck on Sabrina that I hadn’t paid attention to the line moving at all.

Sabrina was joking around and grinning at two older people. They had to be her parents, Melody and John Rosario, from what I’d learned after snooping for information about her online. They resembled each other. The way she’d hug her mom and rest her cheek on her dad’s shoulder demonstrated how close of a family unit they were.

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