Something Reckless (Dirty Southern Secrets Book 3)

by J. L. Leslie

  I have had more broken bones than I can remember, two concussions, and countless numbers of stitches. But like Brynn said, I’m comfortable on the back of a bull.

  Brynn Oakwood.

  I grip my dick and use my other hand to lean against the shower wall. The water pelts down on my back, and I move my hand up and down. I answered all her questions last night. I told her how long I train for each event, my exercise regime, hell, I even told her my fucking diet.

  Did she once ask me anything I wanted her to? Anything real?

  No.

  And she never will because she’s my brother’s ex-fucking-wife. Frustrated, I let go of my rock-hard cock and turn the water off. It serves me right to have a case of blue balls. I shouldn’t be thinking of Brynn the way I do, the way I have been.

  Sure, Kaler has moved on and is re-married. He and Jenna are happy together, and even though Jenna is Brynn’s best friend, it doesn’t make the fact that I want to jump Brynn’s bones acceptable. It is definitely not acceptable, and at no point in time will it ever be.

  I towel off and grab a pair of jeans from my closet. I pull a button-up shirt from a hanger and tug it on before picking up my church shoes. I finish up in the bathroom, not bothering to run a comb through my hair, but running my hand over it instead, and head out.

  I open the door to my truck and wince at the smell. I left my boots in here last night, and the fucking stench is awful. I grab them and toss them on the back of the truck, opting to ride to church with my windows down to air it out.

  When I pull into the parking lot, I park in the back where I usually do. At least back there, no one can smell my boots. I get out and make my way across the lot, spotting Brynn and Willow. I burst out laughing when Willow tosses her shirt onto the ground and takes off running. I’m pretty sure she thinks she’s a boy because the first thing she does when she gets to my parents’ house on Sundays for lunch is take her shirt off. Apparently, that habit is spreading into other places.

  I jog over and snatch her up, tickling her side and making her giggle. I toss her over my shoulder and carry her back over to Brynn. Willow twists away from her when she reaches for her.

  “Willow, come on, get your shirt on,” Brynn urges, sounding exasperated.

  Willow simply shakes her head now and clings to my neck. I can instantly see the defeated look on Brynn’s face. She’s beating herself up over something as simple as Willow not wanting to get dressed.

  “Hey, silly girl,” I say to Willow, taking the shirt from Brynn. “Get your shirt on.”

  She laughs and holds her arms out, letting me slip the shirt over her head without fussing. Brynn helps with her arms, and just like that, Willow is dressed again, and Brynn is smiling.

  All is right with the world.

  4

  Brynn

  The three of us walk inside the church together and under any other circumstances, being out in public with Kipton and Willow might seem strange, but his entire family goes to this church. It is not uncommon for us to be seen together here. Besides, we’re all friends and get along.

  Kipton carries Willow over to the pew where his dad, Neil, is already seated with Tauren and Kaler. His mom and Jenna usually sing in the choir, so they’ll be out to join us soon. I know it was difficult for a while for Helene to come here. Her daddy was the preacher, and he completely disapproved of her marriage to Tauren. He disowned her and moved to Georgia, where Helene’s grandparents live.

  One of the deacons has been filling in until we can find a full-time preacher. That isn’t always easy in a town this small, but as long as no one complains about the preaching, they don’t really care who’s doing it. Helene’s daddy was also the sheriff, so for now, his deputy is filling in as interim sheriff. Not everyone is pleased with Deputy Moulder, but from what I understand, he did officially apologize to both Tauren and Helene for his wrongdoings. Of course, that doesn’t mean he’s been forgiven.

  I wave at a few people and slip in behind Kipton and sit between him and Tauren. He glances over at me and then to Kipton, one eyebrow arched.

  “Did the two of you ride together?” Tauren asks, a mischievous grin on his handsome face. He always was a shit-stirrer, and his looks let him get away with it.

  It’s no secret that all the Holt brothers are good looking. There isn’t a female in Chapelwood who doesn’t appreciate their boyish charms. I’ve heard more than one waitress at Happy’s joke that they’ll settle for any of the Holt brothers, and now that Kipton is the only single one, their sights are set on him. I denied the jealous rage that coursed through me.

  “Seriously?” Kipton rolls his eyes, and Tauren chuckles.

  “Just figured you were giving her an exclusive for the paper,” he smarts.

  “Ignore him,” Kipton tells me, and Tauren gives me a wink.

  Willow crawls out of Kipton’s lap and over to Tauren, her other favorite uncle. She has both of them wrapped around her little fingers. There’s hardly a soul in this town that she doesn’t have wrapped.

  “What do you want for lunch today, sweet girl?” Tauren asks her.

  “Ketchup,” she answers, surprisingly saying the word correctly.

  I know Jenna has been working hard with her at school, and the extra tutoring she receives from Helene has been paying off as well. Her communication is getting much better. I’m blessed that my baby has two teachers in the family to help her.

  This past Christmas, I bought her an iPad and loaded it down with all sorts of educational games. Kaler told me she plays on his all the time, so I figured it would be good to have one at my place, too. Now, when she’s asked what she wants for Sunday lunch, she usually replies correctly.

