Something Reckless

by Lexi Ryan

  Those words snap me out of my dopy haze. “Leave Asia alone. You’ve done enough.”

  He frowns. “This isn’t about Asia.”

  He found out about Dad’s affair. Whatever it is Connor needs to tell me, I don’t want to know. It’s his job to take care of this stuff. I want to be left out of it. My father likes women. A lot. And my father has a little trouble keeping his dick in his pants. This wouldn’t surprise me about the average politician, and given my father’s history, it shouldn’t surprise me about him. But it does. He’s supposed to love my mother and no one else. Forever.

  “It’s about Lizzy,” Connor says. “She’s been using Something Real, Ian’s dating site.”

  I shake my head, my brain struggling to switch gears. “Why do you care?”

  He drops a stack of papers in front of me and my eyes scan the top page of messages between Tink24 and Riverrat69.

  “She’s Tink24,” Connor says. “Ian just found this tonight.”

  He’s highlighted certain sections, and I can’t help myself. I start flipping pages and skimming as I go.

  Riverrat69: Tell me what turns you on.

  Tink24: Kissing. Secret meetings in dark corners. Strong men who pursue what they want but aren’t too proud to ask for permission before taking it. What about you?

  Riverrat69: Blondes, beautiful women in short skirts, sassy-mouthed vixens.

  Tink24: Oh, so I turn you on?

  Riverrat69: Yes. You do. But you already knew that.

  Tink24: I hoped. Anything else?

  Riverrat69: So much. The curve of a woman’s ass. Hearing her scream my name as I drive into her. The way she stops breathing just before she comes. Your turn.

  Tink24: This conversation turns me on. And if the moment is right and I feel safe . . . being tied up.

  Riverrat69: I would love to tie you up. I’ve fantasized about it more than once.

  My fists tighten instinctively, wrinkling the pages in my hands. My whole body is on fire with the anger pumping through me as I flip through the messages. Plenty of the exchanges are tame, but Connor has highlighted the worst of them.

  “Why are you showing me this?” My voice sounds funny. Smaller. Younger. Vulnerable.

  “Keep going.”

  So I do. I flip through the remaining conversations. I make myself look at the pictures she sent him. The curve of her hip in lacy black panties, her legs bare and stretched out over crisp white sheets, her cleavage. I want to tell myself this isn’t Liz, but I know that’s just denial. I know her body better than I know my own. I could have identified that hip, those legs anywhere. By the time I’m halfway through, I want to stop, know I should stop even, but I can’t. Maybe I’m looking for something that will prove this wasn’t her. Or maybe I just need to know the truth.

  I freeze when I get to the highlighted section on the last page.

  Tink24: Do you still want to meet me?

  Riverrat69: More than anything.

  Tink24: When? Where?

  Riverrat69: Can you get to Brown County tomorrow night?

  Tink24: Yes. It will have to be late. I have an event.

  Riverrat69: 5429 Water Pointe Blvd. I’ll wait up.

  Tink24: I’ll see you then.

  Riverrat69: I’ve never actually ripped a woman’s clothes off before, but I might have to with you. I don’t think you’ll make it past the foyer before I bury my face in your pussy.

  My stomach cramps as anger floods through me. It’s worse than anger—it has a thicker blade and a sharper edge. Jealousy. Hurt. A merciless thrusting of a knife working its way up to my chest. I haven’t just fallen off this ladder and straight into love with Liz. I’ve plummeted to the bottom only to be beaten with it.

  I lift my gaze to Connor’s and the apology is all over his face. “You piece of shit,” I mutter. “My sister just gave you a baby.” And that’s why he wasn’t there. He couldn’t meet her at the cabin because Della was in labor.

  And I was there instead. I was supposed to stay at the inn with the rest of the guests, but I’d made a last-minute decision that changed everything. I wasn’t the man she came for.

  Connor shakes his head slowly. “I’m not Riverrat.”

  “You can’t lie your way out of this. You help Ian with the site. You have the administrative authority to allow pictures between your accounts. You go to the cabin all the time.”

  “I’m not Riverrat,” he repeats. His voice is soft. As if what he’s saying is an apology, not a defense, and that doesn’t make any sense.

  “Then who is?”

  Pain flashes across his face, and the floor falls out from under me. I know.

  * * *

  Liz

  I wipe away my tears as I pack up my few belongings. I can’t work here anymore. River made that much clear tonight. Connor, I mentally correct. Thinking of him as River makes it easier to pretend it didn’t happen, and I won’t do that anymore. I need to leave this job and I need to tell Sam everything.

  If I’m lucky, maybe Mr. Bradshaw will still get me the internship with Governor Guy’s campaign, but either way I can’t be here.

  It doesn’t take me long to gather my things into a single small box, but as I turn to leave, I see the light on in Mr. Bradshaw’s office. What’s he doing here on Christmas night?

  I put the box down and go to his door. My hands are shaking as I knock. It’s not fair of me to leave him so soon and ask him to pull strings to get me a new job, but it would be foolish not to ask.

  “Come in,” Mr. Bradshaw calls.

  Taking a deep breath, I push open the door. “Mr. Bradshaw?”

  He startles a bit at the sound of my voice. He sweeps his gaze over me twice—the first time a quick assessment, the second time slower and almost . . .

  I shake off the thought before it can fully form in my mind. I’m imagining things.

  “I didn’t expect to see you today,” he says. There’s something in his voice, as if he’s holding back the words he really wants to say.

  “I’m sorry to bother you.”

  He pushes away from his desk and stands to come around to my side. “You’re never a bother, Liz. What brings you here?”

