Reckless (A Carolina Coastal Novel Book 3)

by Kelsey Cheyenne

  I laugh because he’s right. “Gee, thanks. What other brilliant observations about me have you made?”

  He looks down for a second, fiddling with something. His brows furrow in thought before a glimmer appears in his eyes. “Your erotic ideas often become exciting new adventures.”

  I almost spit out my water. “What?”

  He lifts a sliver of white paper. “Fortune cookie. It actually says exotic ideas, but I paraphrased. Still true.” He winks.

  I throw my unopened cookie at him. “So what’s mine say?”

  “Every exit is an entrance to new experiences.” He cackles and smirks. “I think that means it’s time for anal.”

  “Did we order the X-rated cookies or something?”

  “I’ll show you X-rated.” He lunges for me, almost dumping food all over the couch. As he tugs my leg, pulling me down against the couch, my phone rings. I reach for it on the coffee table and he lets me go, likely after taking in my confused expression.

  It’s Olivia, my brother’s fiancée. That’s weird. She wouldn’t call unless it was an emergency. Adrenaline pumps through my veins as I answer the call. “Hello?”

  “Hey, Flynn. It’s Olivia.” Her voice is chipper, albeit cautious.

  “I know. I have caller ID.”

  “Oh, haha, right.” I roll my eyes. “I’m calling because my bachelorette party is next weekend and I wanted to see if you were coming. Carson will be there, so you’ll know someone other than me.” As if I need my sister or future sister-in-law to save me.

  “Really, your bachelorette party? Already? Isn’t the wedding, like, weeks away?” Liam massages my foot as Liv talks my ear off about her plans.

  “Will there be strippers?” Liam asks and I try to cover the speakers on my phone, but it’s too late.

  “Oh my God, I’m sorry, are you busy? I’ll just, uh, text you later. Bye!” she hangs up before I can get another word in.

  “Great. Now she’ll tell my brother and sister and probably my mom that I was with a guy. My mom will start asking questions, you know.”

  “So, tell her you’re seeing someone.”

  “Is that the truth?” I ask, my heart thumping a million beats per minute in my chest.

  “Isn’t it?” I like when he challenges me.

  “But then she’ll expect to meet him and that he’ll be my date to the wedding. I sure as shit can’t bring you home to meet her. She already knows you. As my therapist.”

  “Something tells me you never did what your mom wanted anyway.” I know he’s my doctor and it’s his job, but the man really does get me.

  My mother is thrilled, not only to hear I’m dating someone, but also that Olivia invited me to her bachelorette party. She believes therapy has suddenly turned over a new leaf for me and now I want to spend time with my family. She’s wrong, but for once I decide to let her live in the delusion.

  The following weekend, I find myself in an Airbnb on the beach to celebrate my future sister-in-law. There’s a group of about ten girls, including me, Liv, and Carson. This has already solidified the reason I only have two friends—I hate women.

  “Let’s do shots!” Malibu Bitchy Number One yells and I roll my eyes. If I have to listen to all these bitches turn into whiny, spineless sloshes, I’ll go all Fighter Flynn on their asses.

  Reaching into my back pocket, I pull out my phone to text Liam. I wish I were with him right now, but I don’t tell him that. I avoid feelings at every turn, and instead, go for the sexual approach.

  Flynn: I wish I were taking your cock right now instead of dealing with a bunch of former sorority debutants.

  “Is that your boyfriend?” My sister comes up behind me and I’m glad I closed out of the texts before she could read it over my shoulder.

  I glance over to her—the vision of a perfect sister and daughter. Dark hair, light blue eyes, soft features. With everything life has put her through, you’d think she’d have aged forty years. Instead, she’s vibrant and gorgeous, petite despite having a kid, and insanely happy, thanks to her recent nuptials.

  “He’s just a guy,” I tell her. I don’t know why I always get so defensive with her, or any of my family for that matter. It’s my default setting.

  “We’re adults now, sis. You can tell me things.”

