Reckless(79)

“I scared you?”

I nod, glad he can’t see the heat traveling up my face. “There you were, this really handsome, intense guy.” Closing my eyes, I can see him that day. The way those stormy blue eyes pierced through me. The way our chemistry pulsed in the air like a live current. “You were dripping wet from washing off in the kitchen sink, flashing those abs and tattoos. A girl would have to be dead, dumb, or decapitated not to be attracted to you.”

His quiet chuckle makes me shift around to face him.

“You think this is funny? That I thought you were so hot, I probably subconsciously sabotaged the interview because I didn’t want to work for someone I was into? That, deep down, I liked the fact that you were pissed off that day? That I couldn’t decide if I wanted to slap you silly or ride you next to your commercial range oven?”

He groans. “Option number two, please.”

“Shut up. You made me break my man diet.” I laugh and smack his arm, but he catches my wrist and pulls me down until I’m resting on his chest. “Do I win? Does my ex’s crazy trump Allison’s?”

“You definitely win.”

The way he kisses me makes me grateful I couldn’t stay away from him.

Maybe the worst is behind me and the best is yet to come. If Ethan is a part of my life, I’m becoming more optimistic about those odds.





44





Tori





I’m folding a green jumper embroidered with tiny frogs when my Aunt Imelda sits primly next to me and folds her hands.

“Isn’t this a lovely shower?” she asks, her intention as obvious as the gun-toting, hooded thief who screams, This is a robbery!

“Yes, tía. It’s perfect.” No dildo cakes. No mis-gifted sex toys. No embarrassing games. My mother must be delighted. Although… my cousin Natalia melted chocolate candies in diapers and made everyone sniff them to guess the candy. That’s gross, right?

Forcing myself to smile, I try to be grateful. My sister got a beautiful shower. She was happy, and that’s all that matters. I won’t retaliate with laundry hijinks.

My feelings are still a wee bit hurt, but I’m an adult. I can be mature. Isn’t this what people call a “learning experience”? And today, I’ve learned you have to get to the front of the line for the cake because that shit goes fast.

Aunt Imelda elbows me while her unibrow wiggles like an angry caterpillar. “So when are you going to settle down and marry a good man? You’re not getting any younger.” She points to the corners of my eyes like I’m an old hag.

Jeeesus. “As soon as I pay off my attorney bill from that time I almost got a felony.”

My mom chokes on her sparkling soda.

What? If I give Imelda a civilized answer, I’m giving her positive reinforcement to be an asshole.

I don’t think my mom hears my internal dialogue because she gives me scary eyes, the ones that make me grateful I’m out of reach.

Ugh, I need to get out of here. I always revert to a teenager when I’m around my family.

Of course, it takes ten years to clean up after the party—thanks, cuz, for not helping with that—hug everyone, and trudge to my car.

By the time I reach Ethan’s gravel driveway, I’m in desperate need of an alcoholic beverage, preferably something so strong you can light it on fire, especially when I see Allison’s sleek black Lexus parked in front of the house.

Motherfuckity.

I consider backing out, but she’s standing on the porch with Ethan and the kids, and they see me.

When I catch the time on the dashboard clock, I let out a curse. Why didn’t I realize I might run into her? It’s Sunday evening, the time I usually hide from the harpy.

When they shift around, probably as bewildered why I’m showing up now as I am, I’m startled by how much they look like a family. All beautiful and tan with dirty-blonde hair and big, blue eyes, the kind of perfect people you see glossing the covers of magazines in the grocery store.

Reluctantly, I park my junker next to her import, and it rushes through me—how much I hate this comparison. I’ll never be Allison with her designer clothes and French manicures. I know Ethan doesn’t care about that stuff, but it’s hard to feel confident next to someone who looks like his ex does.

With a quick glance in the rearview mirror to make sure I don’t have raccoon eyes, I smooth down my sundress and slide out of the car. Hey, I tell myself. At least this time I’m wearing underwear, and I’m not half-naked and hungover in the back of Ethan’s truck.

Ah, gallows humor.

Ethan’s attention zeroes in on me like a shaft of sunlight. His eyes connect with mine, travel down my dress, pausing on my cleavage, dip down to my legs, and make a slow lift back to my face. I can’t help but smile at him.

“Hey, guys.”

The kids immediately grab my legs and try to scale me like a mountain.

Allison huffs, ignoring me altogether. “Can I invite my parents or not?”

Ethan shifts awkwardly, running a hand over his scruffy chin. “Didn’t think y’all would want to come, honestly.”

Her chest heaves. “You thought I’d miss my own kid’s birthday party?”

“I thought you’d do something for Cody with your family.” His voice is calm despite the hellishly awkward vibe in the air.