Page 47 of Something Reckless

EASTON

T he next morning, I’m singing to myself, gliding around the kitchen, happily cooking breakfast for my little… family . It’s the moment I didn’t realize I’d been waiting for my entire life.

Paying all of Alba’s bills was a gamble. I was half-ready for it to blow up in my face. But seeing the smile she wore all day long yesterday at the fair told me I made the right decision.

For once in my life.

Just as I’m pouring juice into three glasses, Alba comes in with Jagger. I grin when I hear him chattering about the new books he found in his room. It sounds like he woke up early and has been reading ever since.

“Good morning, you two,” I greet them with a smile. “How did you sleep?”

Alba’s face turns red as she mutters a response. “You know for a fact I didn’t sleep much.”

She’s wearing her same shirt and shorts from the fair yesterday, a little more crinkled but just as sexy. My stare skitters down her body as I smirk and mutter back, “And I can’t say that I’m sorry.” I discreetly poke her in the ribs as she ambles toward the fridge and she giggles.

“I slept so good!” Jagger says, scratching his head. “I don’t even remember going to bed!”

Setting the orange juice on the table, I ruffle his hair. “That’s because you have a big, strong dad to carry you to your room when you fall asleep in the car like a log.”

“I love having a big, strong dad!” my son shouts and my chest fills with pride.

We laugh and sit down to eat breakfast.

As we take our time enjoying the meal, Alba grills us with all sorts of trivia questions to help us prepare for the Father-Son challenge we have coming up.

“What color is the man’s hat in ‘Munchy’s Magical Banana Quest’?” Alba asks, before taking a bite of her pancake.

“Aw, Mimi. That’s too easy,” Jagger admonishes with a cute little eye roll.

“But does Easton know it?” she counters.

“Who do you take me for, woman? I remember that book!” But then it takes me an embarrassingly long time to get the right answer.

"Okay, I have a hard one next,” she says. “Who wrote the book 'The Wild Adventures of Rory the Red Cardinal'?"

Jagger nails it immediately while I fumble.

“Well, well, well. It’s pretty clear who’s going to be pulling the weight in this challenge.” Alba sneers at me.

I toss her an exaggerated side-eye, holding up a hand to Jagger for a high-five. "Nice job, buddy. Keep it up.” Then I give Alba my full attention. “Okay, Tiny Tiger. What’s next?”

Alba giggles. “All right, next up. In ‘Clara the Caterpillar Spreads Her Wings,' how long does it take for Clara to change from a chrysalis into a butterfly? ”

Jagger turns to me, frowning, obviously stumped for the first time.

We put our heads together, murmuring quietly and trying to recount the various stages of the damn caterpillar’s metamorphosis.

In the end, we mess it up completely and give the wrong answer.

But my little boy is determined to study harder, and I promise to take him to the library every day this week so we can prepare.

After breakfast, Alba asks if she can take a quick shower. I scoff at the ridiculous question, demanding that she make herself at home and telling her to help herself to anything in my T-shirt drawer.

When she’s gone, Jagger rounds the table and plops down in the chair beside me. “Hey, Dad?”

Out of nowhere, I’m reminded of the lingering paternity test results. My chest aches at the prospect of not getting to hear him call me that anymore. I hurriedly push the thought away.

“Hey, buddy. What’s up?”

“Can I ask you a question?” His big eyes look up at me.

“Of course. Always. I want you to know you can ask me anything. Okay, little man?”

“Okay.” Still he hesitates. “Well…I know that you’re my dad, and that Mimi’s my aunt. But I was wondering, why can’t we all live together? My friend, Danny, says that families are supposed to live in the same house. You, me and Mimi—we’re sort of like a family, right?”

“Oh.” Dang, this guy always has tough questions.

I try to approach it delicately. “Well, there’s all different types of families.

I didn’t even really know my dad. I grew up with just my mom and my brothers.

Anyway your aunt, Alba, and me? We’re just friends.

And we both love you very much, even though we don’t live together. ”

But even as I say it out loud, I know deep down, I don’t really feel that way. Lately, I’m starting to wish that Alba and me actually were together to be quite honest. But I’d never tell Jagger that. It would only confuse him.

“Well, sometimes I wish we all lived together, so I could see you both all the time.”

“That’s understandable,” I say, afraid that I’m going to say what’s really on my mind. Something like, me too .

He’s quiet for a while before he speaks again. “Dad?”

“Yeah, Buddy?”

