Page 143 of Reckless Hearts

The three of us, tangled and half-dressed in a too-warm motel room, moving around each other like we’ve done it a hundred times.

I’ve just thrown my hair into what I’d say is a semi-decent ponytail when Maverick calls from the front door. “Let’s go, you two.”

Colt grins conspiratorially at me and purposely slows as he finishes brushing his teeth. I swear these two will do anything to get under each other’s skin.

“Come on, Princess.” The rumble of Maverick’s voice is thick in the small bathroom

Colt chokes, his own blush happening. Not quite used to this new form of attention from his former nemesis.

He finishes brushing his teeth, sighing. “Let’s get this over with.”

“You’re acting like you’re heading to the gallows.”

“I might as well be. I’m going to a press conference while injured, only one ride away from the championship. The reporters are going to go for blood.”

We stop for gas just off the highway, one of those half-abandoned places where the pumps are sun-faded and the ice chest outside is held together with duct tape. Colt hops out to start fueling up, his ball cap tipped low over his eyes.

Maverick climbs out too, grabbing a squeegee, and starts scrubbing bug guts off the windshield with the intensity of a man avenging his family.

I leave them to their manly nonsense and head inside for slushies and Twizzlers, the kind of fuelIactually care about. The air-conditioning inside is working overtime, the cold biting after the sun, and the floor sticks a little under my sandals as I make my way to the candy aisle.

I’m halfway through the checkout when I notice the shift. I smile at the cashier after finishing paying and head out, pausing just a few steps outside with my bag of snacks, sipping my slushie like I’ve got all the time in the world, watching the wholething unfold with the kind of calm that comes from dating two incredibly hot idiots.

Three girls hover by the pumps now, trying for casual but giving themselves away with every wide-eyed glance and whispered nudge. I clock the recognition the second it lands before they’ve even made it halfway across the lot.

They’re cute. Confident. The kind of girls who know how to turn heads without breaking a sweat. Crop tops and glossy lips, denim shorts and practiced ease. Not a single one of them looks flustered to be standing in front of Colt and Maverick.

I don’t blame them. They’re both stupid hot. It’s practically unfair.

But when one of them steps forward, all lit up with excitement, and lays her hand on Colt’s arm,that’swhen something in me tightens.

I’m not the jealous type. I swear I’m not.

Still, the way she leans in, lashes lowered, full of soft-lipped flirtation… yeah. That’s the exact moment every molecule of my girls’ girl energy ends.

“You’re even hotter in real life,” she says, her voice going up half an octave.

Colt blinks, startled. He shifts his weight and glances around like he’s trying to be polite about it, but I can already see the tightness in his neck.

Maverick spots me over the hood, frozen mid-swipe, his eyebrows hitting his hairline. He tilts his head like,You seeing this shit?

I lift a single brow.Handle it.

Oh, he does.

He drops the squeegee with aclunk, walks straight across the lot like he owns the pavement, and before I can even breathe, he’s got a hand curled around Colt’s neck, pulling him in.

The kiss is… emphatic. Slow. Territorial in a way that’s not even a tiny bit subtle.

Colt’s eyes go wide for half a second, and then his whole body sinks into it, hands fisting in Maverick’s shirt like instinct. Like home.

Gas pump forgotten. Flirty girls officially invisible.

I make my way over, enjoying the view, and place myself between them and my guys.

A shocked gasp bubbles up from behind me. “Wait… are they dating?”

I turn, lean against the wall, and take a long, loud sip from my straw. “Jealous?”

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