Reckless by Winter Renshaw Read Free Book Online Page B

babies.”
    “Right. They’re kids. And they’re boys. And they need to be supervised.” I release an audible groan, turning back to my baby. “This never would’ve happened at my house.”
    “Here we go,” Nathan mutters.
    “Where’s Beck,” I ask, though I already know the answer.
    “At home, with Lauren,” he says.
    “Is he in bed?” I check the clock on the wall. It’s almost nine-thirty. “He should be in bed.”
    “I. Don’t. Know.” Nathan doesn’t hide the irritation in his tone.
    “These boys need structure and supervision and rules,” I say, teeth gritted. This is the Mama Bear in me rearing her unapologetic self. Once she comes out, it’s damn near impossible to put her back in her cage.
    “Mom.” Dash gives me a pained look, and I snap out of it. But only for him. I hate seeing him hurt and knowing it could’ve been prevented.
    “I’m sorry, baby.” I rub the top of his soft hand, leaning in and giving him a kiss on the forehead. “How are you feeling?”
    “It hurts,” he says. “But the ice helps.”
    “Have they done x-rays yet?” I ask him.
    “No,” Nathan answers. “They’re coming to get him soon.”
    “Mom?” Dash asks, brows raised.
    “Yes?”
    “Are you . . . are you wearing my cleats?” he asks, mouth twisted as he stifles a grin. It’s good to see him smile. It soothes my Mama Bear heart.
    Glancing down, my shoulders slump and I laugh through my nose. “Yeah. Yeah, I am, Dash. Is that okay?”
    “Alrighty, we’re ready for you, Dashiell,” a nurse announces from the doorway. She pads into the room and brushes the white privacy curtain aside. “Let’s go take a look at that ankle, shall we?”
    “I’ll be right here when you get back,” I say, kissing the tips of my fingers and waving as he’s rolled away.
    Nathan gives Dash a nod and then retrieves his phone from his pocket. I’m sure he’s about to text Lauren and give her an update, like Lauren somehow gives a flying shit about Dash’s ankle.
    Flinging my bag over my shoulder, I head to the hallway in search of a vending machine. Dash loves Snickers bars, and if I can find one for him, it might put a smile on his face when he gets back.
    Granted, I probably shouldn’t be rewarding him for doing a bone-headed thing, but I feel like a broken or fractured ankle is punishment enough. And I still blame Nathan. He should’ve been watching the boys, not giving them free rein of his ridiculously oversized McMansion.
    Clomping down the tile hall in my cleats, I spot a slew of vending machines at the end. Fishing in my purse as I walk, I retrieve a dollar and some change and begin my search for a Snickers bar the second I approach a snack machine.
    “D7,” I mutter to myself, inserting the money and pressing the buttons. The bar releases and drops with ease, and I swipe down to grab it, feeling like Mother of the Year for all of two seconds. A pair of shiny black dress shoes catch my eye as I’m crouched down, and a lump catches in my throat. Rising, I release my held breath when my eyes find his. “Dante.”
    “Maren,” he says.
    And God, I love the way he says my name. It’s all deep and throaty, inherently. Not forced. Primal almost.
    “Hungry?” he asks.
    “It’s for Dash,” I say with a smile. I push my glasses up my nose and remember exactly what I look like. My cheeks warm. I’m a confident woman – most of the time – but looking like a slob in front of a man who looks like a million bucks throws me off my game a little. I’m only human.
    “How’s he doing? He okay?”
    “Yeah, he’s fine. Thank you. Hurt his ankle fighting with his brother.”
    Dash’s lips, which I’m now noticing are soft and full and framed with a hint of a five o’clock shadow, curl up at the corners. “I know how that goes. Grew up with a whole houseful of brothers. We practically lived at the ER.”
    “What about you?” I ask, head tilted slightly. “Everything okay with you?”
    His smile