Love Me Reckless (Love Me Dangerous #2)

Chapter 2

Chapter Two

KIRILEE

Whoa. Wrapping my legs around this brawny stranger feels weirdly intimate. Maybe it’s the solid feel of his body. Maybe it’s his big, rough hands around my thighs.

A tingle zips down my spine, but I shake it off.

“You’re Zach’s friend, right?” I ask him as we exit the kitchen. His thick, blond hair is shorter on the sides, like he trims it regularly. I grip his shoulders tighter to keep my fingers from wandering.

“Yep.” He glances back, but I only catch him in profile. “Sawyer.”

“Kirilee,” I tell him.

“I know,” he replies.

I fight my annoyance—it’s not his fault. I just wish I could be anonymous every now and again. To have the opportunity to meet someone new who doesn’t already know everything about me.

“Pretty. Does it mean something?” he asks.

The bar is empty but for a few servers and the bartender, all of them busy cleaning up.

“My grandma told me it’s the sound a rainbird makes.”

A guest from Zach’s party pops his head in from the deck. He’s tall, with broad shoulders and quick eyes, like he sees everything. Hunter, I think. “Hey, there you are.”

“Is Cooper still here?” Sawyer asks him. “We have a splinter emergency.”

“It’s not an emergency,” I protest.

Sawyer glances back to scowl at me. “You’re in pain. It qualifies.”

Hunter jerks his chin toward the deck. “Out here.”

Sawyer hitches me up a little higher on his waist and gently cradles my thighs. The callouses on his palms feel rough on my skin. Is that what’s making my breaths skitter in my throat? Or is it being the focus of his attention like this?

Outside, the sun makes me squint. I’m sure I’ll get a lecture later about too much sun making my cheeks blotchy and my freckles explode, but that’s a problem for another day.

At least Birch isn’t pestering me to leave. Maybe he got tired of waiting and left without me. I should probably feel dishonored or something.

From the grass where the remaining guests are playing football comes another tall guy. A woman with a beautiful flowering vine tattoo trailing down her shoulder joins him—his wife, if I remember right—with a first aid pouch tucked under her arm.

Sawyer lowers me to the edge of a picnic table. When he releases my thighs, a chill coils up my belly.

I lift my foot for Cooper, who cradles it in both of his hands and examines it. “You get this from the deck?”

When he probes around it, I jolt. “My shoes were killing me.” Surely I’ll be scolded for ditching my heels too. Just add it to the list.

“I’ll get water,” Sarah says and hurries off.

Cooper unzips the little kit and slides on a pair of blue latex gloves, then eyes me with a kind gaze. “It’s gonna hurt a little bit. ‘Kay?”

I lock eyes with him and tighten my grip on the edge of the table.

“Hey. You got this,” Sawyer says, his steady gaze drawing my attention. In the sunshine, his eyes are the color of rich, dark coffee, flecked with copper. He settles next to me at the edge of the table and places my hand on his thigh. “Squeeze this instead. Guaranteed no splinters.”

“We don’t need any more of those today,” Cooper says, focused on my foot.

“Ow!” I squeeze Sawyer’s thigh. Hard.

“Damn. Did I miss you tap dancing barefoot? This sucker’s in there.”

Under my skin, the splinter wiggles. I can tell Cooper’s got a hold of it with the tweezers.

“Big breath,” Cooper says.

I gulp in and Cooper tugs. My exhale and pitiful cry come out together, with my hand gripping Sawyer’s thigh like a vice.

Cooper holds up a half-inch chunk of the deck, still pinched in the tweezers. “Got it.”

“All of it?” I fight the woozy emptiness swirling inside my head.

Cooper squints again, adding pressure to the ball of my foot to make it flex. The hot pinch from the splinter is gone. “Looks like it.”

He drops the splinter into my palm.

“Ouch,” Sawyer says.

Sarah returns with a jug of water, and I manage to not pass out while Cooper cleans the wound and wraps it with gauze. “Soak it tonight in clean water and put on a new dressing.” He flashes me a collection of gauze and a tiny packet of ointment.

Telling him I don’t need his supplies is on the tip of my tongue, but I hold it back because I like his faith in me to care for myself.

“Probably best to curb the tap dancing for a few days,” Cooper says with a wink.

He packs up his kit and together, he and Sarah head inside, hands clasped. Before they disappear, Sarah laughs at something Cooper says and leans into him. He wraps his muscled arm over her shoulder and places a kiss on her temple. It’s endearing and sweet. I should quit watching.

“You okay?” Sawyer asks .

Heat rises up my neck as I realize I’m still gripping his leg. Quickly, I move my hand to my lap. “Yeah. Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

“I should probably find Birch.”

A shadow darkens Sawyer’s expression, but it’s gone just as quickly. “Why not come back with us? Pizza’s coming at six, and there’s a high chance of a brawl at some point.”

I give him a look. “A brawl? Why?”

“They’re brothers.”

“Why don’t they just talk to each other?”

He gives me a smirk, like he knows a secret. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“Tempting, but I turn into a pumpkin soon.” I drop to the grass, good foot first. The bandaged one is sore, but I can walk. Though first I need to find my shoes, lest I be seen walking barefoot.

“Kirilee,” Birch calls from the deck. He strides down the steps, my heels dangling from his index finger, my jean jacket clutched in his other hand.

“You don’t have to go with him.” Sawyer’s rich brown eyes lock with mine.

