Reckless (The Mason Family Series Book 3)

by Adriana Locke

  Me too.

  “Jaxi?” he prompts.

  “Yes,” I say, nodding. “Six months works. But you have to accept rent.”

  His shoulders fall, and he turns around and walks into the kitchen. I, of course, follow.

  “I’m not taking no for an answer,” I tell him.

  “Are you hungry?”

  “Boone.”

  He stops at the island and plants his palms on the marble. “I don’t want your money.”

  “I want you to have it.”

  He rolls his tongue around his cheek. Finally, he sighs.

  “I’m going to say this, and it’s going to sound like a dickhead thing to say, but I don’t know how else to put it. I don’t need your money. I have a lot of it. More than I’ll ever use.” He forces a swallow. “And I’m not saying that because I’m special or proud of it even. It was given to me by my family. I didn’t even work for it, okay? But I have it, and I can use it to help you, and that’s what I want to do.”

  A hesitancy drifts across his features, and I can tell he’s not sure how I’ll take that. I’m not sure either, to be honest.

  I take him in while I search for a solution to the problem. I need to stay here for the time being. He seems to want that. But I can’t just stay here with nothing in return. Life doesn’t work that way.

  “Janey is on vacation or something, right?” I ask.

  He nods.

  “I’ll do her work while I stay here—”

  “No.”

  “Boone,” I warn.

  He furrows his brow. “Where does this come from? Why can’t you just stay here and use this as a way to spend time with Rosie and just … I don’t know. I know it’s not Hawaii but fuck, Jaxi.”

  My heart tugs in my chest. I don’t want to hurt his feelings, but he doesn’t understand.

  “Where is this coming from?” he asks again. “If we’re going to do this, we have to be honest with each other, right?”

  I take a deep breath. “In the world that I come from, nothing is free. There will come a time—and I promise you that—when you’ll feel like I’ve taken advantage of you somehow, and things will go downhill. Fast.”

  He smirks. “I know we’re being serious and all, but if you’d like to take advantage of me, I won’t be mad.”

  I roll my eyes for his sake. Inside, I squirm at the innuendo I’m fairly certain—and that I hope—he’s making.

  “You’re not listening to me,” I tell him. “I don’t have a job. I don’t have a car. I don’t even have a fucking plan now, Boone, and I have a kid. That’s a problem. A big, huge problem that I have to fix and I can’t complicate anything else in my life because I’m complicated out!”

  I heave a breath.

  He, however, seems unfazed.

  “I am listening to you. I just disagree. But you need to hear me out too. Because of the fact that I hear you, I’m trying to help. I want to help. I’m offering this to you, and from my position, it’s the only answer to your problem right now.” He comes around the island. “If things get unbearable, I’ll tell you. Okay? Does that make you happier?”

  I try to ignore the pull of my body to his.

  “No,” I say. “Because there’s also the component of my pride, and I don’t want to be the girl who’s living with a guy because she needs to.”

  “What are you afraid of? That I’ll hold it over your head?”

  “Yes,” I say too quickly. “And then make me feel bad about it.”

  The look on his face makes me regret saying that.

  “Thanks for having faith in me,” he says.

  “Look, I’m sorry. I just have had a lot of bad experiences with people, and I know I shouldn’t project that onto you. I’m just trying to take care of things as best as I can.”

  The door opens down the hall. Little footsteps clamor against the tile.

  “Boone? Jaxi?” Rosie shouts, panicked.

  “We’re in the kitchen, Rosie. Keep walking straight,” I shout back.

  I peek around the corner. Her eyes light up when she sees me.

  “I thought you left me,” she says.

  “Nope. We’re right here, sweetheart.”

  Her steps pick up their pace.

  When I turn back to Boone, his position hasn’t changed. Nor has his focus.

  “Fine,” he says. “You want to vacuum and do some dishes? Cool. Go for it.”

  I blow out a breath. “Thank you. Was that so hard?”

