Love Me Reckless (Love Me Dangerous #2)

Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

SAWYER

“Here?” I ask, tapping the tip of the shovel to the grass.

“A little to the left,” Kirilee says, squinting. She’s wearing sneakers, wide-leg jeans that hug her curves like a dream, and an ivory-colored shirt with flowers that’s tied at her waist. Her long hair is pulled into a high ponytail that cascades down the middle of her back in silky waves. In short, she looks good enough to throw over my shoulder and haul to my cave.

I shift to the left a step. “Here?”

“Yes, but you aren’t digging the hole for me.”

“You’ve gotta supervise.” I sink the shovel through the thick layer of grass to the soil beneath. “It’s a very important job.”

She gives me a little smirk.

I sink the shovel again and drop the dirt in the pile next to it. “Did you design that yourself?” I nod at the mini house with the two shelves and the glass door in the back of her open hatchback.

She wrinkles her nose in a grimace. “It was a kit.”

“Nothing wrong with that.”

“I don’t have a way to cut the wood myself.”

I bite back an offer to do it for her. From our conversation in the hot tub that night, it’s clear that tackling this herself is important. “You could probably ask the hardware guy to do the cuts for you when you buy the wood.” I move around the hole, widening it a little more.

“That’s a good tip,” she says.

I stand to the side and lower the shovel so she can see the depth. “This what you have in mind?”

She walks over and peers down, giving me a quick hit of her scent. It’s like rich cocoa, or maybe cinnamon, and not at all what I expect. Her open shirt collar gives me a view of the freckles disappearing down her neck.

A cocoa fragrance and freckles should not make my dick twitch.

“You think it can go a little deeper?” she asks.

I take a step back and rub my neck. “Uh, sure.”

Thankfully, she turns for the back of the SUV.

I dig another few inches, willing my imagination to simmer the fuck down.

“That should do it,” Kirilee says, bear-hugging the post and shuffling toward me. I grab the underside of the little house and together we lower the post into the hole.

Then I hold the library upright while she examines from all sides. “It’s perfect!”

While she holds it steady, I start repacking the dirt into the hole, tamping it down with the shovel handle every few inches.

“I think I have a place for my community art center,” she says in a quiet voice, like it’s some kind of secret. “It’s a house on the other side of the elementary school. It was a preschool for years. Run by a pair of retired schoolteachers.”

“Sounds promising.” I dump in another bit of dirt.

“It needs a lot of work though,” she says with a grimace. “With winter coming, Birch said?—”

“What kind of work?” I don’t mean it to come out harsh, but I don’t give a fuck about what Branch thinks.

“Insulation for the garage and adding some plumbing for the pottery studio. Electrical in the house. Ripping up the carpet, painting.”

“That’s all interior. You can do that in the winter.”

She gives me a thoughtful glance. “Right. I can do the cosmetic stuff, but the rest I need help with.”

“I can take a look at it,” I say while tamping the dirt all around the post. “I’m no contractor but I know the basics.”

Her eyes light up. “That would help me so much.”

“Sure thing.” I try to wiggle the post, but it’s solid. I fit the jagged pieces of the grass turf back together and tamp them down too.

Kirilee steps back, her eyes bright. “It looks so good!”

“Now for the books.” I lean on the shovel handle.

“Right!” She moves to the back of her car, leaning into the hatch. I shouldn’t drink her in or imagine how her silky ponytail would feel in my fist, or how good the curve of her waist would feel in my hands as I slowly sink inside her, but once the thought takes hold, I can’t think of anything else.

“Steamy romance, right?” Kirilee laughs, dragging a box of books to the edge of the hatchback. Her ponytail falls past her shoulders as she flips through the books. “Maybe some YA and middle-grade adventure books too, for the younger readers?”

To distract myself, I open the little library’s glass door and sweep the interior with my fingertips, clearing the grit from the shelves. Then I remember The Princess in Black and the goat-rescuing Princess Magnolia, up in my room. “Be right back.”

It takes me a minute to dig through my piles, and by the time I return, Kirilee is sliding books onto the shelves, a look of concentration on her pretty face.

“Library-warming-present.” I flash the cover.

Her eyes light up, like I’ve offered her something precious. She flips through the pages, the story drawing her in. “The illustrations are amazing. Where did you find it?”

