Page 12 of Reckless Temptation

She hadn’t even put much enthusiasm or energy into her words. No real annoyance or trouble. Emotionless.

“Goddammit,” I whispered as I ran a hand down my face. She had to be spiraling to act this distant and aloof. After my dad died, she explained that she grieved alone. That she liked her space to do so. She never pushed me away, and she was a strong woman to comfort me after we lost him, but I never forgot how she emphasized her preference for solitude.

But what if this is going too far?

What if she needs help?

What if she’s letting things slide so she can wither into nothing?

I scowled, hating that possibility. She was all I had left. And if her aloofness impacted her marriage with George, where would we end up then? Homeless?

Stuck in limbo was a good place for me right now. But not her.

I took the package, not wanting to bother her when she was still keeping up the farce that she was okay.

Back on campus, I tried my best not to let my dark mood consume me. I’d drop off this stupid package then kill some time at the studio. Diego wouldn’t be there. And I could use the solitude to figure out what to fix on my latest series of paintings. Art wasn’t my calling. It wouldn’t be a stable job, but while it was intriguing me, even a little bit, I’d ride with it.

I regretted not checking with Mom where George’s office was, though. After twenty minutes of walking around and checking all the wrong hallways, nothing looked familiar. I’d seen George at his office before. He was my stepdad, for fuck’s sake, not a stranger. I wasn’t avoiding him completely even though I couldn’t summon the willingness to invest any energy into getting to know him more than I already did.

“Would it kill them to put up a fucking sign or something?” I muttered as I walked past a corner that I had already seen.

No arrows.

No maps.

Pompous, self-righteous legal freaks.

Rubbing my hand over my face as a tension headache lurked closer to the surface, I groaned and pivoted to head down another corridor.

But I didn’t finish turning.

Someone crashed into me.

A wet someone.

A short, curvy brunette bounced back as her soggy books and notes flew out all over the floor.

“Watch where you’re going.”

“Watch where you’re going.”

I blinked, stunned that we’d said the same thing at the same time.

I’d muttered it darkly, peeved.

She’d scolded it haughtily.

I narrowed my eyes, in no goddamn mood for some hoity-toity law student to try to bitch about my being in her way.

“If you looked where the hell you were going, this wouldn’t have happened,” I added as she dropped to the floor to gather her things.

She hurried to collect her stuff. “If you weren’t covering your face as you spun wildly?—”

“I didn’tspin wildly,” I protested, pissed now.

Who the hell did she think she was, telling me this wasmyfault? If these lawyers could put a damn map up, I wouldn’t have been lost at all.

Even though she kept her head down, her long, wet hair draping low and shielding most of her face, I caught how she opened and closed her mouth. An annoyed exhale left those plump lips instead.

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