Something Reckless (Dirty Southern Secrets Book 3)

by J. L. Leslie

  I would not call myself a nerd in any way, but I’ve never struggled in school. I wasn’t one of those who had to cram for tests. I could look over the study guide and notes a few minutes before the exam and simply retain the information.

  A career placement test is what lead me to accounting, the exact job I met John at during that job fair. I got my certification and started looking for a job. I knew seasonal work at the local H&R Block wasn’t for me, so I applied at the Hendricks Accounting Firm, hoping he would remember me. Luck would have it that he did, and I have been there ever since.

  John took me under his wing, and we clicked. He and his wife didn’t have any children, but we bonded almost instantly. I have taken care of his property before and overseen the firm while he’s been out on vacation. He trusts me, and I crave his approval just as much as I do my own parents.

  “I won’t tell you I’m not disappointed to hear this,” John says. “You’re a valuable asset to this company.”

  “Which is why I’m requesting a sabbatical and not turning in my notice,” I explain. “I have every intention of returning as soon as the season is over.”

  “You’ve dreamed of this a long time,” he muses, his eyes drifting over to the photo on his desk.

  I know without looking that it’s a photo of his late wife. She’s been gone for nearly four years now, but John hasn’t moved on. The two of them had a marriage that rivaled my own parents’. He lost her in a horrible car accident and blames himself to this day. They were supposed to be going on vacation together, but he canceled last minute to come in to work and sign on a big client. She opted to go without him. I’m still uncertain why he chose not to go when I could’ve signed that client. I will never question him on that, though.

  “Who am I to stand in the way of a man’s dreams?” He smiles warmly. “Your desk will be here when you return.”

  I sigh in relief and stand up. He extends his hand and I shake it, thanking him for understanding. Had he not approved of me leaving, I have no idea how I could’ve walked away.

  8

  Brynn

  I sit on my back porch with my laptop in my lap, watching Willow play with a few toys in the grass. She brushes some dirt off her hands and continues to push the dump truck with the doll in the back. Yes, that’s my girl. She loves her trucks and her dolls.

  When I found out I was pregnant, I had this vision in my mind that if we had a girl, I would dress her up in the beautiful dresses and put matching bows in her hair. We would have mother/daughter dates and do all things girly.

  If we had a boy, he would love all things outdoors. Kaler would take him fishing, hunting, and as he got older, he would get into sports. I would fuss about his stained-up clothes but would love the messes he made.

  My vision didn’t exactly turn out the way I thought it would. My sweet baby girl was born, and everything changed. Sure, I was caught completely off guard with her diagnosis of Down Syndrome, but I knew I could get past that. I had Kaler, our family, and his family.

  No, it wasn’t the diagnosis.

  It was the fact that when I looked at Willow, my own daughter, I had no desire to hold her. I had no desire to breastfeed her, nurture her. When I looked at her, I only felt sadness.

  My body ached and hurt. My boobs were leaking milk, urging me to feed her, and I only wanted them to stop so they wouldn’t be sore anymore. I had stretch marks that wouldn’t fade, pounds that I couldn’t lose, and let’s face it, my vagina was never going to be the same.

  I remember that all I could think were negative thoughts each time I heard Willow cry or whimper. The instinct to comfort her did not kick in, and that devastated me even further. I dwelled on what was wrong with me. On why I wasn’t meant to be a mother. On why I dreaded every aspect of motherhood.

  “Mommy, wook!” Willow calls out, wanting me to look at how she now has two dolls in the dump truck.

  “Yes, baby! Good job!” I say, smiling over at her.

  I tell myself to stop beating myself up over the years I missed with Willow. I was sick, and it took me a while to realize that. The point is that I did realize it, and I got help before I did something to harm my own child. Now, I can work on being the mama I always should’ve been.

  “I thought I heard you ladies back here.” I jump at Kipton’s voice, and he laughs. “Sorry, Brynn, didn’t mean to scare you.”