“A little girl on the ferry. I think she left it for me.”

“That’s so sweet. You should keep it. ”

“Let’s give Princess Magnolia a wider audience.”

Kirilee presses the book to her chest and smiles. “Okay then.” She slides the book into place, then turns to me. “I have something for you, too, actually.”

I shoot her a curious glance, but she quickly reaches into her car and lifts a thick book. “I know it’s big, but I promise it’ll be worth it.”

I’ll make sure of it. I force my mind from the gutter and lift the tomb from her hands. The flashy gold cover with a dragon in black ink behind the boldface title doesn’t give me much to go on, but right now, I don’t care. She bought this for me.

“Looks like I have some reading ahead of me this winter,” I say, ignoring the knot in my chest.

“Since you were so curious about spicy dragon romances, this will give you a taste.”

A taste, huh? Just say the word.

With a laugh, I give her a little bow. “Thank you.”

“Do you have time to see the property I found?” She bites her lip and winces with one eye shut, like she’s bracing for me to say no. “The open house goes until six.”

“Sure,” I reply. “Let me just put away my bike.”

When I wheel my mountain bike into the garage, Carson pokes his head from the mudroom. “I’m doing tacos tonight. You okay with spicy beans?”

“Sounds great.”

“You’re welcome to invite a guest.” He pumps his eyebrows.

“Thanks, I’ll ask her.”

“Cool.” His gaze lands on the giant book I set down on the workbench so I can hang my bike from the empty hook next to his. “You gonna read that whole thing?”

I laugh. “That’s the plan.”

He glances down the length of the garage to Kirilee’s SUV. “Whoa… is that…?”

“Kirilee? Yes. ”

His eyes widen. “You either have the biggest set of gonads this side of Texas, or you have rocks for brains.”

I give Kirilee a quick glance but thankfully her attention is on her little library. “It’s not like that.”

“Uh huh.” He slips back inside.

I’m tempted to keep the book with me or go hide it in my room. But this isn’t the foster home or that ramshackle group house I lived in while I was with the railroad. I don’t need to worry about my stuff going missing or getting locked out on purpose or having to fight so I don’t get fucked with.

I give the cover a quick caress, then head back to the curb.

We climb into Kirilee’s SUV and I pretend like it’s not the first time I’ve been inside a luxury car. The tan leather seat cradles me like a glove and the dash and console are tidy and shiny and once the door shuts, it feels like a tank. I’m sure there are a hundred airbags in this thing.

“What’s on the agenda for your bachelorette party?” I ask.

She turns right at the light, and we pass the elementary school and the ball field as she talks. “We have two suites at the Shore Lodge in Darby. We even get our own private hot tub and fire pit. Sofie and Ava are planning a spa trip on Saturday morning. We’ll go to dinner and walk around downtown. It’s supposed to snow but the ski area there isn’t open yet or we could go skiing on Sunday.”

I try to hold in my grimace, but Kirilee glances my way, frowning. “What?”

“I, um, don’t ski.”

“Oh.” She turns left again. “But you’re from Alaska, right? Doesn’t everyone ski up there?”

“Not everyone.”

“Forgive me,” she says, shaking her head. “I didn’t mean it like that. Sofie doesn’t ski. Come to think of it, I don’t think Zach does, either.”

“Yeah, it’s not a big thing where we’re from.”

Kirilee nods. “If you want to learn, I can teach you. ”

I scoff, and she arches her eyebrows. “Are you doubting my abilities?”

“Not at all.” More like doubting my ability to resist her. “I… don’t want the guys to find out.”

Realization dawns on her face. “Oh. Yes, I see.”

She parks in front of an avocado-green single-story home with an attached garage that I’m guessing has more square footage than the house. Because it’s a former preschool, there’s a parking area in the back. The realtor’s white SUV is parked in front and the lights are still on inside the house.

“Yay, she’s still here.” Kirilee jumps out.

Inside the house, it smells like old newspapers and the floor creaks. The realtor’s eyes go electric when she sees Kirilee, hurrying over from where she’d been perched at a card table spread with flyers, glossy business cards, and an iPad.

“So nice to see you again,” the woman says, her brisk footsteps nearly silent on the faded carpet. “Hello,” she says to me, extending her manicured hand.

