Reckless (The Mason Family Series Book 3)

by Adriana Locke

  “You’re welcome,” he says and looks at me like I should come and get her.

  I hold my hands out. “Excuse me? I bought you that dog, thank you very much!”

  Everyone laughs, amused at Wade getting the glory. Again.

  Definitely, positively at the bottom of my favorite brother list.

  “I already love you, Boone,” Rosie says, a giggle kissing her words.

  My heart explodes.

  “What are you going to name it?” Bellamy asks from her spot under the umbrella.

  “Um … I don’t know. Fluffy?” Rosie looks at me. “Do you like that name?”

  I grin at her. “I love it.”

  She pets the dog's head as it snaps at her playfully. “Hi, Fluffy. I love you.” She sets the dog down, and off it goes, running like a madman across the yard. She chases after it with glee.

  Jaxi turns to talk to Mom, and I wander over to Hollis. I feel bad for not being a great friend to him lately. We’ve texted off and on, but I wish I had been more present.

  “Hey, man,” I say, clapping his shoulder. “How are you?”

  He gets to his feet and pulls me into a one-armed hug. “I’m good. Hanging in there. You know how it goes.”

  I’m not sure whether to bring up his sister or not. But, like the solid guy Hollis is, he knows I’m thinking it and brings it up himself.

  “I’m going to Indiana next week for a few days,” he says. “Trying to find my little sister. Hell, she’s not even that little anymore. I keep forgetting that.”

  “Any leads?”

  He shakes his head. “A couple but nothing I feel too good about. But those little towns up there—you have to be there, on the ground, to get anything done. I hope someone at a coffee shop where we used to live remembers her or knows her.”

  “I can’t imagine, Hollis. But if you need anything, I’m there for you, man. Want me to go with you?”

  It would be a logistical nightmare with everything I have to do. The Greyshell contract seems to have been handed off to me by Holt. Then Jaxi and Rosie and the house hunting we’re doing because living next to Ted will wind up with my girl in jail before it’s over. But I’ll make it work if it helps Hollis.

  Libby amazed me by coming today. Just goes to show how strong she is. She’s even talking about moving back to Savannah in a few weeks. That would be great for Jaxi and Rosie.

  And me. I love her cooking.

  He grins. “Nah, man. I need to do this on my own. This is my story I have to finish, you know?” He laughs. “Well, you probably don’t know, but that’s how I feel.”

  “I get it.”

  “I mean, who knows what I’ll find …” His voice drops off. “Anyway, let’s meet up when I get back.”

  “For sure.”

  He sits back down, and I avoid eye contact with anyone as I slip to the side of the house.

  My phone rings. I can’t see the screen because of the sun, but I answer it anyway.

  “Hello?” I say.

  “I’m sorry I’m late,” Oliver says. The sound of a car engine roars through the line. “I got stuck in traffic and am about fifteen minutes out.”

  “It’s okay. Just be careful. There’s still a ton of food left.”

  “Did you give her the dog yet?”

  I laugh. “Yeah. She’s calling it Fluffy, so you know, that’s going to be weird to yell across the lawn when I let it out to piss in the middle of the night.”

  He laughs too. “I hate I missed seeing her get it. Little shit. I bet she loved it.”

  It fills me with happiness that my family loves my girls as much as I do. It makes things … perfect.

  “I bought her a—fuck!”

  The sound of metal crashing together and squealing tires interrupts his words.

  My blood grows cold. “Oliver?”

  “What? Fuck! Hang on.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. Just … Shit!”

  “What happened?” I ask, my stomach twisting into a knot.

  A door opens. “Nothing. I’m fine. Someone just ran into the side of my fucking car.” He groans. “I gotta go. I’m fine. Don’t panic.”

  “Want me to come?”

  “No.” He pauses. “Shit. I gotta go. It’s fine, Boone. I’ll be there when I can.”

  With that, the fucker hangs up.

  I stand, staring at my screen and wondering what to do. Should I go to him anyway? Should I tell Mom?