  I don’t need to make this into another therapy session; I’ve had enough of those already. I vow to try, really try, to make an effort with her tonight. I walk to the counter and pour us each a shot. “Let’s celebrate our new sister.” One you’ll actually get along with, I think, but don’t add. I’d bet she’s thinking the same thing, anyway.

  We down the tequila and my older sister makes a face as if I gave her poison. I pour us each one more shot and I’m sure Carson is already in the neighborhood of drunk. Since she had her daughter at twenty, she never got a chance to party. Maybe if she had we’d have more in common.

  Glancing at her, I clock her rosy cheeks. She faces me and takes my hands in hers. “I don’t know if it’s this new boyfriend or the therapy or what, but you seem different. Happier. More open, maybe? I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, okay? Besides, anything you tell me now will be forgotten by morning, but I love you Flynnie and I just want you to be happy. It’s all we’ve ever wanted for you.” She kisses my cheek and I form a tight smile. It’s the best I can offer.

  Once everyone is wasted, we drag Liv to a strip club, much to her dismay and my utter amusement. Watching the prude interact with half-naked men is bound to be entertaining. We grab a table and order a round of drinks. We place Olivia front and center to give the strippers a clue about who to focus on. Her face is already redder than a pubescent boy with a face full of acne scars.

  The lights dim and the music starts. A large group of too-old yet thirsty women to our left holler with excitement. The stench of horny chicks and a few gays fill the space and all I can think is how I’m in my fucking element.

  I down a shot, though I’m already drunk and ready to be surrounded by hot, half-naked men. Fuck. Yes.

  Still, I won’t lie to myself. I wish I were with one naked man in particular. Liam. Just thinking his name causes my body to have a physiological reaction. My breathing turns rapid, both my palms and panties get damp. God, what is it about him?

  Nothing a little phone sex can’t cure.

  “I’m running to the bathroom,” I tell Carson.

  “The show’s starting.” She’s appalled I’m going to willingly skip out on male strippers, but she’s too drunk to question me further.

  Instead of heading to the restroom to wait in line surrounded by a bunch of drunk chicks, I head toward the entrance. I pause by the coat check. Because it’s mid-summer, it’s empty, which gives me ample privacy.

  He didn’t respond to my last text, so I shoot off one more before I resort to dialing his number.

  Flynn: Are you up?

  God, I sound like a creepy ass fuckboy looking to score.

  It’s not quite midnight yet. There’s no way he’s asleep, but he still doesn’t respond.

  Instead of waiting any longer, I give him a call. The anticipation of hearing his sultry voice has my panties growing wetter by the second.

  “Hello?” The voice that answers is not one I was expecting. I recognize it, but I can’t place it.

  “Oh, hi. Sorry. I must’ve pressed the wrong number. I’m looking for Liam.” My heart starts palpitating out of control. I pull my phone from my ear and note that clear as day, the screen reads Liam. So why is a woman answering his phone? And why does that piss me off so much? Like a territorial lioness ready to attack.

  “He’s in the shower. Can I take a message?” My stomach drops at the tidbit of information.

  “Tell him Flynn called.”

  “Flynn, huh? This is Miranda, but I’ll be sure to pass along the message.” Her sneer rings loud and clear through the line. She’s high and mighty as if she caught us in the act, but she still can’t prove shit. I could be in the middle of
a crisis and calling my therapist for help. How the hell would she know?

  Before I can retort, the line goes dead.

  My sodden brain takes too long to put the pieces together, but as soon as I do, I’m pissed.

  Why the hell was his ex-wife at this place at midnight? And why is she answering the phone while he’s in the shower? Man’s got some explaining to do.

  Thirteen

  Liam

  “What the hell are you doing?” I tug my shirt the rest of the way over my torso, the fabric clinging to my still-damp skin.

  Miranda showed up at my doorstep almost an hour ago as I was getting back from the gym. She was crying, though I suspect it was all a ruse. Instead of letting her make a scene, I invited her in, which was my first mistake.

  After downing a drink and negating all my hard work from my workout, I jumped in the shower, unable to listen to her hysterics any longer. I’ll have to scrub away at her lingering bullshit in a second shower later, but this one was still necessary.