“This is my friend Sawyer,” Kirilee says.

As she shakes my hand, the word friend rattles around in my mind. I’m honored she thinks of me that way… but it kind of stings too. Because I’ve crossed that line a hundred times in my head since that night in the hot tub.

“Let me walk you around,” the woman says with a pleasant smile. While she rattles off the house’s traits and perks, I tune her out and make my own quiet assessment. The floors, walls, windows. It’s easy to see this as a preschool. There are two main rooms, a kitchen, a smaller room I’m betting was an office, and two bathrooms. One looks newer, like it was added to accommodate the higher occupancy once it became a preschool.

The garage is newer and spacious, with big windows down one side, but it’s just a box, no insulation. The plumbing will need a major upgrade before it can be a pottery studio, and if she plans on mixing chemicals for the glazing, I will insist on a safety hood for fumes. If she’s going to be firing pottery, that might be an issue with the outdated electrical. Not a deal breaker, but I would want her to get a real electrician out here. I pull out the flyer the woman gave me at the start of the tour.

No fucking way is this house worth what they’re asking. Did she make up a special flyer for Kirilee, knowing money is no object? I fold the flyer and stuff it back in my pants pocket.

“Thank you,” Kirilee says to the realtor.

“You’re welcome. Let me know if you have any questions.”

I give her a nod of thanks, then follow Kirilee out the door. Once we’re in her car, she’s practically bouncing up and down. “What do you think?”

“I think it has major potential.” I glance at the house, and through the window, the realtor is packing up her things into a briefcase. “The plumbing won’t be too hard as long as the system is solid. You’ll want to check for any history of pipe issues or backups, ‘cause that would be a disaster, and really expensive to fix. The wiring is old and outdated. You will need a pro because that shit is complex and the last thing you want is some student getting zapped by just turning on a light switch, or throwing the circuit for the neighborhood every time you run the kiln. Then there’s the flooring. I think you should get someone under the house, to check the foundation. Or maybe that’ll come out in the inspection.”

Kirilee rubs her palms up and down the steering wheel, her face tense. “Those are all really good points. You think I shouldn’t buy it?”

I shake my head. “Not necessarily. What else is on the market?”

She gazes out the window, her face thoughtful. “Not a lot. This is the best location, and the roof has been approved for solar panels, which is important to Birch. The parking is a big plus. And I love the garage space. It’s perfect for ceramics.”

The mention of douche date and solar panels throws me for a moment. Why does he get a say in her project ?

I lean back into the seat and give the house a long glance. “So, what you’re saying is it’s the one you want?”

Her green eyes turn troubled. “It could be. If I hold out for something else, it might take too long.”

This sounds ominous, as if she’s taking our previous conversation literally. Like if she can’t get it done before her wedding then it won’t happen at all. “Then offer her about a third less than what’s on that flyer.”

She shoves her fingers between her thighs. “I’m not good with negotiating. I don’t like upsetting people.”

Obviously. “You don’t want to pay for more than it’s worth, do you?”

She groans. “No, but…”

“And you’re going to need to put money into fixing everything, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then make her an offer that feels fair to you.”

“I need… Birch to buy it.” Her cheeks turn crimson, and her voice has gone all breathy, like she’s ashamed.

I fucking hate that.

But there’s something else here that I hate just as much. Underneath all of this… Birch controls her money? They aren’t even married yet. And if they were married, her money comes from her family’s wealth. I’m no expert, but shouldn’t she have control over her share?

“So I’ll have to ask him to make an offer.”

“Will he?”

She glances at the house. “He said he would.”

“I’m detecting a low level of confidence here.”

With a sigh, she leans back in the seat. “I just wish I could do it all myself.”

“Why can’t you?”

She gives me a look .

“No, seriously. You apply for a loan, make the offer, etcetera. People do it all the time.”

She’s nodding like she agrees, but I can tell she’s already doubting herself. It’s such a contrast to the fierce girl who proudly stuffed a little library with free books in front of my house just a short while ago.

Little Library Kirilee was ready to conquer the world.

Birch Kirilee is afraid to try.

Fuck.

How can I get her to believe in herself?

“I’ll think about it,” she says, giving the house one last wistful glance.