Reckless

“Morning, sweetness.” Ethan’s deep voice sends chills down my arms.

Unable to summon the energy to respond, I grumble against his neck and snuggle closer to the big, warm body at my side. His chest rumbles against me with barely contained laughter.

“Not a morning person, hmm?”

“Too early,” I groan.

His enormous hand strokes my back, and I smile against his stubbled jaw. Damn, it’s nice waking up with him.

After a few minutes, I blink into the bright light of day, wondering how the hell we slept through the night in the flat bed of his truck. But then I remember the half-dozen mojitos I downed before we got the pancakes, and I have my answer. Alcohol, carbs, and a mind-blowing orgasm threw me headlong into a coma.

Once I’m more awake, I’m about to tell Ethan how much I enjoyed spending time with him, even if it meant sleeping in the truck, when Logan’s grinning face pops up over the side.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” Logan lets out a low whistle, perks up an eyebrow, and hangs his arms over the ledge like he’s just going to hang out here and shoot the shit.

Before I can register the shock of seeing him, Ethan pulls the blanket over me. “The fuck? You ever heard of privacy? Get outta here.”

Logan laughs. “Pretty sure you lost the right to privacy when you guys banged like bunnies on our back lawn, bro.”

“There was no banging,” Ethan says gruffly.

“No? Then what’s this?” I peek out the blanket and find Logan dangling my top off his index finger.

Ethan growls. “You want to lose that fucking finger?”

Boys. They get so rambunctious.

I kiss Ethan’s cheek, loving that he’s all up in arms about my virtue, which I’m pretty sure flew out the window of my high school boyfriend’s Mustang.

Snatching my top, I pull it under the covers and wrestle it on. “We were playing naked Twister. You should try it sometime. It’s really good for flexibility.”

Logan laughs at my joke, but Ethan is still growly.

I’m so preoccupied with the brothers’ silent back-and-forth conversation that I don’t hear the car door or the female voice until the blonde steps up next to Logan.

“I needed to bring the kids back early. What’s going on—”

The woman stops mid-sentence when she sees me and a shirtless Ethan.

Ohhhhhh, crap.

Allison.

I’m still buttoning my top, but it’s obvious what Ethan and I were doing since his hair looks like I yanked on it all night.

While he was giving me the best oral sex of my life, for the record.

Part of me is eating him up with my eyes—those sexy tattoos, his broad chest, those sexy-AF stomach muscles—while the other part of me is a smidge terrified over what’s about to go down.

And damn, did I leave that hickey on him last night? I don’t remember sucking his shoulder, but I must have. He makes me bitey.

Slowly, with a piercing scowl, Allison turns to Ethan. “What the fuck is this?”

Logan chuckles. “I’m pretty sure you covered sex in health class. When a man is interested in a woman—”

“Shut the fuck up, Logan.” She waves in my direction while shooting another death glare at Ethan. “This. Her. What’s she doing here when I told you I was bringing the kids back early?”

Ethan scoffs as he snatches up his rumpled shirt and slips it over his arms. “When you texted me last night and said you were bringing them back early, I assumed that meant in the afternoon, not first thing in the morning.”

Her eyes flit to me and then back to Ethan. “It’s nine a.m. When was the last time you slept this late in your life? I didn’t think it would be a problem.”

“That’s just it, Allison. You didn’t think.” Ethan’s voice brims with frustration. “Everything’s always about you. Your schedule. Your life. Your priorities. What happened to taking the kids to the zoo today?”

She rolls her eyes. “It’ll still be there next month. What’s the big deal? It’s going to be too hot today to be outside anyway.”

An unusually cool breeze blows, and I bite my tongue. It’s probably a perfect day to go to the zoo.

I finish buttoning my top, and, as daintily as I can without flashing anyone, try to slide off the back of the truck only to find Logan there to help me. He’s gallant enough to look away when I jump down.

“Thanks,” I whisper, realizing my undies are probably tangled in the blankets. Please don’t fold the blankets, Ethan.

Of course, that’s exactly what he does, but not before he shakes it out, and my thong goes flying.

Noooooooo.

We all watch my undies go careening across the bed of the truck.

Eyes wide, mouth open, Allison stares at the scrap of fabric like it’s a tiny terrorist.

Fuckity fuck.

It’s so quiet, I can almost hear the grass growing beneath my bare feet until Logan snickers next to me. “Pink lace. I highly approve.”

Allison sneers. “Shut. Up. Logan.”

Ignoring her, Logan leans closer to me. “Don’t worry about this. Just head on inside and grab yourself some coffee. I’ll make sure they don’t maim each other.”

I give him a grateful smile and muster a quick glance back to Ethan, who looks like he’s barely keeping his shit together.

When we make eye contact, I motion toward the house. “Do you, um, do you want me to make the kids some breakfast?”

Allison directs her glare to me, but speaks to Ethan. “Why is your skank making the kids’ food?”

If her goal is to make me feel like shit, she’s one to nothing. I look down at my clothes that were perfectly acceptable for a club, but now, at nine o’clock on a Sunday morning, definitely reek of the walk of shame.