  Willow has quickly forgotten her dump truck and is up and running toward him. He picks her up and plants a kiss on her cheek.

  “Dum truh,” she says, pointing at her toys.

  “I see that,” he muses and drops down to his knees, putting her on the ground and sitting down beside her.

  “Everything all right?” I ask.

  “Kaler said he called to let you know I was picking her up for him.”

  “Oh,” I reply. “My phone is inside.”

  Kaler and I are still figuring out this whole visitation thing, but for the most part, we have it worked out. I get Willow every other weekend and one night each week. I also pick her up from school and keep her until four o’clock that way Jenna can do her planning, and he can finish up at the shop. It doesn’t cut into Willow’s tutoring with Helene and allows me a little extra time with her each day.

  “They’re still working on a car at the shop, so there’s no rush,” Kipton lets me know. “We’re just gonna sit here and take these girls for a ride.”

  He gets on all fours and pushes Willow’s dump truck around, her following behind him pushing a tractor. I laugh at the two of them before I go join them, grabbing a car and pushing it with them.

  “Mama silly,” Willow giggles, pointing at me.

  Kipton winks and smiles at me, and I ignore the fluttering in my stomach. He’s here to play with his niece. I’m the one crashing their party.

  The three of us continue playing together for a bit, pushing the dump trucks around as though we’re chauffeuring her Barbie dolls. After a while, Willow grows tired of this and tosses her dolls to the side, going over to Kipton and getting onto his back. I smile at the two of them, thinking how he’s going to be a wonderful father someday.

  “Bull!” she yells, pretending she’s a cowgirl.

  “Are we at a rodeo now?” I tease with a smile as Kipton gets onto all fours and crawls around with my daughter laughing and giggling.

  “Mama, get on!” she instructs.

  “Um, baby, mommy can’t ride Uncle Kipton.”

  As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I feel my cheeks burn a deep shade of red. To hide my embarrassment, I start gathering Willow’s toys. I scoop them up in my arms and get up, letting the two of them play. When I’ve put her toys in the basket on the porch, they’ve stopped, and Kipton is telling Willow to get her backpack. She bounds into the house and I pretend that I have more toys to pick up by messing with the ones already in the basket until she comes back out.

  I give my daughter a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you.”

  “Luh you, too!” she says enthusiastically and runs over to Kipton.

  “Have a good night, Brynn,” he says and then smirks. “And don’t worry. I won’t tell Tauren about that whole riding me comment. He would never let you live it down.”

  God, kill me now.

  9

  Kipton

  I find an empty spot and park my truck. I hate driving almost an hour to Westmont to go to the gym, but I have a strict fitness regime in order to stay in shape, and Chapelwood doesn’t have a local gym. Sure, I have equipment at my place, but I can’t get everything I need there, and I’m smart enough to know I don’t have enough self-control to commit to an online class. Besides, staying busy gives me something to do and keeps me out of trouble.

  I open the door and look for the schedule of classes. I missed my usual class playing Barbie chauffeur with Willow and Brynn. It was completely worth it, though. Especially when Brynn blushed the shade of crimson after her little slip-up. Christ, I shouldn’t have tea
sed her about it.

  Figuring she won’t hold that against me, I find a class and head to the men’s rooms to change. I slip into a pair of loose joggers and a white sleeveless tee, a far change from my jeans and cowboy boots. I grab a bottle of water from my bag and toss the bag in an empty locker before heading out.

  The class is about to start when I walk in, and I ignore the stares I get. It’s not the norm for a man to be in a yoga class, but yoga is what helps me stay strong but be adaptable, too. It’s about function, and I need the strength to remain on the bull but the capability to handle whatever the fuck the bull throws at me.

  I make my way to the back of the room to an empty mat, telling myself these women were not undressing me with their eyes. This is what I get for not making it to my usual class. I take a quick sip of my water and put it down before lowering myself to the floor.

  “Hi, I’m Pam,” the woman beside me introduces herself.