“I’m sorry you don’t know your father.” He reaches over and pats me on the bicep. “I’m glad I know you, though.”

I pull him over into my arms, trying to speak over my tightening throat. I wrap my arms around him in a tight bear hug, kissing the top of his head. “Me too, son. Me too.”

Alba comes back from the shower and finds Jagger and me in a tight embrace. Her hands clasp over her chest and the most radiant smile unfolds across her face when our eyes meet. I like knowing I’m partially responsible for that swoony look of hers.

But I’m immediately distracted when I notice what she’s wearing. She’s barefoot with her wet red curls tied up in a high knot. The sexy denim short-shorts are back, showing off her pale, smooth thighs. But this time, she’s paired it with a hockey jersey.

My hockey jersey.

The red and white fabric of the oversized Sin Valley Saints uniform shirt drips from her narrow shoulders.

My team logo—a smirking angel wielding a hockey stick—stretches over her sweet tits.

Thank god I’m sitting because the sight of Alba Anderson in my team colors could knock me flat on my ass right now.

I clear the knot from my throat, turning my attention to my son. “Hey Buddy, how about you go play in your room while Mimi and I clean up the kitchen?”

Jagger looks at me, eyes twinkling. “I get to skip chores today?!”

“You get to skip chores today,” I confirm.

“Best weekend ever!” he shouts.

I chuckle, giving his shoulder a little tap. “Now, scoot! Before I change my mind.”

Giggling, the little boy hops up off my lap and darts toward the staircase.

When I turn my attention back to Alba, she’s still wearing that mischievous grin. She knows exactly what she’s doing to me.

“Turn around,” I command, my voice nothing but a growl.

A sassy little smile crosses her face and I expect her to make me beg. I totally would, by the way. But she spins around like a good girl and shows me my name, printed in bold red letters across her back, right above the number 33.

Damn. Wearing my shirt with my name on her back, this woman is prettier than any so-called ‘supermodel’ I’ve ever seen.

I rise from my seat, my feet quickly eating up the space between us. “What exactly are you trying to accomplish, walking around here looking so damn good in my jersey?”

She tries to act innocent. “What? You told me to take a shirt from your dresser.”

My hands grip her hips, boldly smoothing up under the hem of the jersey to touch her soft skin. “Yeah, but I didn’t tell you to take the air straight from my lungs.”

I lean in by her collarbone and, damn, she smells like me. She used my body wash.

It’s confirmed—Alba Anderson is trying to kill me .

She locks her arms tightly around my neck and sighs contentedly as I breathe her in. My palms roam up and down her back, and her fingers lose themselves in my hair. We get lost in the moment, just touching each other, enjoying each other.

Then there’s a soft thud from upstairs. Alba jumps in my arms, her eyes flying toward the staircase at the reminder that Jagger could pop around the corner at any moment.

Shit. We have to be more careful than this.

She wiggles out of my hold, putting space between us and bringing the conversation back to the father-son reading challenge.

“You have a lot of reading up to do, Mr. Tower,” she jokes awkwardly as she shuffles away and starts clearing off plates.

“No shit,” I mumble, taking the dirty dishes to the sink.

“I can’t make Jagger look bad. The pressure is on. ”

She laughs, following after me. “I’m only kidding. Just getting to participate with you means so much to him.”

I give my head a shake. “Psht. Nah. None of that participation trophy shit. Me and Jag are going to kick ass in that competition. Those library kids won’t know what hit ‘em.”

Alba is snorting with laughter now. I know I sound like a bit of a psycho right now but you don’t survive in a professional hockey league for nine years without having a competitive spirit. And on top of that, I want to make Jagger proud. It’s part of making up for all the years I lost with him.

Bonus points if I get to impress Alba, too.

I lean against the counter where she’s standing, gently brushing a loose red curl away from her eyes. “I’m ready for the challenge. I feel like I’ve got to make up for the lack of reading I did back in school. That’s what I get for goofing off back then.”

“Well, just so you know, Jagger and I really appreciate you doing this.” Her green eyes glimmer at me from behind her glasses, and I just want to do everything in my power to make sure she’s happy like this all the time.

Hesitating for only a second, I put my hands on her hips, drawing her closer to me. Her body feels so good against mine. Especially when she positions herself between my spread thighs and presses her chest against my torso.

“And what about you?” I ask her. “What are your plans for retaking your realtor exam?”

Alba instantly frowns, her brows lowering and her eyes darkening. “I’m not taking the exam again.”

“What?” I question, not immediately believing my ears.