  He grins.

  Before I can ask him what it’s all about, we’re joined by Rosie. She pushes us away from each other and stands in the middle. Then, she looks up at Boone.

  “I’m hungry,” she says, tilting her head back to look up at him. Boone winks at me before grabbing Rosie up and tucking her under his arm. Rosie shrieks as Boone carries her into the living room.

  “Come on, then,” Boone says.

  “Where are you going?” I ask, laughing.

  “I’m going to get dinner.”

  I walk to the corner and see him sitting on the couch with Rosie next to him. She looks up at him adoringly.

  “You’re getting dinner from the couch?” I cross my arms over my chest. “This should be interesting.”

  “Live and learn, babe.” Boone whips his phone out of his pocket and puts an arm along the back of the couch. “Okay, Rosie Girl. Let’s pick out our dinner.”

  “I want cake!”

  He looks at me and grins. It’s a different smile than he’s given me before. This one is more intimate, more personal. Definitely the most dangerous look he’s ever given me.

  And then, as quickly as he tossed that libido-burner onto my lap, he plucks it away.

  “We are having cake. Are you kidding me?” He points at the phone. “Should we order this one? Or that one. Oh, that one has—”

  “Sprinkles!” Rosie shouts. “That one! I want that one?”

  “Yup. I was thinking that too.”

  I watch the two of them act like two children with a DoorDash account. It’s hilarious and sweet.

  It’s also freaking sexy.

  I have to keep my head on straight. This isn’t a budding romance. It’s a friendship that you’ll never be able to repay, and you better remember that before you screw this all the way up.

  “Jaxi?”

  I flinch at Boone’s voice. When I look up, I find them watching me.

  “Do you like sprinkles?” Rosie asks, her little voice trailing into a yawn.

  She rests her head on Boone’s side and looks at me with the sleepiest eyes. My heart squeezes as I imagine what this little girl has been through today, and she’s worried about me wanting sprinkles.

  “I love them,” I say.

  She nods, blinking her eyes in a futile attempt to stay awake. She’s asleep in five seconds.

  Boone stills. “Now what?”

  I laugh softly. “Let’s lay her down somewhere. The couch is fine.”

  He stands and picks her up like she weighs the same as a feather. Her tiny legs dangle over his strong arms.

  “Where are you going?” I ask as he walks by me.

  “Let’s put her in my bed.”

  “Is that safe?” I ask, curling my nose.

  He looks at me over his shoulder. “That’s not nice.”

  “Well, it might not be, but it’s warranted.” I follow him into the room I crawled into a few days ago. “You weren’t even surprised that a woman was in here. That doesn’t bode well for your sheets.”

  With the gentlest movement, he lays Rosie in the middle of his enormous bed. She curls up on her side and doesn’t move again.

  I walk to the corner where Rosie’s boxes are and grab her Glo Worm. Something tells me she’ll need this tonight.

  Boone then covers her with a blanket from the chair by the door.

  She looks like an angel curled up on his black pillows, her light-colored hair in stark contrast.

  “I didn’t put her on the sheets,” he points
out.

  I make a face as if I’m grossed out and slip by him and into the hallway. He chuckles as he follows me.

  “For the record,” he says as he closes the bedroom door behind him, “the sheets are fresh and clean. I changed them this morning.”

  I pause in the foyer.

  He stops in front of me and grins like the cat that ate the canary.

  “What?” I ask, trying not to laugh.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me why?”

  “No.”

  He pouts. “Come on.”

  I shake my head.

  “I was hoping that I’d have you in my bed tonight,” he says, touching me on the nose with the tip of his finger. “And it looks like I was right. It’ll just be you and Rosie and not me. Funny how shit works.”

  He leaves me with a wink and takes off toward the kitchen.

  I don’t know what to say to that. I don’t know if he’s joking about the sheets, or me, or any of it—or all of it. I just know that today has been the weirdest of days.

  But it could be worse.

  It has been worse.