  “Your phone wouldn’t shut up and you were in there for ages. It’s not like I went through your texts; I need your new password for that.” She mutters under her breath. “Did you have to rub one out to me before you came back?”

  “Who was it?” My words are pure grit and I refuse to play into her games.

  “Your patient, Flynn. There must be a real emergency for her to call you at this hour.” Her voice drips with sarcasm, like she knows something.

  “It probably was important, which is a main reason you shouldn’t be answering my phone. All of my patients have my personal line in case of an emergency.” It’s not a complete lie, however, I have a completely separate phone for those circumstances. “Tell me why you’re here, Miranda.”

  “Have you thought about what I said to you?” Every word out of her mouth is bullshit; it’s hard to keep track of what she’s referring to. “Regarding the lawsuit.” She’s really fucking going there.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “This isn’t a joking matter, Liam. I figured now was as good a time as any since the anniversary is coming up.”

  “It’s been almost six years. We should be remembering her together. Not fighting.” She shrugs like the heartless bitch she is. “God, look at you. Did you even love her? Was Emily anything more to you than a trap?”

  She seethes and her nostrils flare. “I loved her more than anything in the entire world. How dare you?” Her voice cracks and for the first time in years, real, raw emotion floods to the surface. I didn’t think she was capable of feeling anything.

  Fuck. I cross the room to where she’s standing, her vulnerability drawing me in. It’s a curse of the trade—my desperate need to help people.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper as I tug her into a hug. “When did we become like this? What happened to us?” In the broad sense, I already know the answer. Some couples come together when they lose a child, supporting one another through the tough times. Instead, we fell apart.

  I move to pull away, but she clings to me, looking into my eyes. The familiar scent of her perfume fills my senses, wrapping me in a warm, comfortable hug.

  What happens next is in slow motion, and yet I don’t get a chance to stop her. She leans in, pushing onto her tiptoes and presses her lips to mine. The feeling is somehow both foreign and familiar all at once.

  When I snap out of it and back into reality, I push her away. “Miranda, stop, we can’t be doing this shit.”

  “It’s nice to know I can still get in your head.” She smirks, proud of herself as she wipes the corners of her mouth with her thumb and forefinger.

  I drag an angry hand over my face, wiping the remnants of her kiss away from my mouth. What a fucking manipulative bitch. She steps to me, running her palms up my chest. The scrape of her nails are the crypt keeper’s claws ready to drag me back to hell. “Come on, baby, one last fuck. You remember how good it used to be, don’t you?”

  “It hasn’t been good for a very long time.” Hence the divorce—and her habit of fucking her tennis instructor.

  “While you’re out fucking your twelve year old girlfriend, remember what I said.”

  “Let it go, Mandy. What could you possibly sue me for? She had cancer. What could I have done?” My voice gets progressively louder. The longer I talk, the angrier I get.

  I storm to the wet bar and grab a glass. With a heavy hand, I pour double the normal amount of scotch into the tumbler and down it.

  “Maybe if you were a little more present. Maybe if you didn’t insist that her stomachache was all in her head. Maybe if you would’ve been home more instead of fucking your pubescent patients when we were married.”

  I throw the glass in my hand and it shatters against the wall in an angry explosion not so different from how our marriage imploded. “I wasn’t unfaithful during our marriage and that’s more than you can say. I never fucked any patients while we were married.”

  “I’m supposed to believe you only started fucking her after we split up?”

  “What the fuck does Flynn have to do with this?” She smirks and that’s when I realize what I just did. I slipped up. She trapped me and I played right into her hand. I’m utterly screwed.

  A Cheshire cat grin appears on Miranda’s face and it nauseates me. Fuck. “I knew it. God, you’re sick. You’re a predator.” Her words are nasty, but her face is alight with this information knowing she caught me.

  “Have you forgotten that you left me? You’re the one who cheated. Tell me, how is Derek, anyway?”

  “Wouldn’t know. I’m with John now.”

  “Your divorce lawyer? I guess that’s how you paid him. And you think I’m sick.” I shake my head.