“I’m not taking it again,” she repeats. “I’ve taken it twice. I’ve failed both times. Maybe it’s not meant to be.”

“Not meant to be?” I scoff. “Alba, this so-called failure isn’t set in stone. It doesn’t become final until you decide you’re never trying again.”

She turns her face away from me. “God. It’s just too hard, Easton.”

“That’s what she said…” I mumble. I rub my woody against her, trying to lighten the mood.

Huffing, Alba slaps at my chest.

“Sorry, sorry,” I say, tightening my grip around her to keep her from wiggling away from me. “Come on. What would you say to Jagger if he wanted to give up on himself? If he wanted to let a minor setback convince him to give up on his dreams?”

She shakes her head. “That’s different. Jagger’s a kid. He has his whole life ahead of him.”

“Well, what about me? What if after my first season of playing hockey, I’d decided to just quit because my team didn’t win a championship cup? What if I’d quit after the second season or the third? Hell—do you know how easy it would have been to quit after I injured my foot?”

“You don’t get it,” Alba insists. “I have all these responsibilities. All this shit stacked on my shoulders while I’m trying to juggle a million different commitments.”

I’m not buying her bullshit. “Sorry to be harsh, but all I hear is excuses, Alba. You’ve wanted this real estate thing since we were teenagers. You can’t give up now.”

Tears shine in her eyes before her gaze drops away from mine. “Don’t do this, Easton…”

Hooking a knuckle under her jaw, I lift her face and force her to meet my gaze.

“I’m not letting you give up on yourself, Alba.

I will help you in anyway I can. I’ll take Jagger off your hands whenever you need time for yourself.

I’ll help you with money so you don’t have to be distracted by work and worrying about making ends meet.

Hell—where are your textbooks?” I hold a palm out. “Hand them over. I’ll help you study.”

She holds her attention on me, her green eyes guarded and distrusting. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m dead serious,” I say, my tone stone-cold. “I’m here. I’m in your corner. I’ll do anything to help you succeed.”

Tears well up and begin to spill down her face. “Thank you, Easton.”

“Why are you crying?” I tug her back against my chest. Right where she fucking belongs.

“It just hit me how much I’ve needed to have somebody believe in me.” Her arms tighten around me, squeezing me in a death grip of a hug.

I feel tall and strong and important. I thought that being a hockey star is what made me valuable in this world. But taking care of Alba and Jagger is the only thing that has ever made me feel this fulfilled . I’m growing addicted to this feeling.

“I’m here…” I repeat softly, kissing the top of her head. “I’m here…I’m here…I’m here…I’ve got you, sweet girl. I’ve got you.”

Alba looks up at me, her eyes dazed and awestruck.

“I promised I’d never take your power away from you, and that’s a promise I intend to keep.” I stroke her cheek. “But I will encourage you to follow your dreams, all while doing each and every thing I can to spoil you rotten. Is that okay?”

She holds my gaze for a long moment, as her brain weighs whether she can trust me. Eventually, she sighs in my hold, her head bobbing slowly. “After all the shitty things I’ve been through, the only reason I keep believing in humanity is because guys like you exist.”

Guys like me.

That’s the thing—I don’t want her thinking about any other guys. I only want her thinking about me.

I want her to be mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.

It’s time I make that happen.

“I have feelings for you, Alba.” My throat is closing up and I’m struggling not to choke on my own words. “I know you’re going to tell me I shouldn’t, but I can’t help myself.”

Utter terror floods her eyes. “Stop it,” she murmurs.

I lower my face to hers. “Stop what? I’m not doing anything. We’re just talking. But then again, that’s the problem, isn’t it?” I run my knuckles down her cheek. “We’re talking, when I’d rather be touching you. I’d rather be kissing you,” I whisper by her ear.

Alba is already breathing hard and her knees are weakening beneath her. I can tell by the way her body sags against me. “Oh, god. ”

“I’d rather be down on my knees with my head between your legs tasting you and teasing you and worshipping you.”

Her breath hitches in her chest. Victory. Sweet, sweet victory.

Without wasting another second, I pick her up and toss her over my shoulder, quietly running down the hallway on my tiptoes. All I can think about is making her come on my fingers and my tongue.

Alba struggles against her giggles as I barge inside my bedroom, locking the door behind me. I’m going to have to be quick, but I’m up to the challenge.

I toss her on the bed and I’m already pulling my shirt over my head. “Do us both a favor, Alba, and take off your panties.”