Reckless (Mason Family #3) - Adriana Locke Page 0,40

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