  I look at her laughing so easily with Libby near the pool.

  Definitely not telling Mom.

  My phone buzzes. Oliver’s name is on the screen.

  Oliver: It’s all fine. Really. Have fun at the party. I’m going to be here for a second so I’ll see you when I see you.

  Me: You sure?

  Oliver: Yes. Gotta go deal with this shit.

  I’m sure he will. He’ll come out smelling like a rose. It’s Oliver, after all.

  I shove my hands in my pockets and take in the sight before me. It’s hard to believe that this is my life.

  A few months ago, I never would’ve thought this kind of life was even a possibility for me. It was something my brothers had. Other people had. I wasn’t even smart enough to know I really wanted it.

  Maybe I needed it.

  But then this woman drops like a gift from above who proved to be the missing link in my life. It’s as though the heavens sent her to me so the other things—the good things, the important things—could find me.

  I’m so fucking lucky.

  My gaze snaps to the side, and I see Jaxi walking toward me. Her hair is blowing in the breeze like an old music video. I’m grinning when she gets to me.

  “What are you doing over here?” she asks, wrapping her arms around my neck.

  “Oh, just thinking about how attractive you are.”

  In so many ways.

  She licks her lips. “So, I had a thought …”

  “And?”

  “And I’ve decided my love language is physical touch. And maybe since everyone out here is busy and Libby winked at me and started playing with Rosie like she knows what I’m thinking …” Her hands slip over my shoulders and onto my chest. “Maybe we could run inside and—”

  “Say no more.” I grin wickedly. “Let’s go inside and get naked. I’m going to bend you over the—”

  “Boone!”

  My forehead falls to Jaxi’s.

  “Again?” I ask. “How does she do that?”

  Jaxi giggles. “At least she sleeps in her bed now.”

  “Excellent point.” I kiss my fiancée on the lips before looking up. “What’s up, Rosie?”

  “The puppy licked my watch!”

  Jaxi makes a face at me. The light in her eyes, the happiness there, makes everything worth it.

  “I got this,” she says, patting me on the stomach as she walks away. “I’m coming, Rosie.”

  I lean against the fence.

  The sun is shining. My family is gathered. There is a ton of food that, thankfully, Jaxi did not fix.

  This is what life’s about.

  I still don’t really understand my brothers’ love of spreadsheets. I don’t get off on numbers, and I don’t spend nearly as many hours at the office as they do.

  But I get it. I get it now.

  It’s not about the work or the reports or the success at the end of the day. It’s knowing that you showed up for your family. You contributed to the cause. You put your time and effort into something that will benefit the whole team. And I’m a part of that. I contribute to that. I have my part to play.

  My brothers show up the same way to life—their individual lives, my life, each other’s lives. They’re all in. They’re as committed to my happiness as they are their own.

  And that’s what life’s about.

  So, yeah, I get it now.

  I push off the fence to find Jaxi.

  In the spirit of family, I should try to expand ours. And there’s no better time to star
t that than now.

  What happened to Oliver? Read RELENTLESS, coming July 22nd. Preorder now.

  Notes from the Author

  Notes from the Author

  What should you do now?

  I’m glad you asked!

  The two best places to stay up-to-date with me are via my Locke List newsletter and my Facebook Group, Books by Adriana Locke. (Join us! It’s fun!)

  What should you read now?

  Holt Mason’s book is live now. Read Restraint.

  Boone Mason’s book is live now. Read Reputation.

  Oliver Mason’s book is coming on July 22nd. Preorder Relentless.

  Wade Mason’s book is coming on October 22nd. Preorder Resolution.

  I think you would enjoy my book, Sway, too. You can purchase that HERE. But, I’ll tell you what—I’ll give you the first chapter right now. Keep reading.

  Chapter One: Sway

  Sway

  Landry Family Series #1

  Chapter One

  Alison

  “This is a single girl’s paradise.”

