Page 1 of Reckless

Prologue

Tori

Ablush creepsup my skin as I gun my car through the quiet neighborhood intersection, my clunker’s obnoxious rattle garnering a dirty look from a suburbanmom.

Whatever,lady.

I can’t afford to fix that problem now, especially not after I bought my boyfriend’s birthdaypresent.

If it weren’t so hot inside my deathtrap of a car, I’d be jumping out of my skin with excitement to see Jamie. But I’m trying to conserve my energy for our horizontal activities. Although he’s not supposed to be home until tomorrow, I overheard my boss, who’s friends with Jamie, mention that my guy might be back today, and I thought I’d surprise him. It’s his birthday after all, and I have the perfect gift, something I’ve been saving up for weeks toafford.

When I see Jamie’s Bronco parked in the driveway of his house, I slow my beater and pull up to the duplex across thestreet.

My legs are stuck to my seat, and I slide my hands down my bare thighs below my cutoffs to dry the sweat. As soon as I open the door, a blast of cool air hits me, and I sigh with relief. Austin in early May is still relatively cool and breezy. Thank God, because my car windows don’t roll down, and the air conditioning died long before I got thisjunker.

Reaching into my messenger bag, I grab Jamie’s present—two tickets to see the Texas Rangers play next month. He’s always traveling to Dallas on business, and I thought it might be fun for us to gotogether.

I wrestle the balloons out of the back seat and skip up the pristine walkway to his two-storycolonial.

Pride fills me as I take stock of how much he did to the property. This place was an eyesore when he bought it a few months ago, but after replacing the roof, stripping the interior to the studs, and replacing the appliances, it looks brand spanking new. I don’t know how he parts with these investment properties because it would break my heart to sell this gorgeoushouse.

An image of me and Jamie flashes behind my eyes. A vision of us starting a family. Of kids and more birthdays and barbecues in the back yard. I mean, I haven’t decided how many children I want or their names, but I’m pretty sure I want them withJamie.

Two months ago, I’d laughed off his suggestion that we should get married because we were both drunk, but I can’t lie—I want the white picket fence with himsomeday.

Yeah, he’s a little older than me, but what’s an eight-year difference in the grand scheme of things? Besides, he’s not all judgy about me struggling withschool.

I want to get serious about figuring out my life, which is why I need to keep my shit together long enough to graduate from the University of Texas in a few weeks. Most of my friends seem to know where they’re going and what they’re going to do. Me? I’ve operated on the party-now, plan-later mindset, but that only got me an academic warning, mandatory tutoring sessions, and a run-in with lawenforcement.

So I’m trying to buckle down. Do the smart thing. Study and whatnot. God knows school is not my thing, but I’m almost done, thankfuck.

When I ring the doorbell, I’m beaming the biggest, brightest smile, but a second later when he opens the door, he frowns, his dark hair falling into his deep browneyes.

“Happy birthday, babe!” Ignoring whatever weirdness is going on, I throw my arms around his neck. “I missed you.” He smells so good. Like spicy cologne andman.

“Tori.” His arm comes around my back in a stiff hold. I wait for the passionate kiss. For him to rip off my clothes like he usuallydoes.

Except he just standsthere.

What’s goingon?

I lean back and look at him. He’s stillfrowning.

And then he glances down at hiswatch.

“Late forsomething?”

You’d think he hadn’t been gone for two weeks. I know we’ve only been dating for six months, but he’s given me jewelry—real jewelry, not that costume crap—and says he wants to marry me someday. Hello, he spoons me after sex sometimes. That has to mean something, right? And he usually makes me come. He’s probably batting in the high .400s, and my trigger does not go off easily, so I’d say these are goodsigns.

But before I can ask him why he’s being weird, he ushers me into the house. I turn and find him peering down the driveway, his dark eyes shifting from one side of the street to theother.

He clears his throat and closes the door. A muscle twitches in his jaw. “Sorry, hot stuff. I’m meeting a contractor in a bit. Wasn’t expectingyou.”

Relief washes through me. “No worries. Thought I’d stop by on my way to work. I have anhour.”

I waggle my eyebrows at him, and he nods, glancing at his watch again. “That should be enoughtime.”

For me to rock your world? Oh,yeah.

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