Page 4 of When We Were Reckless
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
Mason shrugged. “Just checking. If he’s ever caused you any trouble—”
“He hasn’t,” I said quickly. “I’m cool with it.”
“He’ll be helping Holden in the brewery.” Holden had a degree in Biology and was the head brewer. He loved nothing more than to experiment with hops and fermentation processes.
I was the odd man out, the only one in my family who wasn’t a massive foodie or a beer lover. Not that I’d ever tried more than a few sips of beer.
“Great. Sounds good.” Mason looked like he was waiting for me to say more or fill him in on Ridge’s character. But since I didn’t know Ridge, I had nothing to add.
I highly doubted that it would work in Ridge’s favor if I shared what I did know about him. Man whore. The life of every party. He was the guy who always knew how to score the alcohol and drugs. Or so I was told. Not that he did drugs. But rumor had it that he was a supplier.
He’d shocked everyone when he’d not only made it on the football team but had been one of the best wide receivers in the history of Cypress Springs High.
The cheerleaders used to fight over who got to do his homework. That was his superpower. He didn’t even have to lift a finger. All he had to do was swagger down the hallway, and girls were falling all over him.
“I’m sure he’ll be good at….” I waved my hand in the air. “Carrying oak barrels and stuff.”
Mason gave me a funny look.
“He’s big. And he looks strong. I mean, he’s a baller, so…” I shrugged.
“Yeah, okay.” He was still giving me a weird look, but I ignored it.
I couldn’t think about Ridge. All I could think about was Jesse. Was he devastated? Heartbroken? Why had he retired from the sport he loved?
So many questions. And there was only one person who could answer them.
Chapter Three
Quinn
Jesse lived in a treehouse.He bought it a few years ago. A retreat from his busy life on the road. But he’d never really lived in this house, except for a couple of months during the off-season. He’d lent it out to friends, though.
For a while, Mason had lived here. I’d heard that Jesse was thinking of selling it so he could buy a house in California. But now I didn’t know what he was planning to do with it.
The house was romantic, though. Timber-framed with a wraparound deck overlooking the woods in the back and the river from the front. He had land too—acres and acres of trails for off-road riding.
The last time I was here, it was Christmas Eve. Which also happened to be my eighteenth birthday. Right after Christmas, he left Texas, and I hadn’t been face-to-face with him since.
On Christmas Eve, something had happened, though. For me, it had been magical, but to him, it obviously meant nothing. So I didn’t know why I was here tonight. Eleven o’clock was too late for a social call.
I peered at his house through the windshield. The lights were on. My heart raced, nerves and excitement making it beat triple time. He was home. He was still awake. He hadn’t invited me, but I wanted to be here for him if he needed me. I just wanted to make sure he was okay. Because how could he be?
Taking a deep breath, I got out of my car, and I climbed the wood staircase. Up and up and up.
Pine from the Cypress trees scented the air, the night air balmy as I bravely, foolishly followed my stupid heart up the stairs and across the cedar deck. My heart was in my throat, my pulse pounding in my ears. I felt like I was going to throw up.
Just breathe, Quinn.
It had been five months since I’d seen him up close. Five months since I’d breathed in the scent on his skin that had made me dizzy with wanting and longing.
Sucking in a deep breath and squaring my shoulders, I lifted my hand, and I knocked on the wood door.
Oh God, this was a terrible idea. I should turn around and leave. Get back in my car and drive home. But my feet were rooted to the spot, and I couldn’t move. So I just stood outside his door with my shaky hands clasped in front of me.
Moments later, the door opened, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
