Reckless

This guy’s rude. My skin prickles with irritation. And Kat could’ve mentioned he looks like a Hemsworth.

I set my palm on my stomach to calm my nerves. It’s bad enough living with a stranger, but a sexy one? Rugged and tatted up, someone who looks like he wrestles bears in his spare time? He’s definitely not on my diet plan.

Ethan tosses a legal pad on the island like it has personally offended him—it lands with a loud smack—and then he motions for me to grab a seat on one of the bar stools.

Damn it, I wish Kat hadn’t gone to play with the kids, because now I’m alone with Mr. I-Have-a-Six-Pack-and-a-Bad-Attitude. If he didn’t want me here, he should’ve simply asked me to leave.

“How old are you?” he asks without preamble.

Nice to meet you too. Why is it that gorgeous men always treat women like shit? Yeah, he’s gorgeous. Probably in his late twenties. Tall with shaggy blond hair and a scruffy face from not shaving. Electric blue eyes that would have me doing a double take if he were a guy in my bar. And those abs he flashed me a few minutes ago? With water dripping over every dip and curve? Totally droolworthy. But if memory serves me, a pretty package means trouble every time.

“I’m twenty-three.”

He makes a face. “Let’s cut to the chase,” he says, leaning one hand on the counter. “Whoever I hire is gonna have to get a background check and fingerprints done, so if there’s anything shady in your past, you should tell me now.”

Heat rises in my cheeks. “Aren’t you a ray of sunshine?” I glare back at him. My sister is high off her ass if she thinks this will work out. And for a live-in position! He and I would annihilate each other. She knows I don’t play nice with overbearing assholes. Those baby hormones must have deteriorated her brain to make her think this would work. “I’m pretty sure I won’t pass your precious background check since I did get arrested that one time for snorting coke off a hooker’s tits,” I snark.

He rolls his eyes.

My glare intensifies. “I’m not even sure I like kids. I’m doing this so I can be near my sister because she has a high-risk pregnancy. But I’ll be honest—your attitude sucks. If you didn’t want us here, you should’ve said so instead of being a dick about it.” Am I being dramatic? Maybe. Except now I’m worked up, and there’s no stopping the crazy train. “You know what? Just forget it. I can’t imagine having to live here and deal with you twenty-four seven.”

“Why don’t you tell me how you really feel?” He chuckles and then rubs his jaw, but then says, “You sound just like my ex-wife,” under his breath.

We stare at each other, and I lift my eyebrows, feeling the awkwardness of the moment pierce my anger. Any mention of wives, ex-wives, or ex-girlfriends gives me the hives.

Clearing his throat, he asks, “What’s wrong with Kat? Thought everything was going okay.”

“High blood pressure.”

He motions to the other room where Kat and Izzy are hanging out with Logan. “That’s pretty common. She looks good, though. I’m sure she’ll be okay.”

I nod, counting the seconds until I can get out of here.

Self-consciously, I survey my outfit, eying the cutoffs and the old boots my sophomore-year roommate gave me. When my sister asked me to come home with her for a few days, I didn’t think she’d drag me to an interview the first chance she had. I brought clothes so I could hang out on her farm and do her laundry, maybe cook for her, not sit in front of a firing squad. In this gorgeous, sprawling house no less.

I hate this, not planning ahead and always being the lowly person in need of something. Not being good enough. Story of my life.

Shit.

My eyes sting, and I blink back the heat. I will not cry in front of this guy.

When I pull in a breath, I sniffle. Damn it.

“Hey. I’m sorry,” he says gruffly. “I don’t mean to be an asshole.”

“Yeah, you do.” I shake my head, not wanting to look at him. “But no worries. I’m gonna go.” I sniffle again. “Sorry we messed up your afternoon.”

Jumping off the stool, I quickly wipe my eyes and stalk off to find my sister, who is sitting on the living room floor with Izzy and two other kids jumping around her. Why in the world is she down there?

“Tori!” the little girl screams.

This must be Mila, Ethan’s daughter. What a cutie.

She looks familiar. I probably met these kids at one of the festivals my sister hosts at her farm. Mila runs toward me and launches herself into my body. I reach out and try to steady myself before we both topple over, but a strong arm grabs me before I completely lose my footing.

My breath catches and goose bumps break out all over my body when I look up into those intense blue eyes. Immediately, I shake off Ethan’s grip and direct my attention to his daughter.