  I relax. The oddness I sensed with him when I first knocked on the door seems to have fallen away. I must have caught him off guard.

  “If I ask you a question, do you promise to tell me the truth?” I’m surprised at the words. I should be focusing on the job, not my personal life.

  His shoulders tense and something flickers in his eyes. “I can’t promise I’ll answer, but I can promise I won’t lie to you.”

  I nod, licking my winter-chapped lips. My mouth is dry. Every inch of me feels like it’s been dried up, had the life sucked out of it by the cold. “Fair enough.”

  His eyes flick to the door standing open behind me. “Want to close that first?”

  “Oh. Yeah, sure.” I close the door then turn back to him. He’s leaning against the edge of his desk, legs crossed at the ankle. He looks so much like Sam. Or Sam looks like him, I guess. I know their family is close, and I’m not sure if he’ll feel as if he’s betraying Sam if he tells me the truth. Just ask.

  “Why don’t you approve of me dating your son?” The second the words are out of my mouth, the second I hear them instead of think them, I realize how juvenile this sounds and my cheeks burn. I study the floor. I’m a grown woman. The only one who needs to approve of my relationship with Sam is Sam himself. No one else.

  “Liz, look at me,” he says. Slowly, I lift my head. He’s looking at me oddly, his mouth twisted into a grimace, something like pain in his beautiful light brown eyes. “You know me. Better than most. Maybe better than anyone.”

  I frown. I haven’t worked for him for that long, and Mr. Bradshaw keeps to himself, and when he does confide in someone, it’s family. Trusted family surrounds him. I’m the exception. I don’t actually know him that well.

  “Did you really think I could watch you date my son and enjo
y it?” He straightens and takes a step forward, closing the distance between us until he’s standing almost uncomfortably close. “Do you think watching you two together has been easy for me?”

  “I don’t understand,” I whisper, but it’s a lie.

  As his hand goes into my hair, I understand all too well. Even before his hand touches my face, the truth reveals itself to me and slips right from my lips. “River.”

  THE END

  This is the end of Something Reckless, but it’s not the end of Liz and Sam. Their story concludes in Something Real, the second book in the Reckless and Real series, which will be available in March of 2015. If you’d like to receive an email when the book is available, please sign up for my newsletter.

  Acknowledgments

  As always, I thank my family first. Brian, thank you for the time, encouragement, and patience you give to this crazy career of mine. For sending me to the “satellite office” to work when the kids won’t leave me alone, for listening to my endless out-of-context plot concerns, and for proving day after day that happily-ever-after exists outside my head. You and the kids are my world.

  My friends and family, who celebrate my successes as their own, cheer me on every step of the way, and pimp my books out to every literate adult they meet. I am humbled by your enthusiasm and grateful to have built a life surrounded by such amazing people. I hope you know how grateful I am to have you in my life.

  To everyone who provided me feedback on and cheers for Liz and Sam’s story along the way—especially Adrienne Hogan, Mira Lynn Kelley, Heather Carver, Karen Newman, and Samantha Leighton—you’re all awesome. To Lexi’s Midnight Readers, who were ready for this story back when it was only a kernel of an idea, thank you. You remind me daily why I love this job so much!

  Thank you to the team that helped me package this book and promote it. Sarah Hansen at Okay Creations designed my beautiful cover, and if I have my way she will do many, many more for me. Rhonda Helms and Lauren McKellar, thank you for the insightful line edits, and Arran McNicol at Editing720 for proofreading. Thanks to my PA, Chris, who does her best to keep me organized, even when we’re juggling fifteen tasks at once. A shout-out to Julie of AToMR for your work to promote my books, and to all of the bloggers and reviewers who help her do it. Amazing. Every one of you.

  To my agent, Dan Mandel, and my foreign rights agent, Stefanie Diaz, for getting my books into the hands of readers all over the world. Thank you for being part of my team.

  Thank you a hundred times over to my NWBs—Sawyer Bennett, Lauren Blakely, Violet Duke, Jessie Evans, Melody Grace, Monica Murphy, and Kendall Ryan. I’m sure you were ready to strangle me when I was trying to figure out how to approach this series and tell the story in the best way possible. Thank you for always giving it to me straight and handing me the brown paper bag when I’m panicking.

  To all my writer friends on Twitter, Facebook, and my various writer loops, thank you for your support and inspiration. I must say, ours is the coolest water cooler in the entire workforce.

  And last but certainly not least, thank you to my fans. To those who read the other New Hope books and wanted more, to those who’ve declared you’d gladly read my grocery lists, and to those who have been with me from the very beginning, thank you. I appreciate each and every one of you. I couldn’t do this without you and wouldn’t want to. Thank you for buying my books and telling your friends about them. Thank you for asking me to write more. You’re the best!

  ~Lexi

  Other Titles by Lexi Ryan

  The New Hope Series

  Unbreak Me

  Stolen Wishes (A Wish I May prequel novella)

  Wish I May

  Here and Now (A New Hope Series)

  Lost in Me

  Fall to You

  All for This

  Reckless and Real (A New Hope Series)

  Something Wild (A Reckless and Real prequel novella)

  Something Reckless

  Something Real

  Hot Contemporary Romance

  Text Appeal

  Accidental Sex Goddess

  Decadence Creek Stories and Novellas

  Just One Night

  Just the Way You Are

  About the Author

  A former college English professor, NYT bestseller Lexi Ryan now spends her days writing from her home in rural Indiana. She loves to hear from readers!

  @writerlexiryan

  LexiRyanAuthor

  www.lexiryan.com

  writerlexiryan@gmail.com