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

Will sounds amused. “A few times.”
    “And
you don’t seem to be listening,” I shoot back.
    The
truck comes to a stop. I look over, surprised, but we’re at a
set of red lights. Will turns to me, catching my eye with a direct,
open stare.
    “I
think you’re amazing.”
    What?
    “You’re
beautiful, smart, sweet, and sexy as hell,” Will continues,
sounding so matter-of-fact, I can’t believe it. “I want
to get to know you better, that’s all. No pressure, no
expectations. You said yes to dinner, so here I am. Is that a
problem?”
    “Um,
no . . .” I stammer, my head still spinning from
his simple honesty. “But, sweet ?
Have you met me?”
    He
chuckles. “We’ll agree to disagree. And if it makes you
feel any better,” he adds casually, “I promise not to
make out with you tonight. OK?”
    Not
OK. Telling me
something is off-limits is like waving a red flag. Right away, I’m
seized with the sudden impulse to clamber over the gearstick and kiss
him until I forget my own name, but I manage to murmur a garbled,
“Uhuh.”
    The
lights turn green. Will puts the truck in drive, and settles back in
his seat again, totally at ease, but I don’t know what the hell
to think now.
    Who
is this man, where did he come from?
    And
how do I stop myself falling hook, line, and sinker for his charms?
     
    Will
follows my directions up the coast about twenty minutes, until we
pull into the gravel lot outside Pete’s Seafood. “Here we
are,” I announce brightly. Will looks surprised.
    “This
place?” he asks dubiously.
    “They
have the best fried clams around,” I promise, hopping down from
the truck. OK, so it’s basically a glorified beach food stand
with a few wooden benches attached to the local mini-golf course, but
what was I supposed to do: take him to a romantic restaurant, or,
worse still, a dark sexy dive bar, full of hidden corners for getting
into trouble? Nope, much safer to be out in broad daylight with the
crisp ocean breeze and a group of rowdy kids racing around, blasting
each other with water guns.
    If
Will is put out, he doesn’t show it. “Alright then,”
he says, flashing me an easygoing smile. “As long as we get to
take a spin on the course after. I’ve got a mean golf
handicap—especially when there’s a windmill in the way.”
    “Deal.”
I relax, despite myself. I wasn’t lying, Pete’s does have
amazing seafood, and as we grab a table overlooking the water, my
mouth waters at the piles of fresh-fried fish and shrimp boil other
people are carrying back to their tables.
    “What’s
good here?” Will asks, hungrily eyeing the spread at the next
table.
    “Everything,”
I reply, and he laughs.
    “Sign
me up.”
    The
teenage waitress stops by, looking flustered. “You need menus,
or . . . ?” she asks hopefully.
    “We’re
ready. Two full plates with fries and slaw,” I tell her,
looking to Will for confirmation. He nods.
    “And
a couple of beers, too.”
    She
barely nods before, racing off again. “I used to work here,”
I tell Will, wincing at the memory. “Summer shifts, back when I
was in high school.”
    “Oh
yeah?” Will grins. “I’m trying to picture you in
that uniform.”
    I
look over at the waitress’s navy shorts and plain white
T-shirt. “I wish. Back in my day, we had these little striped
hats. They were the worst, could never get the smell of grease out.
But they still weren’t as bad as the uniform at the donut stand
in town. Or the boat tours. That guy wanted us all dressed up in
pirate gear.”
    Will
laughs. “You got around, huh?”
    I
nod. “I pretty much held every part-time job in a twenty-mile
radius.”
    “And
now you’re building a real estate empire,” he says, as
the waitress brings our food in record time.
    “Pretty
much.” I grin, grabbing a fry and dunking it in the paper cup
of ketchup. “But I love what I do.”
    “Why?”
Will asks.
    “Well, the commissions are
pretty great,” I joke, “but . . . it’s
not