  “No,” I grimace, blotting the spilled cheese sauce from my shirt. “Paradise would be a tropical island with a hot cabana boy at my beck and call ... and an endless supply of mojitos.”

  Lola laughs, the sound barely heard over the chaos of the kitchen. Chefs shouting instructions, event planners panicking, plates being dropped—the world of catering is a noisy endeavor.

  I step to the side to allow Isaac, a fellow server and Lola’s gorgeous friend with benefits, to scamper to the ballroom a few feet away. He’s tall with a head full of dark curls and a laugh that makes you involuntarily smile. Lola is crazy for keeping him at arm’s length, but that’s how she operates. He has little money; she has limited interest.

  “Cabana boys may have hot bodies and virility, Alison, but they lack two very important qualities: fame and fortune.”

  “So, what you’re saying is that you’d take a limp dick over a hard one? Interesting,” I say, rolling my eyes and tossing the sauce-soaked rag into the linen bin.

  “No, that’s not what I’m saying, smart ass. I’m saying I’d take a solid bank account over a solid cock. Think about it—with all that money, he could never fuck me at all and I wouldn’t care.”

  “If that’s the case,” I retort, grabbing another tray of drinks, “there are tons of opportunities out there to not get fucked.”

  I laugh at the dreamy look on her face, partly because it’s hilarious and partly because I know she’s not kidding.

  Lola and I are a lot alike. We both come from meager backgrounds and Luxor Foods is our second job. There’s no doubt we both would rather not be here because serving rich bitches can be a very humbling experience. But they are also the best parties to work because they tip. Very well. Of course it’s so they can feel above us most times, but we’ll take it. It’s money in our pockets, and if they get off on it in the process, good for them.

  That being said, Lo took this job to afford her manicures, pedicures, and eyelash extensions. I do it to take care of my son, Huxley. Lola’s first job is working at a salon and her career goals include marrying up in the world. I, on the other hand, work at Hillary’s House restaurant during the day and go to school for journalism in hopes to one day write pieces that might inspire someone.

  “Speaking of fucking,” she says, her eyes aglow, “did you see Mayor Landry?”

  “I love how you segued into that,” I laugh.

  “It’s a linear comparison. Tell me that fucking isn’t the first thing that comes to mind when you think of him, and I’ll call you a liar.”

  Of course it’s the truth. It’s the first thing that comes to mind … and maybe the second and third too.

  Thoughts of the recently crowned Most Eligible Bachelor make me a swoony mess. Barrett Landry’s thick, sandy brown hair that always looks perfectly coiffed, his broad, friendly smile that makes you feel like you could tell him your darkest secrets without judgment, his tanned skin, tight body, wide shoulders—the list goes on. But it all leads, as Lo so candidly pointed out, to thoughts of him stripped down and wearing only his charismatic grin.

  I shiver at the thought.

  “See?” she grins, waggling her finger in my face. “Linear comparison.”

  “I’ll give you that. He’s so seriously fine.”

  “Have you had a chance to get close to him? To breathe him in?”

  “Breathe him in?” My laughter catches the attention of our boss, Mr. Pickner. He twists his burly body our way, letting us know we’d better get to work.

  “I haven’t,” I say, turning back to Lola. “Even though I’ve been around men like Landry before—well, not quite like him, but as close as a mortal can be—I don’t think I could handle it, Lo. He scrambles my brain. I’d probably fall face first into him and dump the drinks in his lap. Then we’d both be wet.”

  She swipes a tray off the table and shoots a wink at Isaac as he walks back in. “It would so be worth it if you played your cards right. You could probably get away with running your hands through his hair and maybe even licking his stubbled jaw. A kiss would probably be over the top, but his Southern roots would keep him from causing a scene and asking for security.”

  “You’ve thought this through, haven’t you?” I ask in mock horror.

  “Of course I have and every other woman in here has too. Hell, half the men probably have,” she giggles. “In my fantasy, he gazes at me with those emerald green eyes and leans in and—”

  “Ladies! Back to work!”

