Love Me Reckless (Love Me Dangerous #2)

Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

KIRILEE

I wake to my phone chirping from my nightstand. I peek at the screen. To my surprise, it’s Birch.

“Morning.” Outside my window, the world has gone snowy-white, with the lowering sun turning the surface crystals to glittering silver. From my window, I have a direct view of the barn, decorated with Christmas lights and a wreath above the door. It looks so festive and pretty.

“Can you meet me for lunch today?”

“You’re in town?”

“I arrived late last night.”

I roll away from my window and pull the covers back. “Aren’t you supposed to be in Oslo?”

“I wanted to spend time with you.”

My heart warms. This is unexpected, and sweet of him.

“See you at Campagne, then? Noon?”

“See you then.”

Birch has been out of town a lot lately, but he and his family are going to spend a week at the ranch for Christmas, so our families can spend it together. Grandma Theodora is coming too, and I’m excited. I love Christmas.

After getting dressed, I drive to Sofie and Zach’s place by the high school to pick her up for our morning date wrapping books for the Get Lit Giftaway.

“Merry almost Christmas!” She grabs me in a sideways hug, then sets a giant thermos between her feet and buckles up. “I brought us tea in case the library’s cold.”

I back out of their driveway. “Have you guys started packing yet?”

She gives their little rental house a tender smile. “A little. I’m going to miss it.”

“I’m so excited for you guys,” I say.

“Me too. I’m definitely looking forward to more space. When William has his football friends over, it’s wall-to-wall hormones. I’m surprised the roof hasn’t blown off.”

I take a left at the stop sign. The snowy streets have been plowed but it’s still a little slick, so I descend the hill with care.

“How’d your ski lesson go with Sawyer?” Sofie asks.

My stomach turns fluttery. “He was kind of klutzy at first. But he’s catching on fast. I’m taking him to the backside next time. Challenge him a bit.”

“One I have no doubt he’ll rise to,” Sofie says with a sly grin.

The light turns green and I accelerate slowly through the intersection. “He just wants to fit in with his crew. I’m happy to help.”

Sofie gives me a thoughtful glance. “I love that.”

I fight the heat creeping up my neck with a measured breath.

“Is Zach working a lot over Christmas?” I ask to move the conversation along.

“Yes, but thankfully he has Christmas Eve and New Year’s Eve off.”

She shares the series of events planned with her dad and siblings, the Huttons, and Zach, William, and Sawyer.

It makes me happy that she and Zach are including Sawyer. Will he feel lonely at Christmas with no family here? My chest tightens with a hot ache.

“Henry and Barb invited us all on a sleigh ride a few days after Christmas,” Sofie says. “Can you make it?”

Us all? Little butterflies tickle my insides.

“Sawyer’s coming.”

“Oh.” Is my face on fire? “Great.”

I pull into the library parking lot and we crunch across the snowy ground to the entrance on the lower level, where I’ve been setting up for the giftaway over the past week.

Inside the events room, boxes of books are open on the floor next to a banquet table with wrapping supplies—spools of ribbon, tape, sticky cards, and two giant rolls of colorful wrapping paper.

“This is so exciting!” Sofie says, slipping out of her jacket.

I pull up a Christmas playlist on my phone and we get to work.

“Smart of you to use the library,” Sofie says, bringing a handful of books to the wrapping table. “Otherwise it would take you weeks to distribute all of these.”

That, and it would feel tacky doing so in my BMW.

Sofie grabs another book from her stack. “I know this one.” She sets it the center of a square of wrapping paper. “Linnie’s read them all.”

I peek at the cover. It’s book one in the Lumberjane series. “Ooh, that’s a good one.”

My next book makes my skin jump— The Princess in Black . After Sawyer told me the one he received as a gift disappeared the next day, I contacted the publisher. They sent me a hundred copies plus another hundred for the Giftaway.

I peel off a section of wrapping paper and set the book in the center, gratitude glowing hot inside me.

“How’s the property search going?” Sofie asks.

