Page 18 of Reckless

She turned slightly, smiling when they locked gazes. “Hey there. Come cool your toes. It’s a warm night.” Harlow patted the place next to her and he eagerly took her invitation, letting his hip brush hers as he rolled his pants up and joined her.

“Doing okay? We’ll probably be leaving soon. I’m sure you’re tired.” He found himself thinking about her comfort frequently.

She lifted a shoulder. “It’s nice out here. Smells good. I’m surrounded by people but also just steps away I can be by myself.”

“I should have come to look for you sooner.”

“I’ve only been alone for like five minutes. Nora was out here with Malorie. They just went inside before you came out here. Plus someone named Tim chatted me up.”

Miles sent her a sidelong glance. “Chatted you up?”

“He was nice. Flirty. Offered to show me around tomorrow.”

“Are you messing with me?”

She tipped her head back on a laugh that caressed his skin. “Are you surprised?”

“No. You’re gorgeous and you smell good and people like being around you.”

“That and you’ve been chatted up more than once that I’ve seen,” she teased.

“Regardless, I know for a fact you didn’t seeanychatting back.” It made him grumpy that anyone would hit on her when she was so obviously meant to be there with him.

“That’s because you have very good taste, Miles.”

He certainly did. After some painful lessons, but there she was, a reward for coming through it and out the other side. “And are you going sightseeing tomorrow?”

“I told him I was interested in someone else. He still offered to take us on a hike if we wanted though. I thanked him but said we had other plans.”

Oh. Well, that was a good thing.

“Good idea. Tell me something else about yourself. You said you always wanted to make music. But how did you get from there to here?” Miles asked.

“I started doing session work while I was still in high school. Lots of kids there had gigs in the entertainment industry. You went to an arts-based school too, right?”

They’d shared that in common as well. “Yes. Plenty of kids, especially in my junior and senior years had outside gigs in local or even national theater programming. I was able to get credit when I went on the road with my dad. That was pretty sweet.”

“Okay so you get that part. I began to make a career for myself. Build my professional reputation apart from being Richie Martin’s kid. I have my own talent,” she told him, sounding a little defensive.

Maybe more than a little. It sounded very much like she was speaking from a place of painful experience.

“No argument from me. I come from a whole fucking family of talented musicians and artists. I know what it feels like to need to prove you’re succeeding in your own right. And I know firsthand how talented you are. It’s why you’re on our tour.”

He wanted to lay her down on the grass just beyond and kiss her under the stars. He wanted her inso many ways. It was so reckless but there it was. He wasn’t going to wait. If he were to admit it, he hadn’t really considered it. The only thing that would stop him from pursuing her at that point was her telling him to stop.

He cocked his head and quirked up the corner of his mouth. God. His mouth. He was just so much. Dark brown hair, longer on top. Thick with caramel highlights in the sunshine, she’d learned the week before. His eyes were green like his father’s, but more hazel. They shone in the lights strung all around the trees and gave him the type of filter effect people on social media would scramble for.

Harlow then tried to pass off a raw truth as a joke, “I might be a little sensitive on the subject of my success and ambition.” She flapped a hand. The one he’d been holding.

And he…he took it back, drawing it to him and kissing her knuckles and then her wrist before letting it go. She held it there, stunned for moments. He watched, carefully, assessing. Making sure she was okay with the direction their interactions seemed to be taking.

He took her hand back, again, this time tucking it between his.

“It’s okay to be sensitive about something that’s important to you. I get it. I can tell you all day just how talented you are, but it’s more about here,” he tapped his chest, over his heart with his free hand, “than here.” He pointed to his brain. Tell me more about you,” he said quietly.

Behind them, sounds of happy people filtered from the house. Laughter, singing, music. It was a pleasant, comfortable sound and an excellent part of an excellent night.

Harlow cleared her throat. “After high school my dad had begun to be very serious about the woman he’d been seeing, Jenna. I stayed back in California when he toured by that point. Continued session work and then I sold a song. Little bits and pieces that helped me build some savings so I could move out when Jenna and my dad got married.”

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