Page 92 of Reckless
Winter:In Chestnut Springs?
Theo:Yeah.
Winter:In your house?
Theo:I could pitch a tent in your backyard if you prefer. Invite you over for a campfire and tequila. ;)
Winter:Not ideal. Someone shitty could move in next door. I could end up with an even worse neighbor than you.
Theo:And who knows if he’d mow your lawn for you the way I do. Pretending to garden would be boring and pointless without me to watch.
Winter:I do not watch you.
Theo:You only ever garden when I’m mowing the lawn.
Winter:How do you know?
Theo:Because I’m watching you back.
* * *
Aloud squeal pierces my ears as Peter slides across the hardwood floor like he’s Tom Cruise inRisky Business. Vivi has an alarmingly strong arm on her. From her spot on the floor, she wails on the rubber chicken, whipping it across the living room while Peter gives chase.
When he rushes back and drops the squeaky toy at her feet, she slaps her chubby hands together and laughs. Peter’s tongue lolls out the side of his mouth from where he’s had teeth removed. He’s so excited his eyes seem ready to roll right out of his head.
“He really is horrific if you look at him for too long,” Loretta murmurs, before taking a sip of coffee. “Theo found him on the street while on vacation in Mexico. Fed him some taco meat, and the rest is history. Refused to leave the country without him. Rescheduled his flight and everything.”
I snort. The man has a thing for strays.
From my sitting position on the floor of the living room, I watch Theo walk across the room in a way that should be illegal. He’s wearing light-wash jeans and a white T-shirt while carrying a plate of oatmeal cookies. Ones he baked fresh—because of course he did.
His outfit couldn’t be plainer, but I can’t take my eyes off him. I’m taken back to the days he shows up to mow my lawn, without a shirt. While he taunts me with his muscles, I pretend to garden and creep on him from behind my sunglasses.
It’s been a week since he laid me out on the gym bench and made a meal of me. I’ve worked out alone since our escapade, but he always swings by at the end when I’m stretching.
He crouches beside me and whispers, “Excuse me, ma’am. Did you sanitize that bench right there?” while pointing atThe Bench.
I scowl.
He winks.
And we part ways.
We’ve fallen into a rhythm, even though we haven’t expanded upon that night at all. There’s a lot going on. His mom is here. He’s working at the gym while he rehabs. I’m barreling toward my little sister’s wedding, where I’m not a bridesmaid. I’m a fucking maid of honor.
A role I keep trying to give to Willa, but that bitch only laughs at me.
So, Theo and I continue to circle each other. We’ve developed a sort of kinship. My place, his place. We go between them, and so does Vivi. So does his mom, who’s taken it upon herself to be the warmest, most helpful human I’ve ever met. Theo definitely inherited his infallible brand of kindness—the easy smile and gentle touches—from her.
So why do I hold back?
It’s because he told me there hasn’t been anyone else since that night. It’s that fucking coaster tucked in my bedside table. Sometimes, I pull it out just to stare at it.
It’s physical proof he liked me even then. Proof that he isn’t full of shit, like every other man in my life. That he’s thought of me since that night. That Vivi and I aren’t the burden in his life I seem to think we are.
Who knew a shitty, stained coaster with both our scrawling signatures scribbled across it could upend my carefully curated boundaries so thoroughly?
I’m not sure how to act around him anymore.