I finish taping down the ends then add the little card with plenty of tape so it won’t get torn off in transport. “I don’t know if I can get a loan.”

Sofie frowns. I know it’s confusing—I have money. It’s got me confused too.

“It’s not like I have a job.”

“Do you have some sort of stipend?” she asks, tearing off another section of wrapping paper.

“Yes, but it’s not enough for a down payment.”

“Can you ask your family?”

My dad would just tell me to ask Birch, and I’ve already tried that. “What if I want to do it myself?”

Her eyes seem to brighten. “Then you’ll need to raise some capitol. Maybe from your ceramics?” She gives the stack of books a quick glance. “Could you apply for a grant, like you did for Get Lit? I mean, the purpose is to start a community art center, which likely qualifies for all kinds of assistance.”

“But wouldn’t that be taking money away from people who really can’t afford to build something?”

“Did you feel bad about applying for grant money for these books?”

“No.” Mostly because the grants allowed me to work with publishers directly who were excited to partner with us.

Sofie shrugs. “Why is this any different?”

“Maybe it feels bigger?”

“Even more reason to go for it.”

“Can I really do it on my own?”

She raises an eyebrow. “Only one way to find out.”

Café Campagne is a small French restaurant located in Finn River Ranch’s quaint village, across from the patisserie. It’s adjacent to the ski area but most skiers eat in Bear Lodge at the base.

Birch is waiting at the host stand, dressed in a charcoal gray suit and burgundy tie, his eyes quick to lock with mine. He wraps me in a gentle hug. “You smell good.” He sighs, like he’s happy.

“Right this way,” the ma?tre d’ says after we part, and leads us through the cozy restaurant to a two-top by the big window overlooking the square.

“Jean Marc will be with you shortly,” he says while pouring water from the glass bottle at our table. “May I start a drink order for either of you?”

“Water’s fine for me,” I say with a smile. “Thank you.”

He nods.

“Soda water with two limes, please,” Birch says, scanning the menu.

“Very good,” the ma?tre d’ says, and strides toward the bar.

“How have you been? How was your trip?” I ask.

“It’s been very busy,” he says, setting down his menu. “But productive.”

“That’s great.”

Our waiter arrives to take our order. I get the caramelized onion soup and Birch orders a Nicoise salad. Another waiter drops off a basket of warmed bread and butter.

“You went skiing yesterday,” Birch says after our waiter retreats. “Why were you at Bear Mountain and not the ranch?”

“I’m teaching a friend to ski. It’s better for beginners there.” I tear a section of the bread and add a pat of butter.

“This is Zach’s friend, right?” Birch sips from his soda water.

“Yeah. They grew up together. Sawyer moved here for a job and to be closer to Zach and William.”

“Don’t they ski in Alaska?”

“Not everyone.” I nibble on the bread’s crunchy, oven-baked crust.

“How much do you know about Sawyer?”

I add butter to my last bite of bread and chew it slowly, thinking this through. I know Sawyer’s hearty, full-belly laugh, the way he listens to me, like I’m someone important, the strength in his body, the way he teases. It feels like I’ve known Sawyer Reed for much longer than these few months. And I sometimes feel like he knows me too—the real me, the way my friends do. My dad’s comment after that night I ditched Birch floats through my mind like a warning.

We know how much your judgment is worth.

Birch adjusts his slacks at the knee and crosses his legs, snapping me back to the conversation. “There’s nothing wrong with having friends, Kirilee. I just want to make sure he’s only in it for friendship too.”

Unease curls like little fists in my stomach. “Um, what?”

“The clothes you bought at the sport shop in Darby were for him? And the lift tickets you bought, also for him?”

Now I get it. Birch is worried about money. I’m sort of relieved, but maybe a little sad too? Even though understanding why is making my head hurt. “You think Sawyer is going to try to get money from me.”

“It’s a fair question.”

“Sawyer’s not looking for a handout.” Grayson’s words fill my mind. They’re not our people, you know that, right?