Kneeling, I smile at her. Another sniffle escapes me. “Hey, Mila. Long time no see! How have you been, honey?”

She wraps her arms around my neck in a tight hug. “Did you come to play dress-up with me?” Oh, my God. What a sweet kid. “Kat said you like to play dress-up. Remember when you painted my face? Can we do that again? I liked that.” Vaguely, I remember a younger Mila asking me to draw a butterfly on her cheek. When she pulls back, she worries her bottom lip. “Or did you come to talk to my mom? She doesn’t live here anymore. She’s ’posed to come this weekend, but I don’t know…” Big tears well in her eyes. “Sometimes she doesn’t come.”

Oh, shitshitshit.

“Know what? I’d love to play dress-up. I bet you have the best clothes. Maybe even a tiara?”

She blinks real fast and nods like a bobblehead doll. “I do! My daddy got it for me. It’s sooo pretty!”

“Coolness. Listen, I need to go in a few minutes, but maybe we could put your tiara on first?” She bobbleheads again, and I laugh. “Hurry and grab it.”

As soon as she darts out of the room, I realize there’s another woman here sitting next to Logan on the couch. She has short grayish-blonde hair and a friendly face.

Standing, I wave. “Hi, I’m Tori, Kat’s sister.” I muster a smile, keenly aware that Ethan is watching my every move.

The woman grins as she reaches over to pull a toddler onto her lap. That must be Cody. Would’ve been nice if my sister had mentioned that one of the kids is still in diapers.

The woman returns my wave. “I’m Beverly, the grandma.”

“Oh, man. So these two guys are yours?” I motion between Logan and Ethan and blow out a breath. “I’m so sorry.”

She barks out a laugh. “I like this one.”

Mila trots back in, this time wearing a fluffy, hot pink boa. She waves her tiara at me. “Here.”

“I love your boa. Every girl should have one of these.” A twinge of sadness settles over me at an old memory of Jamie and that time he made love to me one night while all I wore was my red boa and heels. Despite his promises, I’ve realized he only wanted me for sex. The thought hardens my heart, which I welcome. No sense in letting anyone do that to me again.

Bending down, I fix Mila’s long blonde hair behind her ears before I slide on her tiara. “Voilà! What a perfect princess you are!”

She grins and gently pats her costume jewelry.

I whisper in her ear. “I bet your daddy would love to take a selfie with you while you’re dressed up.”

Her smile widens as she turns to her father, whose attention is drilled on me. Seriously, why is he staring? I motion my head toward his kid. Look alive, dude.

His eyes shift to Mila, and I’m taken aback by the love that floods his expression. She asks him to take a photo with her, and he nods and scoops her into his arms, presses a kiss to her forehead, and reaches for the cell in his back pocket.

I look away, not needing to see some sentimental moment between these two.

Even though Ethan seems to have a stick up his ass, the living room is welcoming with cozy, overstuffed couches and a big flatscreen TV. Along the far wall is a stone fireplace with a mantel full of photos and horse trophies.

When we pulled up to the ranch, my sister said this property has been in Ethan’s family for three generations.

“Your house is gorgeous, ma’am,” I tell Beverly.

Her face lights up. “Ethan did all the renovations.”

He sets down Mila and shoves his hands in his pockets. “Ma, you know I had some help.”

I ignore the shiver that runs through me from the sound of his deep voice.

Beverly points down the hall. “He installed those beautiful counters in the kitchen, expanded the house, knocked down walls, added the bedrooms along the East side—the whole shebang. He really is very handy.”

Too bad he’s a dick. I smile awkwardly and nod, turning my back so I don’t have to look at Ethan and his throat-punching presence.

My sister tries to scoot off the floor, and I roll my eyes and rush to help her up.

“No more sitting on the floor,” I groan as I steady my sister.

When Izzy grabs her mom’s hand, I finally let go of her.

“I told her to sit on the couch,” Logan says, rubbing his jaw the same way his brother does.

Logan gives me a shrug and a wink, and I can’t resist smiling back. He’s a carbon copy of his brother except his eyes are lighter, and he’s leaner. Not to mention nicer. Ethan is all brawn with hard muscles, tattoos, and a roughness I can’t really explain.

It’s crystal-clear the Carter brothers are total lady-killers.

That means it’s time to go.

Because I’ve had my fill of these kind of guys for at least a lifetime.