I give him a sad smile. “I do, actually.”

Sawyer tilts his head like he’s waiting for more.

“Thank you for keeping Kirilee entertained,” Birch says to Sawyer, squatting to set my heels in front of me.

“Where’d you go?” I slip into my shoes. Birch offers his arm for me to grasp, and I wish I didn’t need it. I feel weird, like my face is buzzing.

“I went looking for your shoes, of course.”

Sawyer goes totally still beside me. I risk a look from under my lashes while I strap on my shoe to see him sizing up my date the way a snake might assess an unsuspecting rodent.

“Great,” I say, purposefully slipping between Birch and Sawyer.

Birch offers me his arm and though I’m reluctant to take it, I do.

“See you,” I tell Sawyer.

“Yeah.”

Birch and I walk alongside the building to the sunbaked parking lot. At the valet stand, a woman with fresh lip gloss and a high ponytail glances up. She pops a little white mint onto her tongue and gives me a smile.

“Here you go, sir,” she says to Birch, striding to our waiting car.

Birch opens the door for me, and I lower into the seat, tucking the hem of my dress beneath my thighs. The brush of my fingertips over the place Sawyer’s rough hands cradled me just minutes ago pulls me back in time.

Why was he in a rush to get out of the kitchen?

I remember him promising me a friendly paramedic who tells good jokes, but now…

I glance at the valet stand, where the woman is smoothing back a strand of her hair using the mirrored glass in the building behind her.

Birch opens his door and lowers into his seat. He drops my jean jacket on the console, then reaches up to grip the wheel. The motion pulls the cuff of his dress shirt past his watch. It lights up with the movement, flashing the display and the many metrics he tracks.

Birch is a champion polo player, runner, and rarely sleeps more than five hours a night. He likes monitoring his daily peak heart rate, and I’ve grown used to seeing the number in the top left corner because he sometimes brags to people about it. One time I saw him checking it after we’d had sex.

But he didn’t run or play polo today. He hasn’t even kissed me today.

I reach for the door before I know I’m doing it.

“Kirilee, what are you doing?” Birch asks, slamming on the brakes.

My eyes lock with the woman valet turning away from the glass of the building.

“I’m going to stay a little longer.” I snatch up my jacket and step out of the car.

“The party’s over.” When Birch is annoyed, he does this thing with his jaw, like he’s pressing his teeth together, but his mouth is still open. It’s not exactly a sneer, but lately, it’s been making me mad. I know it’s wrong to think that way about the man I’m supposed to marry, but I can’t help it.

From the side of the building, Sawyer, Cooper, Sarah, and the others emerge in a pack, heading for the parking lot not serviced by the valets.

Sawyer glances over his shoulder, and our eyes meet.

I break away only to give Birch what I hope is a confident smile. “I know.”

“But how will you get ho?—?”

I shut the heavy door on his protests, and then hurry past the valet stand to catch up with Sawyer and his friends.

“Does your offer still stand?” I ask Sawyer when I reach him, breathless.

He glances past me, and I turn. Birch is standing next to his car, his door wide open. The engine is still running. Another car has pulled up behind him, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“Fuck yeah, it still stands,” Sawyer says in a low tone.

I reach down and tug off my shoes. If I was really brave, I’d toss them to the weeds. “Great.”

A wicked brightness flashes in Sawyer’s eyes. “On one condition.”

The last strap gets momentarily stuck, and I almost topple over, but I catch myself. “Name it.”

“You’ve gotta like pepperoni and olives.”

“Pepperoni and olives happen to be my favorite.” I gather the heel straps of my shoes with one finger.

Behind me, a car door slams.

I don’t look back.

Sawyer’s group splits into two and everyone piles into identical SUVs. I stick to Sawyer’s side like glue. He ushers me into the back seat, then settles in beside me as I melt into the bench with a sigh.

“Where’s this pizza place?” Cooper says from the driver’s seat .

“Just follow Hunter,” someone in the middle row seats says.

“And step on it,” Sawyer says, giving me a wink. “We’re aiding and abetting.”

A young woman in the middle row seat glances back, a curious grin on her face. “What are you running from?”

“My future,” I say with a sigh.

By the time we get to the vacation rental, an expansive two-story home facing the lake with an adjacent pickleball court and hot tub, the scent of pizza and the zippy banter filling the vehicle have made it easy to downplay what I just did and how I’m going to explain it later.

We all pile out of the SUV in a cloud of sound and the scent of tomato and basil and oven-warm dough, the evening air brisk off of the lake. When I slip on my jean jacket, my phone is lighting up my pocket. I have a pretty good idea who’s trying to reach me, and I’m not ready for that. I follow the party inside.

While everyone pounces on the food, guilt starts to nag at me, so I slide out my phone and text my brother Grayson.

I’m okay

Good. Where are you?

With some of Zach’s friends

You ditch Mr. Zero?

I cover my laugh. My brother likes to poke fun. There was a time when Grayson resisted Birch and his Net Zero proposal for Finn River Ranch, but we all have come to terms with it.

I think it’s happening again

Shit. Call me for a ride later

I give him a thumbs up and pocket my phone, ignoring the notifications from Birch and my dad.

“You okay?” Sawyer asks, fixing me with a serious glance. “I can take you home whenever you want.”

“You promised me pizza and debauchery, and I’m not leaving until I get them.”

Sawyer’s lips twitch with the hint of a smile. “Right this way.”