  “I think we can handle that,” Neil replies with a laugh and pulls her into his lap. “You know we’ll fix you whatever you want.”

  Angie and Neil pretend to be the stern grandparents, both of them having told Kaler and me when we had Willow that we needed to make sure not to spoil her. I suppose that was so they could do all the spoiling. Then again, I wouldn’t necessarily know exactly how much spoiling my own daughter had. I missed the first five years of her life.

  When I see how easily she interacts with Kaler’s family, I am reminded of how much I missed out on. All the firsts I didn’t experience. All the memories I am not a part of. The bonding that I have yet to do. She’s even closer to my own parents than she is with me.

  Willow gets down and comes over to me, climbing onto my lap. She does this the entire service now that we don’t take her back to the nursery. Kaler thinks she’s getting too old for the nursery. Maybe I’m a softie, but I think the nursery is just fine for her. Maybe that’s also because I want to be the nice parent and give in to her.

  It does cross my mind that had she been a typical child, without her diagnosis of Down Syndrome, would she have been so forgiving? Am I blessed with her ability to move past the fact that I abandoned her because she simply doesn’t know any better? If so, I will do everything in my power to make good on that.

  I’m getting a second chance, and this time I won’t screw up. I have to focus on Willow and only Willow. She deserves that. She deserves everything.

  5

  Kipton

  My daddy makes good on his promise to Willow, giving her a generous portion of ketchup to go with her fish. Although she can say ketchup pretty well, she hasn’t quite gotten fish down right and still says it with a “p.” I’m pretty sure she does it more out of habit than not being able to. If you make her repeat it a few times, she says it correctly.

  Each Sunday, we have lunch at my parents’ house. It’s a tradition that’s been going on since high school. It doesn’t matter how busy we all are; we make it a point to come. I’ll probably miss this the most when I’m on the road.

  “Have you put in your notice yet?” Kaler asks, passing me the mashed potatoes.

  Those are another of Willow’s favorites, and I chuckle every time she asks for them because I swear it sounds like
she’s asking for “titties.”

  “Tomorrow,” I answer.

  I will officially be going on sabbatical from the Hendrix Accounting Firm. I’m hoping my boss will accept that and not require me to turn in my resignation. I’ve been working there ever since I got my certification, which was right after high school. I actually make damn good money there and hope to retire from my position one day when my rodeoing days are over.

  “Old man Leighton is going to be pissed,” Tauren comments. “Who’s going to launder all that money for him with his top accountant gone?”

  “I’d be more worried about Kipton telling all his secrets,” Kaler adds.

  “Cut it out,” I tell the two of them.

  “Everyone wants to know what goes on at the Hendrix Accounting Firm,” Brynn puts in.

  “Oh, come on,” I sigh, exasperated. “You’re not buying into my brothers’ ridiculous notions, are you?”

  Kaler and Tauren have both teased me about my boss, John Leighton, being some kind of money launderer for the drug cartel. They have no proof, only speculations, and that’s mainly because the Hendrix Accounting Firm doesn’t represent any businesses in our small town. Of course, despite their speculations, they have accepted investment advice from me, and it’s paid off for them. Kaler owns his own land, and Tauren now has a nice retirement account set up for him and Helene.

  “You have to admit; it’s a little strange, Kipton,” Brynn says, her tone going serious. “Even the paper has been interested in the company but John refuses to do any interviews.”

  “He’s a private man,” I quip, taking a bite of my mashed potatoes.

  Willow points at me and yells, “Taties!”

  Her faux pas brightens the mood, and everyone moves past grilling me about my job. When we finish eating, Tauren is quick to remind me that it’s my turn to clean the kitchen. Helene and Jenna do help to clear the table while Kaler scoops Willow up to get the mashed potatoes and ketchup cleaned off her.

  I run some water in the sink, squirting some dish detergent in so that it gets nice and soapy before I start placing dirty dishes in. I can hear the women chatting, but after a few minutes, it gets quiet, so I figure they’ve taken their conversation into the living room or onto the porch.

  “Sorry if I overstepped,” Brynn says, placing a few dirty plates in the sink.

  For a moment, her hand brushes against mine, and if I didn’t know any better, I would think she let it linger there before pulling her hand out of the water and rinsing it off.

  “You didn’t,” I reply.

  “It’s getting less awkward,” she muses, nodding back toward the table.

  I know she means the lunches. When she first came back, she wasn’t exactly welcomed with open arms. My parents weren’t sure how they felt about her returning to Chapelwood. Kaler wasn’t either, but she wanted a second chance to be part of Willow’s life, and no matter how badly she fucked up, she was still her mama.

  If there’s one thing I know about this family, they don’t turn their back on you. They may not have given Brynn the warmest welcome, but they definitely didn’t turn her away. The invitation for Sunday lunch was always open. It took her a few months to start coming regularly, but now she’s here every Sunday with the rest of us.

  “You belong here,” I let her know. “You always have.”

  She nods. “It’s starting to feel that way again.”

