Reckless

Lying in bed, I wonder why I flirted with him tonight. In the moment, I didn’t think it was that flirty. I’ve said worse things to my friends.

But Ethan isn’t a friend.

He’s my employer, and sexting is not what you discuss with an employer. I guess I am an HR nightmare.

I was half asleep, and he looked so damn cute with his baseball cap on backwards and that sweet expression he gets when he’s talking about his kids. And the way his t-shirt stretched across his broad chest, showcasing his tattoos, made my mouth water.

I can’t explain why, but I wanted to yank his chain and see how he took it.

Yank his chain. Ha. I’d definitely love to yank that.

Wait. Noooooo.

Hell, no.

I squeeze my eyes shut to get him out of my head.

I cannot get a thing for this guy. No way. Is he even divorced yet? And didn’t I throw down the gauntlet the other day with the “no sex ever” conversation? Not to mention I’m not his type.

Is there an AA meeting for this sort of thing, attraction to unavailable men? Because I definitely should look into attending.

After my breakup with Jamie, I researched a woman’s sex drive and found an interesting article that said the more you fed your libido, the more you craved sex, so I figured if I starved the damn thing, the need might disappear. Abstaining from sex sounded reasonable at the time. But now, a year into this endeavor? Now I want to be touched and cuddled and fucked until I can’t walk straight.

This is worse than that dumb carb-free fast I tried in high school, which resulted with me stuffing my face with every biscuit, muffin, and tortilla I could get my hands on for three days straight when I finally caved.

With a groan, I kick off the covers, flip on the bedside lamp, and look around my room. Most of my stuff is still in my apartment in Austin, so I don’t even have the one, no-frills vibrator I didn’t throw out last summer. If I acquaint myself with the deluxe shower head I noticed in my bathroom, will I wake everyone up?

Ugh. Not worth it.

Stay strong, Victoria.

Whimpering, I flop back on the bed and cross my arm over my face. At least when I was waiting tables and bartending, I had daily—hell, hourly—reminders of how hot guys were dirtbags. But here, stranded with Mr. Sexy-As-Fuck Farm Boy, I sense the thrill of the chase toying with my resistance, especially now that I’m seeing Ethan’s not the giant asshole I assumed he was when we first met.

I mentally flip through this last year where I really only did two things to keep my mind off Jamie—I worked and cooked. Maybe I can use that as an outlet here. Not only is cooking for the kids something I’ll enjoy, more elaborate meals wear me out, so I shouldn’t have an ounce of extra energy to lust after their dad.

The buzz of an incoming call interrupts my wallowing, but when I see the name on my cell screen, I groan. I love my best friend Vivian, but not the way we always seem to get in trouble when we’re together.

An all-girl Catholic high school did nothing to tame the two of us. If anything, it made Viv and me rebel more when we were younger, and college only made us wilder. But we haven’t hung out in ages, and I’m starting to feel guilty about it.

“Why aren’t you at my party?” she asks, without preamble. A thumping bass punctuates every other word. She must head into a quiet room, because the music fades to a low roar.

“I didn’t know you were back from South Padre.” I don’t bother explaining that some of us have to work for a living. She “works” for her father, but he’s always letting her set her own hours.

Yawning, I try to follow what she’s saying.

“Wait. Were you asleep? At nine p.m.?”

“Got a new job. Sort of.” Everything with Ethan is so up in the air, I don’t know if he really plans for me to be here the entire summer. Or if I want to be here that long. Except there’s no other way I can be as close to Kat if this doesn’t work out.

I give Viv a brief rundown of how I came to be the newest employee at Carter Cutting Horses.

“Have you fucked him yet?” She chews ice in my ear.

“Fucked who?”

“The dad. He sounds hot, and you’ve always had a thing for assholes.”

“Of course I haven’t fucked him. He’s my boss.” And he’s not really an asshole.

“Never stopped you before.”

I sigh, feeling the exhaustion of my past bulldoze over me. “I never slept with any of my bosses.” People only think I have because I run with friends like Viv. Sure, I’ve had plenty of hookups, and yes, I love sex, but I have a morality clause—no bosses or guys who’ve dated my friends. As soon as you bang someone’s ex, you’re headed for crazy town, and I have enough of that in my life without chumming the water.

“Really?” She sounds disappointed.

“I swear.”

“Jamie wasn’t your boss?”

The sound of his name makes me wince. “No, he wasn’t my boss. He was my boss’s friend, which was bad enough.”