  “You’re screwing a child, Liam.”

  “She’s legal!” I roar and succeed in digging myself deeper into this hole. She’s going to sell me out. I need to stop her. I need to protect Flynn and my job.

  “Name your price and get the hell out.”

  “Half a million and you have my word that I’m out of your life for good.” With a sickening grin, she struts out of the room. If I didn’t already shatter my glass, I would now.

  “FUCK.”

  Fourteen

  Flynn

  Birds and sunshine must be elements created by the antichrist. In my last life, I must’ve been nocturnal, because fuck this shit. My head is throbbing, but it’s nothing a little hair of the dog can’t fix.

  I’m face down on the Airbnb bed and when I lift my head, I notice my sister is sitting on the bed beside me, staring at me. She’s holding two cups in her hand and I pray they are both coffee and that one of them is for me.

  I lean up on my right arm and stretch out my left one in a silent demand for the cup of Joe.

  “Christ, cover yourself.” The sheet had fallen to display my nakedness. I sleep in the nude—sue me. I tug the sheet up around my torso and pin the fabric under my arms.

  “Happy?” She leans over to hand me the cup and I drink it back, happy it’s merely lukewarm and that the bitterness helps to clear my head. “I’m surprised you’re sitting upright this morning.” Carson is a lightweight on her best day and last night was far from her best.

  “I got it out of my system last night.” She shudders. “How are you feeling? You hit it pretty hard last night.” Her tone conveys disappointment and I feel like I’m one of the guys in The Hangover, missing half of the story. What the hell happened last night?

  “I’ll be fine.” After several awkward moments of scrutiny, I snap. “Why are you still staring at me?”

  “Do you remember anything from last night?” I think it over. The last thing I remember is calling Liam and the cunt answering his phone.

  “My boyfriend’s ex answered his phone last night when I called.” My pissy mood explains my fuzzy morning. I don’t even latch onto the fact that I just called him my boyfriend.

  “I don’t know anything about your relationship, but maybe you should’ve let him explain bef
ore reacting the way you did.” I grit my teeth at her holier than thou speech.

  “Exactly. You don’t know anything about it. Save your judgment for someone else.”

  “All I’ll say is, even if he cheated, it doesn’t mean you had to too.” She gets up to leave, but I stop her.

  “Wait. What are you talking about?” I already told her I have no idea about what happened last night. I need her to fill me in.

  “After you came back from the bathroom, it was very clear how pissed off you were. You did a bunch of shots before paying for a private room for one of the dancers. You took some of the girls with you, so I wasn’t worried. I left and came back here around one and you stumbled in around five this morning mumbling about missing panties and coke.”

  Shit.

  Well, for one thing, I didn’t have underwear on when I started the night, so I’m not worried about that. I don’t feel like I’ve been fucked, but maybe the stripper had a small dick? Unless I hooked up with one of the chicks behind the bar. Either way, if anything happened, I fucked up.

  “Did I go back to the room with a girl or a guy?”

  “It was a guy. One of the strippers.”

  “Did you happen to see his dick?”

  “Excuse me!?” Her eyes turn into saucers and judgment screams loud and clear all over her face. I’ll take her answer as a no.

  If I took some of Liv’s friends with me, I’m sure nothing happened. Although, an audience has never stopped me before.

  “Knock knock!” Before I can ask any more questions, the door swings open and Olivia is bright-eyed and bushy-tailed on the other side. She strolls into the room and I’m surprised she’s not nursing a killer hangover this morning.

  I throw the covers off myself and grab my bag before heading into the bathroom. “Shit, sorry!” Liv squeaks as embarrassment reddens her cheeks. I ignore her and let Carson deal with her while I get dressed.

  I opt to take a shower in hopes the water will rinse away the remnants of my wild night, but I’m also praying the water brings clarity. It’s not like Liam and I are dating, but he made it pretty clear he doesn’t want me sleeping with anyone else. I don’t even want to sleep with anyone else. Well, sober me doesn’t want to anyway; drunk me is a whole different bitch.