Feeling the familiar burn of embarrassment in my cheeks, I suck in a breath. Memories of storming out of Jamie’s house that night turn my stomach.

This isn’t the same thing.

This isn’t the same thing.

It just feels like the same thing.

I turn away, unable to look at Allison, because all I can do is compare myself to her. She’s beautiful. Perfect blonde bob with sun-kissed streaks that probably cost a fortune to have done at a salon. Designer linen pants. Expensive perfume. Elegant diamond earrings that glint in the morning sun. I feel like a husband-stealing tart next to her, which I know isn’t rational, but my emotions don’t want to focus on rational right now.

“Jesus, Allison. Stop being such a…” Ethan stops mid-sentence and shakes his head. “Look, I’m not doing this with you.”

“Not doing what? I thought we agreed we wouldn’t have hookups around the kids.”

He leaps off the side of the truck. “She’s the nanny and a friend, okay? Lay off.”

“Are you kidding me?” she shrieks, making me flinch. “How clichéd can you get? Are you seriously fucking the nanny?”

Embarrassment scorches my skin that already feels so brittle it might crack.

Logan wraps his arm around my shoulder and steers me toward the house. “You probably don’t want to be around for this. It’s gonna get ugly.”

Understatement of the year, I think with my heart in my throat as I walk away.

Hunched over the bathroom sink, I stare at my dirty feet, wishing I’d been wearing shoes when I slunk from Ethan’s truck to the house.

All those warnings from my mother come rushing back to me. ¿Quieres que te llamen una callejera? Do you want them to call you a stray? Or the more insidious definition of callejera, street walker.

It’s always “them” with my mom. Meaning the neighbors or my school mates. People at church. Anyone who could witness my reproachable behavior. Them.

She’d be mortified if she ever found out about this morning.

Braving a glance, I finally look into the mirror and cringe.

My eyes are bloodshot, that smokey makeup I applied yesterday sits like sludge beneath my lower lashes, and my hair looks like an F4 tornado blasted through it.

Awesome first impression, Victoria. No wonder Allison hates you.

As quickly as my churning stomach allows, I crawl in the shower and wash my hair, desperately trying to scrub off all traces of last night.

By the time I’m dressed in sweats and a t-shirt, the house is still eerily quiet.

With sudden clarity, the reality of what happened this morning slams into me.

Will Ethan regret last night? Will he change his mind about us?

A sad laugh escapes me. It’s too early for there to be an us.

Despite what my silly heart wants to lament, I should be worried Allison will make Ethan fire me.

See, tontita, this is why you don’t hook up with your employer.

The thought makes me pause because Ethan doesn’t feel like my boss exactly. I mean, I work hard around here, but I like him and his family, and he really does feel like a friend at this point. And, hell yeah, I like him as more than a friend.

Standing in the doorway of my room, I force myself to bite the bullet and see what kind of fallout happened after I returned to the house.

I find Ethan leaning against the kitchen counter. Shoulders slumped, head down, he looks deep in thought. Off to the side, Mila’s coloring at the table. Her eyes are puffy, and her cheeks are flushed.

“Hey. Where’s Cody?” I ask softly, afraid that a loud sound will shatter whatever fragile state they’re in.

I park myself next to Mila, and she immediately hops out of her seat and into my lap.

When I kiss the top of her head, it’s hard to miss the fact no one brushed her hair this morning. “Hey, honey. Did you have a good time with your momma?”

She shrugs and wipes her eyes. Although Allison’s Lexus was parked a decent distance from the truck—I could barely see it along the side of the house when I came in—I’m guessing Mila and her brother were still in the back seat. Based on Mila’s expression, she probably heard everyone yelling.

Ethan clears his throat, still not looking at me. “Cody’s with Logan. They’ll be back soon.”

Hugging Mila, I ask her if she’s hungry, but all she does is sniffle.

When Ethan finally turns and we make eye contact, I mouth, “I’m so sorry.”

God, I am. Sorry for not coming in the house last night when he suggested it. For not getting up earlier this morning. For opening my mouth around Allison.

Let’s not forget the underwear.

Hot shame burns my skin as this morning replays on fast-forward through my mind.

Ethan gives me a tight-lipped shake of his head, and I’m not totally sure what it means, but I do know this family has been through too much this morning to worry about me. He might fire me as soon as he’s done with his cup of coffee, and that would hurt, but I’d understand.

Right now, though, nothing is more important than cheering up the little girl in my arms, so I swallow back the thick knot of embarrassment.

“Mila, baby, how do you feel about Mickey Mouse pancakes? Someone recently reminded me that pancakes always make everything better. Think you might want to help me whip up a batch?” It takes everything in me to keep my voice light. To pretend I’m okay. To focus on her instead of my own bruised pride.

She perks up in my arms and nods. “Yeah, I can help. Can I stir the batter? I like stirring the batter.”

There’s my sweet girl.

Ethan gives me a half-smile.

I’ll take it.