Page 129 of Reckless

“An infuriatingly attractive one.”

He chuckles. “I’ll take that.”

I smile once more, letting my forehead rest against the steering wheel again. “Give me tonight.”

His answer is immediate. “Done.”

“Tomorrow, I’ll need that ridiculously beautiful brain of yours.”

“You’ll have it.”

I tilt my head, raising my brow. “And probably the rest of you too.”

“That’s generally how it works.”

I snort out a laugh. “You really are getting cocky.”

“No.” His voice softens again, the teasing giving way to something steadier. “Just confident.”

“About what?”

He hesitates, but then his answer comes out smooth as silk. “Us.”

My heart flutters, and I sink into my chair. “Okay, Casanova, I’m going to go home, drink my wine, have a bath, and try not to think about you.”

He chuckles. “All right. But if you need me, anytime, you call, okay?”

“Deal.”

“And send me a picture of you in the tub.”

I snort out a laugh, finally feeling like the weight on my chest has lifted. “You’re a dork.”

“Yeah, but I’m your dork.”

I inhale sharply and nod. “Yeah, yeah, you are. Have a good night.”

“You too, Objection.”

I smile at his nickname for me and hang up.

The drive home should have taken twenty minutes.

It could have been two.

It could have been two hours.

I honestly couldn’t tell you.

Traffic ebbs and flows around me, brake lights bleeding red across the windshield every time another line of cars grinds to a halt. Someone behind me leans on their horn. A bus pulls into the lane beside me, blocking out the afternoon sun for a few seconds before lumbering away again.

I barely register any of it. My hands stay locked around the steering wheel hard enough that my knuckles ache.

The folder Sandy handed me rides on the passenger seat, sliding back and forth every time I stop at another set of lights.

I catch myself looking at it over and over again.

Not opening it.