  We sigh as Mr. Pickner barrels by. He’s an overweight, balding, temperamental asshole of a man, but he owns the premiere catering company in all of Georgia. So we deal. Barely.

  Lola bumps me with her hip. “Seriously. Stop being so goody-two-shoes and go out there and snag you a man and a retirement plan.”

  I bite my tongue. We’ve had this conversation a number of times before and she just doesn’t get it. I don’t fault her though. Most people don’t. They see the glitz and glamour, the designer labels and fine wine and get drawn in like a Siren’s call. That life looks too good to resist, too good to be true.

  The thing is—they’re exactly right. It is.

  She reads the look on my face and we start towards the door. “I know, I know. You lived like that once. It’s a fantasy, smoke and mirrors ...”

  “Yup.”

  “Well, I say I’ll play in the smoke as long as the mirrors make me pretty.”

  I snort, pushing open the door to the ballroom. “You go right ahead and dig that gold all the way down the aisle.”

  “I’ve got my shovel right here.” She shimmies her backside in my direction. “See that one over there?”

  Following her gaze across the room, I see a man I know is one of the Landry brothers. There are four of them and two sisters, twins, if I’m not mistaken. I don’t really follow that kind of thing much, but they’re basically Georgia royalty, and even avoiding current events as I do, you can’t help but pick up on some of their lives. Every newscast, it seems, has something Landry-related even when it’s not election season.

  “I’m going to check him out,” Lola says and takes off, leaving me standing with my tray of ridiculously overpriced champagne.

  I roam the outer edges of the elegant ballroom, giving a practiced smile to each person that plucks a drink off the tray. Some smile widely, some try to chit-chat, some completely ignore me like they probably do the paid staff at home. It’s fine by me.

  A few years ago, I attended events like this. Married to my college sweetheart, a newly minted judge in Albuquerque, we went to balls and galas and swearing-in ceremonies often. It was a magical time in my life, before the magic wore off and everything exploded right in my face.

  “Well, aren’t you a pretty little thing?”

  I spin to my right to see an older gentleman grinning at me like a snake ready to strike.

  “Would you like a drink?” I offer, knowing good and wel
l by the color in his cheeks that he’s already had more than enough.

  “No, no, that’s fine. I was actually just admiring you.”

  Pasting on a smile and tossing my shoulders back, I try to keep my voice even. “Thank you, sir. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

  “I was thinking,” he says, cutting me off, “how about you and I take a little stroll? Do you get my drift?”

  “With all due respect,” I say through clenched teeth, glancing at the wedding ring sparkling on his finger, “how about you take a stroll with your wife?”

  I swivel on my heels and head off as calmly as possible, blood roaring in my ears. I can hear his cackle behind me and I really want to turn around and slam my fist into his beefy face. It’s behavior that’s typical of people like this, thinking they can get away with whatever they want with the bourgeoisie. I just so happen to have an overdeveloped sensitivity to it, being that my husband did the same thing to me as soon as he got a little power.

  Lola catches my attention as I pause to settle down. She points discreetly to the other end of the room and mouths, “Over there.” The gleam in her eye tells me she's spotted the mayor, but I can't see him.

  I shuffle through the crowd and finally spy the man of the hour walking out, his arm around the waist of a woman that's been acting crazy all night. Her head is leaned on his shoulder, her hand resting on his backside. Laughing, I catch Lola's eye and nod to the exit.

  "Bitch," she mouths as she approaches the same man that approached me earlier. I want to warn her, but don’t. For one, I know it won’t do any good, and for two, I can’t take my eyes off Landry.

  People literally part for him to walk through. It's like he's Moses. They're more than willing to be led through the Red Sea, divided by his power and influence, and into the Promised Land.

  I’m off in space about what precisely that land might entail, when my shoulder is bumped, rustling me out of my Landry-induced haze.

  "Excuse me," I say. When I realize who I've just ignored, my cheeks heat in embarrassment. "I'm so sorry," I stutter, handing Camilla Landry, one of the Landry sisters, a glass of champagne.