Because one, my boss Kevin never bothered to tell me my boyfriend was fucking married, and two, when Jamie and I unceremoniously broke up that fateful day, I had to quit my bartending job or face the very real possibility of seeing him because he frequented that restaurant.

And there was no way I was ever talking to that scumbag again. I changed my number, switched my job, and eventually moved when he kept stalking my place and sending me flowers. Nothing says, “Hey, sorry I didn’t tell you I was a cheating douchebag” like bouquets of carnations. Who apologizes with the cheapest flower in the state of Texas? Even after I trashed them, they left behind that sickeningly sweet scent that reminded me of my grandmother’s funeral.

“Are you still on that man diet thing?”

“No dicks for me.” Figuratively or literally.

“That’s a shame. I have a friend—”

“No.”

“He’s super hot.”

“Then you date him, and I’ll live vicariously through your escapades.”

She laughs maniacally. “No one said date him. Just let him bang your brains out so you can get over your aversion to attractive men and see that you need to move back to Austin. Then we can party the whole summer. Come on. You haven’t been the same since Jamie. Where’s the BFF I know and love?”

“Girlfriend, I have to work. I have bills to pay. Daddy ain’t gonna cover my rent.”

I can almost hear her rolling her eyes. “George doesn’t pay my rent.” She calls her parents by their first names. My mother would smack me with her chancla if I ever did that. “I have a salary, thank you very much.”

A salary Daddy pays even when you don’t show up to work.

But when she doesn’t stop badgering me, I promise to go out with her. I might need a break from Ethan Carter pronto anyway.

“Yay!” she yells into the phone. “We’ll have a blast! One night of partying never hurt anyone.”

I don’t bother pointing out how we both know that’s not true.

One night is all it takes for everything to go wrong.

When I wake up the next morning, a precious face grins at me over the edge of the bed.

“Hey, Mila.”

What time is it? Ethan didn’t specify what time he wanted me to get the kids up, only that they ate around eight, and it’s not quite seven fifteen.

“Sorry I woke you. Did I wake you?” She bounces up and down on her toes.

This kid is like sunshine on crack. I smile at her even though it pains me to be so cheerful this early in the day without a shot of coffee injected straight into my jugular.

Baby babble sounds through a tiny speaker on the bedside table. Ethan must’ve put the baby monitor there this morning before he headed out to work with the horses. Cody isn’t quite two, so of course his dad still has a monitor for him. I feel dumb for not thinking about that sooner.

“Mila, can you do me a favor and keep your brother company for a few minutes while I brush my teeth? I’ll be right out.”

“I can do that!” She leaps into action, a blur of little girl racing out the door.

My laughter turns into a groan as I try to roll out of bed. When I bartend, I usually go to bed around three or four. Sometimes later. So getting up with the cows is not something my body knows how to do. I haven’t gotten up this early since that internship fired me.

A few minutes later, when I get to Cody’s room, his big smile perks me up. These kids are so freaking happy, I don’t know what to do with myself. I grin at him and snuggle his warm body to me.

“Did you sleep well, munchkin?” He nuzzles closer. I close my eyes, loving his sweet baby scent. “Are you hungry?”

His grumbling tummy answers the question, and I hurry to get him changed so I can feed him. It takes a few minutes to wrestle him out of his pajamas, and when I get to his diaper, his smile widens.

“Poopies!” He kicks his chubby legs. “Poopies!”

“Okay, buddy. Thanks for the warning.”

Except for the toxic diaper, the morning goes smoothly, but by lunch time, Mila’s not wearing that bright smile anymore.

This little girl who never stops moving is staring out the back window, completely frozen.

I kneel down next to her. “What’s wrong, honey? You look worried.”

Her lips twist in her cherubic face. She waves me closer to whisper in my ear. “Can we make my daddy something to eat?”

I almost laugh, except the serious expression on her face tells me I shouldn’t. “What does he usually do for lunch?”

“My grandma makes him food.”

Ethan expressly told me I shouldn’t make him any meals, but that’s kind of weird if he’s used to coming into the house to eat. What is he doing for lunch?

Movement catches my eye in the back yard, and I look across the expansive field to the beautiful red barn where Ethan leads a horse to his stall.

Returning my attention to Mila, I give her a hug. “How about we make some extra food in case he comes in for lunch?”

She looks down, still frowning, and nods. Clearly, that wasn’t the answer she wants to hear.

“Mila, what would you like to do for your dad? What would make you happy?”

“Can we make him lunch and take it to him?”

This kid is too sweet.

“Of course we can.” And if he doesn’t want it? Too damn bad because I’m not sure I can tell her no.