Page 57 of Reckless
And then he swaggers out the door, like that’s a perfectly normal thing to say.
* * *
I need to clear my head. So, I take Vivi out for a walk in her stroller. We hit the park and I push her in a swing. Once she’s had her fill, we stroll down main street.
I’m so zoned out that I end up walking right past Hamilton Athletics, where I may or may not sneak a peek through the front windows at Theo working out. He’s wearing his sling, but it doesn’t make him look inept. It’s more like he can do lower body and balance exercises with one hand tied behind his back.
Every line on his arms shimmers with perspiration. His body is firm, coiled—a machine.
Who knew bull riders had to be sofit.
But I amnotgawking. I’m just out clearing my head after the shock of the last couple of days, which is why I turn the same shade as a strawberry when he catches me standing in the middle of the sidewalk on Rosewood Street.
Sipping a coffee and gawking at him like a brain-dead bimbo.
I give my head a brief shimmy and turn to keep walking. I’ll pretend that little moment didn’t happen at all. It’s just the baby-brain. I zone out all the time now.
It has nothing to do with Theo Silva.
And definitely nothing to do withthat night.
And now, I’m irrationally annoyed with him. Because when I sneak a final peek over my shoulder to see if I got away with it, he’s still standing there smirking at me.
Hewinksat me.
The absolute gall of this man to come waltzing back into my life and wink at me. Like no time has passed at all between now and when we saw each other last. Like it’s not insane to flirt with me openly, as though I’m something more to him.
I storm back home, flustered by his confidence. Rattled by his presence. Annoyed that he’s not only a great lay, but a shameless and persistent flirt.
With no boundaries.
The sight of a woman standing at his front door with a gift bag in hand stops me in my tracks. I watch her ring the doorbell and check her teeth for lipstick in the reflection of the front window.
Figures.
As she waits, she shifts the bag between hands, seeming a bit nervous in her painted-on jeans. One hand tucks a loose strand of perfectly blown-out light brown hair behind one ear.
She knocks, then waits again. When he doesn’t answer, she tries to peer in through the front bay window, still looking around like he might be hiding from her.
His dog doesn’t even bark.
Then she turns and glances back at the front street. I don’t even register with her, but she does for me. She’s the girl from the rodeo. The one with tears streaming down her face, who was ready to crumble when she saw Theo on the ground.
She’s pretty. Really pretty. She’s fit, and she doesn’t appear exhausted or chaotic like me. Theo and I haven’t covered this ground yet, but it makes sense he’d have someone.
I mean, fucking look at him. Of course he would.
Except he winked at me. And he keeps smirking at me like he’s replaying when he licked tequila off my—
“Do you know if Theo Silva lives here?” she calls out to me.
“Yup,” I reply with a thin smile. For all the hard work I’ve done on becoming a kinder, less judgmental person, I take one look at this girl and hate her.
“Is he home?”
“Doesn’t seem to be.” I try to make my voice sound peppy as I unlatch the white picket gate at the front of my house. It’s a dumb question though.
Obviously, he’s not home. Or doesn’t want to see her. Those are her two options, but she’s asking a stranger.