“Are you aware that he has a history of violent behavior?” Birch asks.

Violent? I try to reconcile this idea with the person I know but it’s impossible. Though Sawyer did say he used to fight to protect his little brother, maybe Birch doesn’t have all the facts.

“Or that his mother died under suspicious circumstances?” Birch adds.

I try to slow down my thoughts with a drink of water. “Suspicious how?”

“Some sort of accident involving an ex-boyfriend.”

My heart drops into my lap and the room seems to brighten, making me wince. Accident that caused her death… as in she was killed? I want to ask for more details, but talking about it like this feels wrong. Disrespectful. And truthfully, I care very little about how it happened .

I want to know how Sawyer and his brother survived something so terrible. Sawyer must have been terrified. They were suddenly alone. Who took care of them? Who helped them make sense of something so tragic? How did they heal?

“His brother has been in and out of jail,” Birch says, stirring his ice. “Mostly for theft.”

Our waiter brings our lunch, and a fresh drink for Birch. I use the moments of quiet to collect my thoughts.

“ Bon appetit ,” Jean Marc says.

“Thank you,” I say.

My soup smells incredible, but eating it feels wrong given what I’ve just heard and the questions running through my mind.

“How do you know all of this?” I ask.

“The usual ways.”

“I don’t know what that means.” Has he done this kind of intelligence gathering on all my friends?

Birch glances up from cutting a tomato. “It’s not for you to worry about. I just want to caution you. Keep your credit cards and your banking information to yourself. Don’t loan him money. Don’t offer to buy him expensive items he could resell.”

Is this why he insisted I start using the home safe at his Grayhawk house?

“Stop.” My stomach winds so tight it’s hard to get a breath. “Please.”

“You’re too easy of a target, Kirilee,” he says in that warning voice. “It’s my job to protect you.”

Too easy of a target rattles around in my brain. I shake my head. “Protect me, or my money?”

“ Our money.” He slides a bite of tuna into his mouth. “Money you enjoy using for your causes. For bachelorette parties and ski trips and pottery supplies. Money your family has worked very hard to make.”

He’s right, I know he is. But he’s going about this all wrong. Maybe it’s na?ve and another example of how I’m “too trusting” but Sawyer wouldn’t steal from me or coerce me into giving him money.

“He’s my friend,” I manage. Doesn’t Birch know how awful this feels talking about someone I care about like he’s not trustworthy?

“Keep your guard up. If you suspect anything, promise you’ll tell me.”

It’s like he hasn’t heard me. “Why, what will you do?”

“I’ll handle it.”

A chill zips down my spine. “Please tell me you haven’t approached him.”

The look he gives me makes it clear that he’s considered doing so. “I will if I need to.”

“Is that why you canceled your plans and asked me to lunch today? To warn me?” This hurts. Here I was thinking he had truly wanted to see me, to spend time with me.

His face goes remarkably serene. “Of course not. You’re overreacting.”

My eyes are starting to sting but I will my emotions back to a simmer so I can speak without exploding. “You’ve just made horrible assumptions about my friend based on what little you know about his past, and now you’re threatening to confront him with it? That’s not okay.”

His face contorts into that open-mouth sneer that shows his teeth. “Kirilee, calm down.”

I sense the other diners are focusing our way, but I don’t care. “Promise me you won’t scare off my friends.”

“That is not my intention. I’m simply looking out for you.”

Do I believe him? The answer is not clear. Birch didn’t deny the possibility of confronting Sawyer if he deems it necessary… is that because he can’t? Or am I making this into a bigger deal than it needs to be?

“Now finish your lunch,” Birch says in a steady tone meant to soothe me, but my throat feels hot. “I have a surprise for you. ”

The way his eyes have softened makes this even more confusing. Do I trust him, or trust my gut?