  “Hey, I’m…Brynn?” my voice trails as I spot my former sister-in-law walk in the room.

  Pam laughs. “Brynn?”

  “Um, no. Sorry. I’m Kipton.”

  “I think I saw you in the paper,” she comments, but my focus is on Brynn.

  She hasn’t spotted me yet. She’s smiling and chatting with the instructor as she pulls her hair into a ponytail and twists it into a knot on top of her head, a few brown tendrils escaping and falling down her back. I have asked myself a few times if I liked her better as a blonde but seeing her like this, with her natural color, I know the answer to that question.

  “That was you in the paper, right?” Pam asks, trying to gain my attention. “For the rodeo?”

  “Oh, yeah, that was me,” I reply.

  “The article said you’re going pro.”

  “I am.”

  Pam reaches over and places her hand on my thigh. “If you ever get lonely on the road, I’m happy to remind you how good it feels to be home.”

  I almost have to pick my fucking jaw up off the floor. It isn’t that women don’t flirt with me, because they do, but I am not used to a woman being so blunt. Okay, in total honesty, I probably don’t give them the opportunity to be so blunt. I’m a busy man, and now that I’m going pro, my schedule is only going to get busier. I simply haven’t and don’t make time for women.

  “I appreciate that, Pam,” I say, doing my best to sound polite. Mama didn’t raise an asshole.

  She slowly removes her hand as the instructor announces she’s ready to start the class. I glance around the room for Brynn and spot her in the front. I mentally curse myself for taking a spot in the back, but at least this way I can watch her. Fuck. What the hell am I thinking?

  I’m thinking it’ll be nice to see Brynn’s ass in the air while she’s in downward facing dog. That’s what I’m thinking.

  10

  Brynn

  I exhale, not wanting to get up from the mat. I can hear everyone else moving around, so I need to move, but I can’t find it in me just yet.

  “Are you going to lie in Corpse Pose all night?”

  I know that voice, but I tell myself it’s not possible. There is no way Kipton Holt is at a yoga class in Westmont. I open my eyes, and he stands above me, a gorgeous smile on his face.

  “I don’t recall you telling me yoga was part of your fitness regime,” I say as I sit up.

  He offers his hand, and I take it, letting him pull me to my feet. I ignore the sour look Pam Morton gives me. She’s had her butt on her shoulders ever since our former instructor, Leo, left.

  “I couldn’t reveal all my secrets,” he winks.

  I look down and realize he’s still holding my hand. Kipton glances down too, and lets go, dropping his hand to his side. I cross my arms over my chest.

  He clears his throat. “This isn’t my normal class, actually.”

  “No?”

  “No, I got caught up driving around some pretty important people,” he says, grinning. “Barbie and her friends had places to go.”

  I smile at that, and we start walking out. “Willow certainly enjoyed your company.”

  “And did you?” he asks, and I’m not sure I heard him correctly. “I mean, you don’t mind me stopping by like that, do you?”

  “Of course not.”

  “I wouldn’t want to ever intrude on anything you may have going on. I know spending time with Willow is important to you.”

  I place my hand on his arm, stopping him. “Kipton, you are never intruding.”

  Why am I touching him again? It’s like I have this unnatural instinct to hold his hand or touch his arm. It is unnatural, isn’t it? He was my brother-in-law. He’s my daughter’s uncle. It shouldn’t be an instinct to touch him.

  “I just, I would be intruding if you had plans or something for after your visitation. You know, a date or whatever,” he explains. “And I wouldn’t want to do that.”

  “Kipton, I’m a single mom who can’t get her shit together. There aren’t any dates or plans in my future. This class is the only plan I ever have.”

  My statement is meant to be a joke but saying it out loud makes me sound really sad, like a really sad, hot mess. Sad, but true. I can’t get my shit together. I am working on said shit, though.

  “You went through a lot, Brynn,” Kipton says.

  “And I put everyone through a lot, too,” I remind him.

  He sighs a little. “You never give yourself a break.”

