Page 62 of Recklessly You
“You’re not my girlfriend or wife. You’re just—”
“What, huh? Your friend with benefits? Your sleeping buddy? Your slut? Just the girl warming your bed? The one to give you a release, right? Isn’t it what all men say? You know you’re no different from Eric. He treated me like I was just his ragdoll.”
He swallows hard as his Adam’s apple bobs. I glare at him in disgust and pain, shooting in every direction. I step beside him, walking toward the trail and returning to the ranch house. I’ll call for a rideshare. I’m sure someone can find me out here.
“Sophie,” he calls out in a raspy voice.
My heart hurts—the pain of a thousand bee stings. Maybe I pushed too hard. I swear, all I wanted to do was make him feel better—make him feel alive. I’m not trying to fix him like a broken doll. I lo…nope, I can’t say it. It will make it real, and he wants nothing more. My eyes sting with the unshed tears.
You’re not my girlfriend.
“Sophie, wait,” he calls out, but I keep my feet moving evenly through the tall spring grass. My footsteps crush the grass and dry leaves, the sound echoing in my ears as I trudge forward, determined to reach the distant ranch.
Minutes later, he catches up to me with Monkey. “Sophie, hop on.” His voice is soft and velvety.
I shake my head. “No, thanks. I’ll walk.”
He sighs and jumps off the horse. He walks beside me in silence. For several unspoken minutes, I feel him cast a glance my way. I don’t turn to acknowledge him. His words hurt. They made me feel as if I’m not important to him. We make it up a gravel dirt path. You can see the horse stalls and ranch from a distance.
“I was six years old when my dad died. That night, my mom stayed home, and my dad wanted to take me out to eat. A gang leader murdered my father that night.”
My head jolts up as I glance at him, but he’s looking straight ahead. I stay silent and look at my feet as we walk.
“My dad was a detective. My mom told me he had accepted a position with the DEA. I’m not sure why they came after him.” He clears his throat. “There’s more, but I can’t right now, Sophie. I’m not ready to talk about the rest. I went through therapist after therapist as a kid, and I couldn’t talk to anyone.”
He was just a baby—only six years old. My heart aches for him. I wish I could take the pain right out of him.
“I understand. And thank you for telling me. I’m sorry for your loss,” I say.
He stops, scans my profile, and shuffles his hand into his hair. “I’m sorry about what I said. You’re not any of those things. I can’t offer you more, Sophie. Not right now, or maybe ever. Just give me time, please. I like what we have right now.”
I want to agree, but it would be a lie. Iwantmore. Why continue something that will never go further? “It’s better if we sto—”
He covers my mouth with a kiss. “Don’t say it,” he says in a strangled voice. “Just give me some time, please.” Past the pain in his eyes, there’s desperation. He’s pleading with me.
“Okay,” I whisper, not understanding what he means by time. We make it back to the ranch. Liam removes the saddle from Monkey and then brushes him. We drive back in silence until we arrive at his house.
“At least we know the truck runs great,” I say, breaking the silence with a lame joke.
“Uh-huh,” is all he says.
Pulling out my keys from my purse, I peer up at Liam. “I’m going to go to my place to feed the stray cats.”
The statement is not entirely untrue. I do need to feed them. But more than anything, I need to take some time alone to reflect and think. Does he even understand that, based on what we’ve been doing in the past weeks, wearein a relationship? Maybe he doesn’t want to acknowledge it, or he doesn’t wantmethat way. And I can’t stop wondering if the reason he doesn’t do relationships is because of that girl Crystal.
She and I are the only girls he’s ever slept with more than once. Did something happen that left him incapable of moving on? All reasons why I need to go home and think, take a breather. Maybe it’s his past and not Crystal that means he needs distance between us. He made a huge leap in telling me something so personal. I’m proud of him for that. I want more than he can offer, so I know there’s a huge chance I’ll get my heart broken.
“You want me to go with you?” He’s watching me. He nervously runs his hand through his perfect black hair. The awkwardness envelopes us.
I fiddle with my keys. “Umm, no. It’s okay. I’m just going to feed them really quick and grab my clothes.”
“You have clothes here. I just did the laundry.”
Yup, he did my laundry, hung my skirts, blouses, and dresses in his closet, folded my undies and bras, and placed them in the dresser—another reason why I’m falling in lo…nope, not saying it.
“I know, but I still need to feed the cats.”
He nods and leans in to peck a kiss on my lips.