  And I’ll never go back to that place.

  No matter what.

  And I’ll make sure Rosie never knows that place exists, either. That little girl is the purest form of light, and I will do everything that I can to make sure she stays that way.

  For Nettie.

  For me.

  Thirteen

  Boone

  Oof.

  I sit up slowly. My muscles scream as I move them, protesting the fact that I slept on the couch last night. I’ve never been a couch sleeper. My mother was a stickler about sleeping in our beds when I was a child, and it’s something I’ve always done. The only time I sleep on the sofa is if I’m extremely hungover.

  And if I have a woman and a child in my bed, apparently.

  If the spare room with a bed wasn’t covered in things I should’ve thrown away months ago, I could’ve slept there.

  I groan.

  The night was long and quiet. Jaxi retreated into herself after Rosie went to sleep, sitting at the kitchen table with a notepad and pen. We all three had dinner together and turned on a movie about a mermaid, but Rosie fell asleep again, and Jaxi laid down with her.

  I haven’t seen either one of them since.

  The sun barely peeks over the horizon as I get my bearings. I stretch my arms overhead and slowly get to my feet. My body is heavy but so is my head.

  Sleep was hard to find last night. I just kept thinking about so many things over and over again. Jaxi’s shock at the fact that her sister died. The trepidation in Rosie’s face as she realized she was going home with us. The feeling of her little hand on mine as she began to warm up to us.

  And the fact that I’m thinking about this whole situation, our trio, as us.

  I run my hands down my face and groan.

  What have I gotten myself into?

  I’m not prepared for this whole thing. I’m Boone Mason, the proverbial bachelor. I thrive on low expectations and no responsibility.

  I can’t even pay my security bill, which led to this whole damn thing.

  Still, I’m not mad about it. I didn’t go to bed or wake up this morning feeling like I fucked all the way up. If I had, I wouldn’t be so worried about this. It would feel normal. Not feeling that way only makes me more concerned for my well-being.

  I just can’t the picture of Rosie’s little face looking at me from the door of a police station. It was so wrong, so heartbreaking. No child should ever have to go through that.

  “You are fucked. You are so fucked,” I sing softly as I walk into the kitchen. “Only you’re not fucked because fucking brings clarity, and you can’t think clearly.”

  I whistle a beat that the words could go to like I know something about music and pop a pod into the coffee maker. I hit the brew button and start toward the fridge for some cream.

  My attention is grabbed by a yellow legal pad sticking out from under a magazine on the table. Unable to contain my curiosity like a grown man should, I peer at the words written in neat handwriting.

  To-Do:

  Pediatrician / therapy?

  Groceries

  Job

  Car ($5K max!)

  Daycare?

  Bed, clothes, toys (?)

  Housing (where?)

  Me clothes.

  What about healthcare?

  I lift the notepad and read through the list again. My heart crumbles.

  This is what she’s worried about? Shit.

  I’ve never once worried about any of that stuff. Even after spending the day with Rosie yesterday, most of that didn’t occur to me either. Sure, I knew we needed groceries because eating out with a child probably isn’t the healthiest, and I knew we would have to get Rosie some things to help her get situated.

  But healthcare? A doctor? A car?

  I drop the notepad to the table. I never thought about the fact that Jaxi doesn’t have a car. I didn’t even know that Rosie needed a car seat until Sergeant Bordeaux showed me how to set it up in my car. Thank God Kurt thought to send it with Rosie and Nettie’s things.

  My life spins around me, taunting me with how little I know. How much of life I don’t take seriously.

  Ignoring the click of the Keurig, I march back to the couch and retrieve my phone. I find the number and press call.

  “Boone? What’s wrong, honey? It’s so early.”

  “Mom?”

  She laughs sleepily. “What other woman is answering your mother’s phone? Do I need to have a talk with your father?”

  “Good point.”

  Dad mumbles in the distance.

  “Oh, be quiet, Rodney,” she says. “I’m getting up. Hang on, Boone.”

