Reckless (Mason Family #3) - Adriana Locke Page 0,7

idea,” he says in a rush from what can’t be more than two steps away. “You should listen to a question before you answer. Trust me. If not, you get roped into things like dates and events and favors. And work.”

I chuckle. “Work?”

We stop on the sidewalk leading to Libby’s door. He shoves his hands in his pockets and wears a sheepish grin.

“I didn’t mean work, work,” he says. “That made me sound super lazy, didn’t it?”

“Yes, sir. It did.”

“Great,” he says with a groan.

My cheeks ache from smiling. “Who am I to judge you? You want to be lazy? Fine. What’s it to me?”

“Exactly. You can’t break into my house and then start throwing around judgment. What kind of person would that make you?” He narrows his eyes. “It would make you a criminal judging me for not being passionate about spreadsheets.”

I gasp, making him laugh.

He leans against a pillar on Libby’s porch, one long leg crossed in front of the other. He chuckles to himself while his fingers fly over his phone screen. A shit-eating grin spreads across his cheeks.

As soon as his eyes lift to mine, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out and see a text from Libby.

Libby: YOU BROKE INTO BOONE MASON’S HOUSE? OMG JAXI.

My gaze snaps up to Boone’s.

“You told Libby?” I ask.

“Yeah.” He smiles. “I wanted to make sure she knew you made it.”

I roll my eyes. “I think you were trying to embarrass me.”

“I just told her the truth.”

“Which was …?”

“That we met.”

“I bet.”

A truck pulls up to the curb and honks twice. A big, burly man hops out of the truck. He makes his way to us.

“Heya, Boone,” he says in a thick accent I can’t quite place. “Heard ya need some help.”

“Thanks for coming, Leo,” Boone says. “I need a door opened. Can you help?”

Leo’s laughter is more cackle than anything. “Does a bear shit in the woods?”

Boone tries not to laugh as he looks at me. “I guess it does.”

“You’re damn right it does.” Leo takes a set of long, thin metal pieces with curved ends out of his pocket. “This is all on the up-and-up, right?”

“That’s what she tells me,” Boone teases, elbowing me in the side.

“Of course,” I say, firing Boone a warning glare that just entertains him more. “This is my cousin’s house. She forgot to give me the keys.”

Leo slurps what I think is tobacco spit out of the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, that’s what they all say.”

I’m not sure who they are, nor am I sure how Boone knows Leo. It doesn’t seem like a peas-and-carrots sort of situation. But after the day I’ve had, I’m too tired to really think it through.

A pop ricochets through the air and, with a twist of the knob, the door springs free. Scents of apples and cinnamon waft through the air.

“There ya go,” Leo booms. “Piece of cake.”

“Thank you,” I say, slightly befuddled about how quickly he was able to unlock the door. “That’s, uh, a handy little trick you have there.”

He slips one thumb through a strap on his bib overalls. “I could teach ya someday, if ya want.”

Boone laughs. “You better get back to Coy’s, or you’ll have lots of time on your hands quick.”

Leo laughs right along with him. “I ain’t scared of him. Besides, we’re done for the night. Only have another day or two out there, and the recording studio will be done.”

Recording studio? I look at Boone curiously, but he ignores me.

“Coy will be happy about that. He’s getting antsy to start on a new album,” Boone tells Leo. “And, to be honest, I’m tired of his agent up my ass all the time. I’ll be glad to get back to normal.”

Leo nods. “All right. If that’s all, I’m heading home to get some dinner. Wife made some pork chops and scalloped potatoes, and I’m a-starvin’.”

“Of course. Go home and eat. Thank you for coming by,” I say. “What do we owe you?”

Leo pats Boone on the shoulder. “Eh, I’ll add it on my invoice to Coy. He’ll never know the difference.”

“No. Wait. I—” I begin to protest, but Boone cuts me off.

“Charge him double. He can afford it,” Boone tells Leo, making him laugh. “I’ll see ya tomorrow, my man.”

“Later. And it was nice to meet ya, darlin’,” Leo says.

“You too,” I tell him, my voice drifting off in confusion.

I want to argue about the payment. I certainly don’t want to owe Boone’s brother—a man I

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