Read Online Reckless Hearts by Melody Grace - Free Book Online Page A

shower
and that delicious jaw-line cleanly-shaven for the first time in a
week. His eyes crinkle with a smile when he sees me, and my heart
lets out an answering thump. Damn, the man’s a walking
temptation—and I’m a girl with zero self-control.
    Except
tonight, I remind myself firmly, holding the door wider. “Hey,”
I greet him, “you’re right on time.”
    “Always,”
Will smiles, then pulls one hand from behind his back, and presents
me with a small bouquet of flowers: roses and hydrangeas tied up with
brown string. “For you.”
    I
pause, shocked. I don’t think a guy has ever bought me flowers
before, but Will must mistake my surprise for something else, because
he adds, “They’re not fancy or anything, I know, but the
yard at my place is overflowing, so I figured . . .”
    Wait,
he picked them himself?
    I
feel a little light-headed as I take the flowers and beckon him in.
“Thank you, they’re beautiful,” I say. “I’ll,
umm, find a vase. I won’t be a second.”
    I
quickly hurry down the hall to the kitchen, my cheeks feeling
strangely hot. I grab a vase and fill it with cool water. The flowers
really are beautiful, the roses wild and perfumed with a sweet,
floral scent that wraps around my senses. I set them on the
countertop, and pause a moment, trying to pull myself together.
    The
guy ran a comb through his hair and picked a couple of flowers,
there’s no need to get your panties in a twist.
    But
it’s not my panties I’m worried about. It’s the
quicksilver beat of my heart, and the flutters of nervous
anticipation in my stomach that spell danger tonight. I sneak a look
down the hallway. Will is waiting casually in my living room,
checking out my bookshelves, and all the framed photos I have perched
on the mantel. He glances up and smiles. I duck back, my heart racing
now.
    This
is a date.
    A date date. Not a late-night hook-up, or casual get-together, or meeting a
guy in a bar and then winding up at his place after four drinks and a
shadowed make-out session. Will showed up on time, and is wearing a
shirt, and will probably walk me back to my door when he drops me off
later. It should be no big deal; I’ve been clear with him that
I’m not interested in anything real, so why am I freaking out?
    You’ve
got this .
    I
grab a jacket and my purse, then meet him back by the door. “I
don’t know if you planned anything,” I say, “but I
thought we could go to this seafood place I know. It’s a great
spot, right on the water.”
    “Sounds
perfect.” Will holds the door for me.
    “Great!”
I exclaim, then immediately feel like an idiot. Anyone would think
I’ve never been on a date before. I have, tons.
    But
not with a man like this.
    That’s
the problem, I realize, following Will to his truck. Why he’s
got me off-balance, when I’m so used to calling all the shots.
He’s a grown man, not some guy sending non-committal texts at
two a.m., or taking time out of his busy schedule of beer and video
games. Those guys I can run rings around, but Will is something
different. He’s so sure and confident in everything he does,
and that certainty is intoxicating, sexy as hell. And that’s
even before he opens the passenger door of his ancient truck to
chivalrously help me inside.
    He
circles around and climbs in too. I give him directions, and we hit
the road, driving out through town and onto the coastal road. I keep
my gaze fixed on the scenery outside the windows, trying to ignore
just how good he looks in the driver’s seat, one arm resting
out the open window, the sinking sun tinting his tanned skin gold
against the ocean light.
    “Are
you OK?” Will asks after a few moments of silence.
    “Sure!”
I blurt. “Yup. Why?”
    “Just . . . you
don’t seem like yourself.”
    I
swallow. I’m not—but Will shouldn’t know that yet.
He barely knows me at all. “I just don’t want you getting
the wrong idea about tonight,” I answer instead.
    “You’ve
said that.”