Wild Reckless (Harper Boys #1)(52)

“You are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” he says, and all at once, I fall for Owen Harper.





Chapter 12





Beautiful.

Owen Harper called me beautiful. And then just as quickly, he was gone. I squeezed his hand tightly while the ride slowly brought us down to the ground to exit. We walked down the long, metal exit ramp, where Willow was waiting for me, her eyes full of questions, and when I turned back to find Owen again—he had disappeared.

Gone.

He does that. Just…goes.

His truck was nowhere to be found when Willow brought me home. His room was empty for the entire night. And he’s been away all day.

That’s why I practically race down the stairs at the sound of the basketball, and I’m not even disappointed when it’s only Andrew and House shooting the ball. They might be able to tell me something…anything!

Of course, my boldness stops stone cold as soon as House opens his mouth. “Ken Doll! Looking to hold hands with your boyfriend while you both eat cookies and drink milk and watch cartoons?” He’s saying everything in this overly-childish teasing voice, and I hate that it’s embarrassing me.

“Dude, don’t be a dick!” Andrew says, throwing the ball hard into House’s chest. I like Andrew more and more.

“What? You saw those two acting all junior high and shit last night. Don’t pretend like you weren’t making fun of them as much as I was,” House says, throwing the ball back at Andrew twice as hard, ricocheting it off his less-coordinated hands. Andrew scrambles to pick the ball back up and looks up at me sheepishly, guilty for enjoying a laugh at my expense. I forgive him because he honestly feels bad. House can eat it, though.

“It’s Kensi,” I say, looking beyond House’s broad body into the open front door and windows of the Harper house, wishing to see someone inside.

“Yeah, I’m not calling you that,” he says, spinning the ball on his finger a few times, a cocky smirk smeared across his face. I snatch the ball from his right hand and pull it under my arm. My heart is smacking the insides of my ribs as I realize how ballsy I’m being. I stare him down while he maneuvers a wad of chew in his mouth, spitting obnoxiously, the tobacco staining my driveway. I can’t help but revolt when he does it, and I let my disgust show. House isn’t any different from the privileged boys in uniform I used to have to deal with at Bryce. Instead of flashing his money around to intimidate me, though, he uses his size and masculinity. I bet it’s effective on others, and on girls who probably harbor secret crushes on him.

“Oh, Kensi. I’m just messin’ with ya,” he says, snatching the ball back from me and passing it around his body once or twice, his eyes squinted, waiting for me to react.

“Owen’s at work,” Andrew says, saving me from all this.

“Oh…okay,” I say, suddenly feeling awkward, like I no longer have a reason to be outside my house.

“You can hang out with me? I’ll show you a good time,” House says, sliding his giant arm over my shoulder, the material of his sweatshirt is actually damp with his sweat.

“I’m good…thanks,” I say, slinking out of his grip. His laugh is almost demonic as he tosses the ball back to Andrew and pulls his keys from his pocket.

“All right, but you’re missin’ out,” he says, walking to his truck near the curb.

“Am I?” I ask, my heart actually hurting with the anxiety coursing through my chest. House makes me nervous. Owen may think he’s harmless, but I’m not convinced.

“You let me know when you’re done playing footsies with O, and I’ll show you a real man,” he says, nodding to Andrew, then stepping up into his truck and roaring his engine loudly.

“He’s all talk,” Andrew says, bouncing the ball a few times to draw my attention back to him.

“Sure he is,” I say back, not believing it for a second. I know House’s type, and it’s entitled. Money has nothing to do with it. He just needs to know he’s not entitled to me.

“You like my brother?” Andrew says, and my throat burns with fear at having to answer that question. I can’t look at him, so I keep my attention on House’s taillights as he pulls away.

“We’ve become friends,” I say, my voice unsteady, unsure, and my mind flashing through the dozens of nights I’ve waited to see just a glimpse of Owen outside, my palm burning with the memory of the touch of his hand in mine. “Yeah…” I add, my voice even softer now. “I like him.”

“He’ll be home late tonight. But…he’d like to see you,” Andrew says, his foot kicking into mine, teasing me like a little brother should. I nod once and smile at him, and his smile is broad and satisfied.

I head back into my house and tiptoe up the stairs to my mom’s bedroom door. Her shift was late, and she’s been sleeping most of the morning, so I don’t want to wake her, but when I press my ear to the door, I hear her talking on the phone.

“We can talk, sure…but…not now. I’m not ready to talk now. I think I just need time,” she says, her half of the conversation piquing my curiosity about the other end of the line. I’m sure she’s talking to my father, and I don’t like that she’s talking to him. I want to cut him out of our existence, to just take a giant eraser to all he was and all he is, and I want to do that for Gaby, too. But then there are those memories, the few good ones of us as a family, home together, on holidays. And maybe we can only let in those small things, but keep everything else out.