Page 52 of Reckless
“How do you have it already?”
He clears his throat and then says, “I put it into my phone that night.”
I blink. “That night?”
“Thatnight.” The word drips with innuendo. There’s no mistaking what night he’s talking about.
“You took my number without asking?”
Pink tinges the top of his ears, and he has the sense to look a little chagrined. “Figured I’d need it someday.”
I don’t know what to make of his revelation, and truthfully, don’t feel equipped to deal with it. I opt to forge ahead, leaving whatever complicated shit that is in the rear-view mirror. “So...you were just going to wait out here until I, what? Checked my mail?”
A deep rumble rolls in his chest and he smiles. Fuck, his smile is blinding. “I don’t know, Winter. I didn’t have a big plan. I grabbed you a coffee and decided to figure it out from there.”
He holds one hand out to me, steam wafting up through the hole in the lid. “Got it in town. Thought you might need one as much as me.” The corners of his eyes pinch, and I recognize how tired he appears. His golden skin has blue smudges beneath his dark eyes, and the stubble on his jaw has grown a little longer than his usual curated scruff. “It’s just an Americano.” He gestures the cup to me again.
I take it, realizing I’m staring at him, wondering why he’s bringingmecoffee.
“I didn’t know what you like.”
I stare down at the lid, almost teary over the fact he’shere. Even though I dropped a bomb on him last night, he’s bringing me coffee.
“Other than tequila and doggy style—fuck.” He swipes a hand through his perfectly tousled hair. “Sorry. Can you say something so I stop making awkward jokes to fill the silence?”
I peek up at him through shrink-wrapped eyes. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
His brow furrows and his face shows genuine confusion. It strikes me as unusual how he wears his heart on his sleeve, the way every emotion and thought almost prints itself on his face.
“Winter, I think we’ve been through this once before. You keep looking for some ulterior motive with me, and there isn’t one. Can I come in? I want to see...” He pauses and clears his throat, like it’s still a struggle to say this out loud. “Vivi. I’d like to spend some time with her and talk to you some more.”
With a nod, I step aside and usher him in.
For a normal meeting.
A business meeting.
* * *
Watching Theo hold Vivienne for the first time does a lot of things to me. First, it makes me want to hurl in much the same way he did last night. There’s something profoundly overwhelming about seeing his eyes latch onto hers while her small hand wraps around his finger. “Hi, baby girl,” he murmurs. “It’s so nice to meet you.”
The sweet cooing noise she makes back at him, like she’s an instant goner for this man, makes me want to cry. And Inevercry. It’s just not my thing. It’s pointless, and I always feel tired and bereft afterward—not better.
But when I can seehimgetting emotional just looking at her, holding her in his arms so naturally, it hits me in a way I never, ever saw coming. He stands and bounces gently, walking toward the big bay window that overlooks the front street.
He turns them toward his yard. “That’s where I live. Right next door. So, if your mom says it’s okay, I could come visit now and then.”
I sit on a stool at the kitchen island and try to remember the last time I just sat and drank a coffee that was still hot. Not hot out of the microwave, but truly fresh. I feel like I’m in this constant cycle of not having anything specific to do all day, yet the day goes by so damn fast.
Cooking, cleaning, sleeping, entertaining, snuggling, nursing, socializing. It seems like it should be easy. I work in chaos for a living, but this is so much harder.
Which is why I cannot, for the life of me, account for the way my body reacts to the sight before me. Theo was already hot as fuck, and Theo holding a baby is even hotter. If he goes out in public with Vivienne, he’s going to get more pussy thrown at him than he already does.
And somehowthatmakes me irrationally jealous.
“Look how beautiful you are.” The sun lights Theo and Vivienne’s faces in the same warm, golden hue. “You look just like your mom.”
Vivienne stares up at him and giggles, small hands reaching for the stubble on his cheeks, squealing when it rasps against her palms.
