Page 16 of Reckless

“I’m clean, Dad. I wasn’t rolling around in the barn or anything.” She huffs out a breath, but runs off wash her hands in thebathroom.

Motioning toward his wife, he gives me a crooked grin. “Don’t be too hard onher.”

I roll my eyes, and helaughs.

Once Kat and I are alone, my shoulders slump. “What are you doing? You know Ethan and I are like oil and vinegar.” Really, I can’t explain why I felt so defensive around him. It didn’t help that he was so handsome. Muscular and rugged from working on the ranch. Tatted up and shirtless with his Levi’s hanging low on his hips. Dripping wet with water andtemptation.

All the more reason to stayaway.

“Oil and vinegar are a great combo on salads.” When I give her a blank stare, she holds up her hands. “Just give him a chance to say his piece, okay? You don’t have to agree to work for him if you’re still not feeling it after dinner, but I think it would be nice to clear theair.”

“I get that you’re in this nesting period and want everyone to hold hands and sing campfire songs while you gestate, so I understand why you want this. But why doesheneed to clear the air? It’s obvious I’m not who he wants taking care of hiskids.”

Tilting her head, she shrugs. “Maybe he was having a bad day. Everyone has them. I just know you shouldn’t write him off because he was grouchy. He’s a single dad doing it all by himself, Tor. He has a lot on his plate, but if you give him a chance, you’ll see he’s a good guy. That he’s trying hisbest.”

Fuck. When she says it likethat.

My sister. Always thepeacekeeper.

“Fine. But just because I don’t stab him at dinner with the blunt edge of my fork doesn’t mean I’m agreeing to this, so don’t get your hopesup.”

“You know me,” she chirps. “Zeroexpectations.”

For some reason, that doesn’t make me feelbetter.

7

Ethan

Asmoky orangesun filters through the trees, washing the horizon in the waning daylight. My truck bumps along the gravel driveway until I pull to a stop behind two FordF150s.

Brady’s farmhouse isn’t tricked out like mine, but his is far more charming. More welcoming. From the warm glow of the living room behind that picture window to the porch swing, everything about this place sayshome.

Making my way to the porch, I recognize the improvements he and Kat have made over the years. New siding. Pretty planter boxes. A brand-new playset, complete with a winding slide and monkey bars for their daughter. And rows and rows of lavender bushes that stretch into thedistance.

When I reach the front door, I look down to make sure I’m respectable. Jeans. T-shirt. Boots. Sure, maybe I could’ve tried a little harder, dressed up more, but this isn’t adate.

Before I can think too long and hard about why I’m nervous, I wipe my sweaty palms down the front of myjeans.

Yes, this is fuckingweird.

Just gotta be nice to Tori, see if we can have a civil conversation. At least I can tell my brother I tried to make thiswork.

I balance the six-pack of beer in my arm while I knock. Brady said he felt like Corona tonight when I texted to ask what I could bring. Good thing I checked because I was about to get him some Sam Adams, since he’s from Boston and that’s usually what he orders when we hangout.

When Brady opens the door, the smell of chili and baked things I can’t begin to understand how to make waftout.

“Hey, man. Come in. Everyone’s in thekitchen.”

“Whatever you’re making smells amazing.” I hand him the beer and slap him on theback.

“I’d say thank you, but I didn’t have anything to do withit.”

We pass through the living room and into the modest kitchen. I wave to Kat and Izzy, who are sitting at the table, even though my attention immediately zones in on Tori, who is standing at the stove. Her dark brown hair hangs down her back in long waves, and she’s wearing cutoffs that make her ass look like a juicypeach.

My palms itch to feel those sweetcurves.

The thought isalarming.

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