  I pace back and forth until the coffee aroma drags me to the kitchen. I get my mug and add some creamer before Mom comes back on the line.

  “Okay. I can talk now,” she says. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. I think so.” I take a sip for sustenance. “I met a girl.”

  “Okay …”

  “Not like that. Well, I don’t think like that.” I reconsider. “No, I didn’t meet a girl like that, but I might like her—I do like her. She’s great. But that’s not what this is about. I can handle that shit.”

  “It’s a little early for cursing in a conversation with your mother and on a Sunday morning, no less. But continue.”

  I roll my eyes. “She sold all her shit—stuff to move to Hawaii for a job and was staying at Libby’s next door. But Ted was fucking—sleeping with someone, so Libby left him. Anyway,” I say, trying to get to the point, “she has nowhere to stay and just found out her sister died and that she left behind a little girl named Rosie.”

  I pause to take a breath. The line grows quiet.

  “Mom?”

  “I’m just waiting on you to finish,” she says.

  “I’m finished. I just … This isn’t my wheelhouse, Mom. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know if I did the right thing. Jaxi needs actual adult help, and I don’t know that I can give her that.”

  Mom laughs.

  “This isn’t funny,” I tell her. “You know what? Oliver is right. I’m impulsive. I’m the king of it. But what was I supposed to do? Send them to the streets?”

  “No, honey. You were supposed to do whatever you did, which I assume by the slight panic in your voice is that you let them stay with you.”

  “You would assume correctly.”

  She laughs softly. “So what is the level of your relationship with the woman? Are you seeing her? Acquaintances? Friends?”

  “I’d like to be fucking her if—”

  “Boone Michael Mason, this is your last warning.”

  I grin. “Sorry. I’d like to be procreating with her except not actually making children if there wasn’t already a child in my bed as we speak.” I raise my mug to my lips. “Better?”

  “Oh, Boone.” She sighs. “Okay. So y
ou like the woman. What’s her name?”

  “Jaxi.”

  “Cute. So we have Jaxi and Rosie?”

  “Yes, Mom,” I say, getting impatient.

  “And for what am I being summoned?”

  It’s my turn to sigh. “I don’t know. This isn’t something I do. This is something Oliver does.”

  “Actually, you’re wrong. Oliver wouldn’t do this. He’d pay for them to go to a hotel, but he wouldn’t let them stay in his house. This is absolutely a you thing to do.”

  “Nope.”

  She laughs. “Well, you did it, so I’m taking that as a point in my favor.”

  I shrug. “So, I guess I’m not coming to dinner today because we’re going to need to get a bed and some things for Rosie,” I say, glancing at the table. “We need groceries and, like, toys, I guess. She might need a watch.”

  “How old is she?”

  “Rosie is four.”

  Mom laughs again, louder this time. “She doesn’t need a watch, Boone. She needs a doll.”

  “She likes my watch,” I say, watching the light reflect off the face of mine in the sunlight.

  Mom’s coffee maker kicks on in the background. I lean against the counter and take another drink.

  She’s right. Rosie doesn’t need a watch. That was a dumb idea. But I still want to get her one, which is even dumber. I can imagine her wearing a little rose gold band on her wrist and stopping every few feet to look at the face.

  The thought makes me smile.

  “Would you and Jaxi be upset if I came over to help you today?” she asks.

  “It’s Sunday dinner day.”

  “Maybe we could have it at your house. We could all bring something over and help your guests get settled in. I know Blaire and Bellamy would love to help. Oliver and Wade will come to eat, and we can get them to help us put things together. It would be fun.”

  I take another sip. “I do love watching them have to do what you say.”

  She blows out an amused breath. “You know that acts of service is my love language. It would thrill me to death to get to shop for a little girl—especially since my sons refuse to give me grandkids.”

  “Coy knocked up Bells. You’re getting one.”

  “And that will be the only one if the rest of you don’t get on board.”