  “I don’t deserve one,” I counter, and he opens his mouth to fire back but is interrupted when someone calls my name. I look over to see Shannon, a girl from the class.

  “We’re all going to Sally Sue’s. You in?”

  I nod. “Yeah, sure. I’ll meet ya’ll there.”

  “Sally Sue’s?” Kipton questions. “Why does that sound like Happy’s but not as fun?”

  I laugh at him. “Because it is like Happy’s but not as fun. You should join us.”

  He shakes his head at the group of women who pass by us on their way out. Not a man in sight. Of course, there weren’t any men in the yoga class, but that didn’t scare him off. One thing I know about Kipton is that he does not scare easily.

  “Not my scene.”

  “Oh, a bunch of women fawning all over you isn’t your scene? You were just in a class full of them.”

  “Not my usual class,” he reminds me. “Believe it or not, there are actually other men in the earlier class.”

  “Pam is obviously in the wrong class then,” I giggle.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  “I’ll go to Sally Sue’s,” he agrees. “Just no more talk about you not getting your shit together.”

  “Deal.”

  We part ways long enough to change and grab our things, and then we meet at the front of the gym. I don’t give myself the opportunity to question whether or not this is a good idea as Kipton pulls out behind me.

  11

  Kipton

  Sally Sue’s is a much larger establishment than Happy’s, the bar and grill in Chapelwood, but like Brynn said, it’s not as fun. We grew up going to Happy’s, so nothing can top that place. It’s a staple in Chapelwood.

  The food isn’t half bad, though. Where Happy’s has loaded nachos, Sally Sue’s has loaded fries, topped with three different cheeses, jalapenos, bacon, chives, and ranch drizzled over them.

  I’m on my second order.

  Don’t judge me.

  I am sharing them with a table full of women, and we know how women are about French fries. They pretend they don’t want any and then eat your entire order one fry at a time.

  “I still cannot believe we have a real-life bull rider at our table,” Shannon says, shoving a forkful of fries into her mouth. See what I mean. “If there was a mechanical bull in here, would you ride it?”

  “No,” I answer, dashing her hopes.

  I’ve learned that Shannon is who talked Brynn into joining the class. They met by chance while Brynn was doing a story for the Chapelwood Courant and S
hannon suggested she check out yoga. Brynn has been coming for a couple of months now.

  These women have talked and eaten the entire time we’ve been here while I’ve sat back and managed to sneak in a few bites and a couple of beers. I prefer they continue on their conversation about yoga and how they like this new instructor instead of turning their attention on me. I’m not big on conversations.

  “Okay, tell us more about the rodeo,” Pam puts in, obviously not wanting to talk about Leo and why he’s no longer their instructor. “Why bull riding?”

  “I like horses too much to try bronc riding.”

  “Have you ever gotten hurt?” Shannon asks, leaning forward for another forkful of fries. “Broken any bones?”

  “Oh my God, have you had a concussion before?” Pam asks.

  “Ladies, I really don’t like talking about myself,” I reply and look over at Brynn for some help. She just shrugs, her mouth full of fries. “I haven’t been seriously injured before. Only minor scrapes and bruises.”

  “But it’s dangerous, isn’t it?” Molly, another girl from the class, asks.

  “Yeah, but so is driving a car.” I shrug.

  “Holy crap, this is you!” Shannon exclaims, showing her phone to Pam. “This is him!”

  I can hear the video, and I’m pretty sure she’s watching my ride from the rodeo in Chapelwood. The women zone in on the screen, their eyes wide, and Brynn nudges my side with her elbow.

  “You’re a celebrity.”

  I shake my head, feeling uncomfortable from the attention. “It’s getting late. You should probably check in on Willow and call it a night. We have a long drive.”

  “Willow? You have a dog or something you failed to mention to us?” Shannon questions Brynn, and I frown.

  “Um, yeah,” Brynn answers, wiping her mouth and getting one more sip of her beer. “Something like that.”