Page 72 of Reckless
“Yes,” I said, “but then he backed up my story. He was an alibi, Mom. At least the police aren’t trying to pin their murders on me—”
She sighed. “Oh, yes, thank heavens for that.” Mom could not have sounded more unimpressed if she’d tried.
Nothing I said would make her switch to my side, so I simply shrugged. “I don’t know what else to say, Mom, but I do have to go.” Before she could say anything else, I went to hug her and gave her a small kiss on the cheek. Something I didn’t often do, but it worked: she stayed quiet, and she let me move around her to the door.
The sun was out, and the weather was warm. For a nice spring day, I didn’t even need a jacket. I’d settled on a long-sleeved shirt and jeans, along with my studded ankle-high boots. My long hair was free, and the wind tousled it as I headed to Jacob’s car and got in.
Mr. Grumps did not look too happy, but I guess I called him Mr. Grumps for a reason. When he opened his mouth to speak, I wanted to punch him. Seriously.
His voice came out low, rumbling in his chest, “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Oh, God,” I whined. “Did you and my mom have a meeting when I wasn’t looking? Yes, Mom, I’m sure. I’ll be fine.”
Jacob narrowed his hazel stare, his frown deepening. The sleeves on his button-down shirt were rolled up to his elbows, and I did my best not to pay attention to his arms. For some reason, a man with rolled-up sleeves was like kryptonite to me, so ridiculously sexy.
“I’m only trying to keep you safe,” he muttered, putting the car into gear and driving us around the winding driveway to the gate, which sat open, waiting for us to leave.
That was everybody’s excuse for being overprotective, wasn’t it? Just trying to keep me safe. Well, sure, I wanted to be safe, but I didn’t want to trade all of my freedom for that safety. As far as I was concerned, adult life was a drag, full of responsibilities and bills to pay every single month with no end in sight. Now was the time when I should be living it up.
“I know,” I said, picking at my nails on my lap. “And I appreciate it. I just…I’m not the kind of person who could stay locked up in a house forever, you know?”
“You’re stubborn as fuck,” Jacob spoke with a frown, shooting me a glare as he made a left turn. He knew where we were going; he already knew the directions by heart. Must’ve memorized it earlier.
“And you’re lucky I love that filthy mouth of yours.”
His glare softened a bit, and for a quick, split second, Jacob actually looked uncomfortable. He scratched the back of his neck, eyes on the window beside him instead of me. Maybe it had something to do with that L-word. He seemed to get uncomfortable anytime it was mentioned—or maybe it had to do with the fact that he’d pretty much confessed his love for me while balls-deep inside of me, right after I told him I wanted to continue seeing the others.
“I do,” I said, knowing I had a button to metaphorically press. I did so love pushing Jacob’s buttons; he was fun to rile up, and even more fun to laugh at while he was fuming. “I love that mouth, Jacob. Love, love, love.”
“Will you quit it?” he asked, acting like we weren’t alone in the car, like my mom or Ollie would pop up at any given moment and say ah-hah! Gotcha!
“Quit what? Quit saying the word love? Why?” I acted innocent, pretending not to know what his deal was when it came to that word. “You got something against the word love, Jacob? That’s funny, because you had no qualms about saying it when you were—” Whatever else I planned on saying died in the back of my throat when one of Jacob’s hands left the steering wheel and landed on my leg, squeezing hard.
“Jaz,” Jacob whispered, his rough voice causing a shiver to course down my spine, “shut. Up. Now.” He put ridiculously long spaces in between each word to emphasize his point, and I took the not-so-subtle hint.
Pouting, I muttered, “All right, all right, Mr. Grumps. I’ll shut up. Message received.” Even though I took to silence after that, Jacob’s hand didn’t leave my leg. He kept it there during the drive, only taking it off once we reached Archer’s house.
Archer’s house didn’t have a gate or a fence around it; it was just a mansion built on a well-kept property. Nowhere near the biggest house around, but not quite the smallest, either. When Jacob pulled up to the door, I threw him a look as I went to undo my seatbelt.
“Please tell me you’re not coming in,” I all but begged. I wouldn’t know how to explain to Archer and his mom, provided she was having a good day, why Jacob had to follow me around. Archer knew, but his mom? His mom had enough things to worry about when she was lucid; I didn’t want to add to it.
And, as far as I’d heard from Archer, she was doing okay today. If he’d woken up and she’d been terrible, we probably would’ve had to reschedule.
“I kind of want to,” Jacob admitted, “just to annoy you like you’ve annoyed me. And to stop you from doing anything stupid with that boy.” For whatever reason, when Jacob called Archer a boy, I didn’t like it. Jacob used the word as an insult.
“Hey, I’ll be stupid if I want to.” I would’ve leaned over and kissed him, but I knew he would’ve thrown a fit. In the end, I simply got out of the car, gave him a wink and a wave, and headed to the front door all by my lonesome. I texted Archer that I was here, and then I hit the doorbell for good measure.
A woman I didn’t recognize answered the door, giving me a smile as she invited me inside. Middle-aged, with a tight bun of brown hair on the top of her head. Judging from her smocks, she was a nurse—maybe a home health aid for his mother.
“You must be Jaz,” the woman spoke, offering her hand. “I’m Melinda. I take care of Bernie.” Bernie was Archer’s mom. “We were in the kitchen making cookies. Want to join us? Archer should be down in a minute.”
Because I had nothing else to do, and because I was curious, I nodded and followed her to the kitchen, where a blonde woman stood, humming as she rolled out dough right onto the granite countertop. Flour was everywhere, even on her face. Her blue eyes looked up immediately, landing on me as a smile grew on her lips.
I couldn’t help but feel warm inside, knowing she was having a good day. I wished every day she had was good, that she could be a mother to Archer instead of someone he had to bend over backward to make sure got the care she needed.
Brittany. Brittany had used her condition to her advantage, lording it over Archer’s head with the knowledge of what his dad had done. The bitch. I knew I’d wanted payback, but even I wasn’t that cruel.
Bernie stopped rolling, rubbing the back of her arm on her forehead—and thereby smudging even more flour on her face. “Hi there,” she said, moving around the counter to get a good look at me. “So you must be the girl who’s stolen my son’s heart.”
