Reckless (The Mason Family Series Book 3) by Adriana Locke (online e reader .txt) 📗

Holt stands and joins Wade at the door. “I need to get to my office. That Greyshell report should be in this morning from legal. See ya later.”

Wade waves as they move out of sight.

Oliver waves too. “I’ll be in my office, Anjelica. See ya, Boone.”

“Later,” I call after him.

“So,” Anjelica says, gripping the back of a chair, “tell me all the things.”

I lift my cup of coffee and take a long, steady drink. Anjelica notices my delay tactic and gives me a look. She slowly walks around the chair and sits in it, crossing one leg over the other.

“Don’t get comfortable,” I tell her.

She laughs. “Jaxi. Spill it.”

I don’t know what to spill. Nothing I can say quickly and succinctly can sum her up the right way.

“Does she work? Go to school? What?” Anjelica asks.

“She’s in-between jobs right now. She was going to work as a nanny but that kind of fell apart when she got custody of Rosie.”

Anjelica nods. “Coy told me about that. She seems really nice.”

“She is.”

“Is she staying with you indefinitely? Or finding a place of her own?” Anjelica asks. “I have some contacts in residential real estate on that level. I know you guys do a lot of it commercially, but a friend of mine sells and rents out apartments and houses—stuff like that. He’s been a realtor around here for thirty years. Knows everything. He actually hooked me up with the place I’m staying in now.”

A whisper of an idea floats through my mind.

Even if things don’t work out between me and Jaxi, if she had something to build on, that would be great. And now that I’m acting like a grown-up, maybe it’s time I invest some of my own money too.

“You know,” I say, thinking it through. “Jaxi said she was interested in being a realtor and housing and things like that. Maybe she could reach out to your friend if she had questions about getting started.”

Anjelica nods. “I’m sure he would. He’s the nicest guy on the face of the planet.”

“Except for me, you mean.”

She grins. “Very funny.”

“Maybe I could talk to him too. I’ve been thinking about getting into some property on my own.”

“It’s a great buyer’s market. I’ll give him your number.”

“Great. Thank you. I appreciate it.”

She stands on her insanely tall heels and winks. “See? We can get along.”

“I’m still scared of you.”

She laughs all the way out the door.

I sit back in my seat and swirl my mug. The coffee goes around and around, creating a little tunnel in the middle. It happens so fast. It goes from a placid environment to a dynamic one with the flick of a wrist.

I watch the coffee and let my mind drift.

If it was just Jaxi and me, I know this thing between us would’ve already exploded wide open. Jaxi’s putting up a front because it’s the responsible thing to do with Rosie in the picture. I’m staying back because it’s the right thing to do too. But my brothers aren’t wrong. I truly like my house feeling like more than a place that I crash. Sitting down at a table in the evening and having a conversation. Having another person as a teammate. Having someone look at me like I’m not just handsome but also respectable.

Having Jaxi think I’m worthy of being in her and Rosie’s life.

But aren’t we keeping our distance romantically because of that little girl who deserves the chance to live in the environment I think—I know—that Jaxi and I could create together? Isn’t that counterproductive?

What’s the worst thing that could happen? It not work out?

I take a drink.

I’d still be there for her. She’s a great person. And I adore that little girl.

The longer I think about it, the more I’m convinced that I’m right. Who am I to deny fate?

Who am I to … not be me?

Fuck it.

I grab my phone and make some calls.

Sixteen

Jaxi

“That’s beautiful, Rosie,” I say as I hold up her latest and greatest fingerpaint masterpiece.

She squishes up her nose. The joy in her face makes my day.

“Do you know what it is?” she asks.

“Why don’t you tell me,” I suggest.

“Okay. That’s our house,” she says, pointing at a yellow blob streaked with brown in the middle of the paper. “And that’s me, and that’s Mommy, and that’s you, and that’s Wade.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Wade? Okay. Awesome.”

She shakes with excitement. “And that’s the guy who looks like Boone. And that’s my puppy. And that’s Boone!”

Her grin takes up her entire face.

Sunlight streams in the windows, filling the kitchen with a cheeriness and a warmth that settle into my soul. Mindless chatter plays on the television in the corner, and it’s the kind of ambience I always hoped to have in a home.

“Boone’s kind of tall, don’t you think?” I ask, looking at the purple line she pointed at that extends from the top of the page to the bottom.

“Yup. Because he’s tall and strong. Like this.” She flexes muscles that she doesn’t have. “Grrr …”

“Oh, boy,” I say, stepping back. “Those are some big muscles.”

She drops her arms. “I know.”

“I know it’s a good thing this is washable because you’re a mess,” I tell her, poking at a glob of green paint in her bangs.

“I’m a mess, I’m a mess, I’m a mess,” she sings, bouncing around her chair. “Can I do another one?”

I grab another piece of printer paper and set it in front of her. And, because I’m a quick learner, I attach two pieces of tape to it and secure the paper to the table.

“Knock yourself out, kiddo,” I say.

 I head to the sink and rinse my hands. She sings what I suspect is a cartoon theme song as I pluck a couple of sections of paper towels off the roll. My phone rings on the counter, and I see Libby’s name on the screen.

I press the green button. “Hello?”

“Hey, you.”

Her voice is thick with exhaustion and sounds like she’s been crying.