Page 10 of Reckless
Summer hustles over to me, her cheeks all rosy. Her smile so sincere.
And she says nothing. She just flings herself at me and wraps her arms around my neck, burying her head in the crook of my neck. Soopenly affectionate.
I’m not used to it. I didn’t expect it. So, I stand a little woodenly before hugging her back. Her body softens and a small sigh leaves her lips when I do.
“I am so happy you’re here,” she whispers to me.
And I’m glad no one can see my face right now because I’m scrunching it up furiously. Doing everything I can to keep from falling apart in the middle of another family’s holiday gathering.
That would be overly dramatic. And I’m not big on dramatics. I just put my head down and get shit done.
Reconciling with my sister needs to get done. So here I am.
“Me too,” is all I can say back before she pulls away, one hand on my shoulder while the other wipes at her big brown doe eyes. They’re the same shape as mine, but a different color.
We both have our dad’s features, but I took after our mom’s coloring.
“Hi, Winter!” An older man crosses the kitchen, wiping his hands on his pants, which makes the clean freak in me wince a little. “I’m Harvey Eaton. Rhett’s dad. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
He sticks a large palm out at me, and try as I might, I don’t find a single shred of judgment on his face. I don’t know what kind ofBrady Bunchshit is happening on this homestead, but it throws me off.
“Uh, hi,” I reply a little tentatively as I take his hand. “Thank you so much for allowing me to crash your dinner.”
The man makes apfftsound and waves me off. “You’re not crashing a single thing. This is a family dinner. You’re family. And so, if my math is right, you’re right where you should be.”
I swear my jaw drops open. Who is this guy? Cowboy Ned Flanders?
He smiles. Like...a nice, normal smile. Not one that has me second-guessing what the actual intent behind it is. Then he walks away. Back to whatever he was cooking, like having me here is normal and not at all bizarre or monumental.
Family?Maybe this Harvey Eaton fella is already in the sauce. Because Summer and I haven’t felt like family in a very long time. And I haven’t met a single other person here, except for—
“Here.” An elbow nudges at my arm, and I smell him before I even give in and look at him. Oranges, fresh and sweet, mixed with something spicy. Cloves? Ginger? He smells like mulled wine.
It’s intoxicating. It’s masculine. It’s not bright and tart, and it doesn’t sting my nostrils.
My eyes shift over before my head turns. And I can see his hands, rough and calloused, like I guessed. Big and warm.
A glass of wine in each of them. One red, one white.
“Double fisting tonight?” I tilt my head, quirking one brow at him. “That tracks. You drive like you already were.”
One side of his sinful mouth tips up, and I’m struck by the realization that Theo Silva knows how good looking he is. He probably practices his angles in the mirror. “We already have so much in common. That’s exactly what I thought when I was stuck behind you for the most boring ten minutes of my life.”
The smile I give him is flat, intentionally bored, as I lift a hand and inspect my nails. If I could go for a manicure, I’d get a warm brown. I don’t care if it’s Christmas. Red is too showy. But it doesn’t matter because the hospital doesn’t allow us to have painted nails anyway.
“Well, now you have a window into how women feel in your presence.”
“Is that why they screamOh Theo, this is so boring!when I’m inside them?”
I snort and gaze up at him, blushing a little at the knowing look in his eye.
It’s unnerving. He’s unnerving. So I volley. Hoping I can wound him enough to make him leave me alone.
“They just tell you that so you’ll finish and stop flopping around on top of them.”
“Do you think? Maybe we could arrange a time when you can instruct me on how to flop less. I do love to practice.”
My eyes narrow into a glare.