After we leave the restaurant, Birch drives me a short way up a narrow, paved road that months ago led to a grassy hillside. What’s here now is a barren expanse of pale, rocky ground, with foundations being prepared for what looks like a dozen new homes. The snow covering the surrounding area makes it look out of place. A detail scratches to the surface of my thoughts as we step from the car. The icy breeze whips through my hair. I’m not dressed for the cold so I zip up my jacket and hug myself.

Birch walks to the right side of the gravel entrance road and peels back the thick plastic sheet covering a pale stone marker.

KIRILEE HEIGHTS is etched across it. I stare at it, trying to get my bearings. He put my name on a development?

“These will be the first net zero homes in the ranch. What do you think?” Birch asks with a confident smile.

I force a smile. “Wow.”

He walks back over and offers his hand. “I knew you’d be pleased. Come on, I’ll show you where the wastewater treatment system will be and the solar panels.”

As I take his hand, the detail wriggles free. You won’t be able to build anything in the winter .

Does that mean those rules only apply to me and my ideas?

I pace outside the shop, concentrating on breathing slowly. Everything I’ve read says that a consult with your chosen tattoo artist is a good idea. It helps prepare you both and for the artist to understand you a bit more .

If I could just work up the nerve to open the door.

Inside my purse, I have three different versions of my design. I’ve scoured the internet for ideas, sketched dozens of my own, and though I think I know what I want, it’s daunting.

This will be a permanent change, one I can’t take back. It’s exhilarating, but also terrifying.

After another deep inhale, drawing on the strength I know is inside me, I push through the door.

Inside, the black and white checkered floor and walls adorned with framed images of body parts freshly etched with ink is a startling difference to the quiet street outside. There’s a soft hum and faint conversation filtering into the reception area.

A skinny, bald man with a septum ring sits behind a reception table. “The nail spa’s down the street.”

Prickles dance over my skin. “I’m not looking for the nail spa.”

The man gives me a quick up-down glance. “K.”

“I have an appointment for a consult.”

He slides a mouse on a keypad and glances at his screen. “Are you Kaylee?”

“Kirilee.” I force my feet to move.

His lips twist, like he doesn’t believe me. “Wait here.”

He slips off his stool and disappears into the shop.

My phone chirps from inside my purse. It’s my lead coordinator for Get Lit.

“Hey, Amelia,” I say.

“Sorry to bug you,” she says. “Darby and Clearwater libraries want in for the holiday giveaway. Is that okay? Can we get enough books by then?”

“I’ll make sure of it,” I say, calculating the remaining days before Christmas and our inventory. It’ll be tight, but I’m not turning anyone away. “Sign them up.”

“Okay,” Amelia says with a laugh, probably because she knows how crazy it is. “I’ll get them into the system. ”

The guy from the back returns, his arms crossed and his face set in a scowl.

“Thank you,” I say to Amelia, and tuck the phone back in my purse.

The man points at a sign on the wall behind me. It’s a list of rules, and NO CELL PHONES is number one.

“I’m sorry,” I say over the rushing of blood to my temples. “I didn’t know.”

He gives me an impatient huff. “We don’t take sorority girls in here.”

Anger fizzles inside me. Though I’ve never set foot in a sorority, that seems beside the point. He doesn’t want me here. Because of how I look, or what he’s determined after our brief interaction.

“Thanks anyway,” I say, and turn for the door.

Outside, I gulp a breath of the winter air, forcing it down into my lungs. I feel the shop guy’s eyes on me, so I hurry down the street.

My phone chirps, and I snatch at it. “Hello?”

“Whoa,” Sawyer says, sounding alarmed. “You okay?”

Shit. I sounded like I wanted to bite his head off. “Sorry.” I inhale a shaky breath. “Hi.”

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he says in a soft voice.

I start to cry. Maybe it’s the endearment, or maybe it’s just the kindness in his voice. “I just got kicked out of a tattoo shop.”

“Where are you?”

“Pinedale.”

“Get to your car and send me your location.”

I swallow the thickening lump in my throat. “Why?”

“So I can find you, silly.”

Is it a bad sign that I already feel better knowing he’s coming? “Okay.”