  6

  Brynn

  The Chapelwood Courant is a small, local newspaper in Chapelwood and is only a five-minute drive from the elementary school. I get Willow dropped off Monday morning and go straight to work, sipping my coffee on the way.

  I park and grab my cup, making sure the lid is secure, and then get my purse. The building is actually a converted house that belonged to the newspaper founder, Gary Odom, and it works great for a paper this small. We only have three employees. The editor-in-chief, Ronald, and two reporters, myself being one of them.

  Once inside, I put my coffee on my desk and stash my purse in the bottom drawer. The other reporter, Mike, is at his desk already typing away on his keyboard. He greets me as I take a seat. I turn on my computer and sip on my coffee while it boots up.

  “Ellie dropped off the photos from the rodeo,” Mike says, pointing to an envelope on our master work desk.

  I eagerly hop up and head over to the big table we call our master work desk, anxious to see what she sent over. Ellie is a freelance photographer we often use for big events.

  I open the envelope and take the photos out, placing them on the table, careful not to disturb any of Ronald or Mike’s layouts for the upcoming week’s paper.

  Ellie always does a great job. Her action shots are spectacular. It’s too bad we won’t get to use all of these shots. She has several amazing photos of the riders.

  “Does Ronald know which one he’s using for the front page?” I ask, still sorting out the photos.

  “I think he flagged it,” he replies. “It’s one of the winner.”

  I figured it would be one of Kipton. I come to the flagged , and my breath catches in my throat. I expected it to be a victory shot. Maybe one of him smiling at the crowd after his ride, or when he was in the winner’s circle. Ronald chose an action shot.

  Kipton is pure cowboy perfection on top of that bull. Not sure how it’s possible to look so comfortable on top of a bucking bull. His head is tilted down, but I can still see his face and although he’s clearly concentrating, it almost seems as though he has a ghost of a smirk.

  “He picked a good one,” I comment.

  “Did you get the interview?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I swear, that Holt kid is going to go all the way,” Mike states with confidence. “It’s his year.”

  Ronald walks in during this conversation and comes to stand beside me at the table. “That is absolutely correct. Can you believe it? Someone from Chapelwood is going to be a rodeo legend.”

  He picks up one of the photos, and it’s one from the winner’s circle. Kipton is standing there with the top-ranking riders of the night.

  “And we’re going to be there with our hometown hero every step of the way,” he beams. “Which one of you wants to go on assignment?”

  “Assignment?” I ask, confused.

  “Ronald, you know I would love to, but Shelly would kill me if I went on the road this close to the wedding,” Mike replies.

  I almost roll my eyes. Mike and Shelly have been together for twenty years, and it’s a vow renewal, not a wedding.

  Ronald looks at me expectantly, and I’m unsure how to answer him. I didn’t even realize a paper as small as the Chapelwood Courant even went on assignments where traveling is required.

  “Ronald, I have a daughter at home.”

  “That you don’t have full custody of,” he says, and his words sting.

  He’s right, but I’m rebuilding my relationship with her. Hell, I’m rebuilding my relationship with everyone in this town, and I don’t want to screw things up by bolting again. An assignment may be temporary, but I know how well that will go over with Kaler and his parents. I can’t go traveling for the rodeo and leave Willow behind. They would see that as me bolting again.

  “I can’t leave my daughter,” I say firmly. “And I don’t think being on the road with a bunch of cowboys is appropriate.”

  He pulls out his phone and does some scrolling on his screen. “I want three stories, Brynn. I don’t care which events you go to, but make it work somehow. If he makes it to the championship, you have to be there for that. How does that sound?”

  “All expenses paid?” I ask, hating that I’m giving in so easily.

  “Of course.”

  “I can make that work.”

  I check the schedule and make sure I can work events when I don’t have visitation with Willow. If they’re close enough, maybe Kaler will allow her to come with me.

  Besides, if Ronald thinks he’s going to make me choose between this job and Will
ow, he’ll be looking for another journalist.

  7

  Kipton

  Despite what my brothers may think about John Leighton, I consider this man to be a mentor. The only other man I think of like that, look up to, is my daddy.

  I was young and very out of control my junior year of high school. I was spending every afternoon and weekend exhausting myself trying to find a way to burn the energy running through me. I always had to be doing something, and bulldogging and roping calves wasn’t cutting it anymore. I would run myself ragged going from one event to the other, and then I would crash.

  My daddy told me that I needed some sort of balance in my life. That I may be an adrenaline junkie, but I needed something to focus on, something to bring me down when I couldn’t run out and compete in an event. I started a rigorous fitness regime and worked out a couple of hours every afternoon after school.

  That worked to an extent. Then, I met John at a job fair at school one day. He’d seen me at an event and knew who I was. He told me my body wouldn’t be worth a shit for doing rodeo if my mind wasn’t sharp, too. Same thing Daddy had told me.

  I changed my standard classes to advance classes, which meant more homework for me, but it actually helped me, especially the math classes. It’s strange, but numbers are kind of my thing. My mama would give me those Sudoku puzzles to do to pass the time between events, anything to keep my mind working so I wouldn’t focus on needing physical activity to exhaust my body.