Three Reckless Words: Chapter 2

This kid will be the death of me.

Fatherhood, that’s something I signed up for wholeheartedly a long damn time ago, back when I was a different person. My priorities were different then, fumbling around after startup ideas in loud bars after work.

The second we found out we were having Colton, though, I was all in.

I have been ever since.

I knew playtime was over. I needed to man the fuck up and be the kind of dad who has his shit together to give his son the best crack at life possible, and I’ve been busting ass to make that happen.

I’m still keeping that promise, I think, even if it’s won me a lot of grief and a few grey hairs.

Long hours at the company, building up a money machine and a legacy that will unlock his dreams? Check.

The best education money can buy in the Kansas City metro? Check.

Parent-teacher meetings, homework help, extra classes, taking trips out to feed his curiosities? Fucking check.

When he was really little, every time I wasn’t at the office, I was with him.

Free time? I forgot the meaning of the word.

Back then, I remember thinking it might get easier one day. When he was older, more mature, maybe I could finally have a break. He’d grow into himself by his teens and be more independent. More responsible. Less clueless, especially with how smart he is.

Ha.

Turns out, I’m the guy with clueless stamped on his forehead.

And it’s the one night this week when I thought I’d get a quiet evening at home to crack open a thick porter and spend the evening scouting Higher Ends’ next acquisition in the crowded luxury rental space we’ve muscled our way into.

Then life happened.

My boy reminds me you don’t get to sleep on being dad.

I grit my teeth as I narrow my eyes at the road.

I’m not pissed that he showed up at our newest property and set off a few fireworks, though I’ll still ground him for a week just for that.

The worst part is, Colton fucking lied to me.

He said he was hanging out at his friend’s house to work on a chemistry project tonight.

It was believable when he’s become part mad scientist, already doing college work well beyond his grade level in math and science.

Fireworks aren’t chemistry.

And fuck, I’d really gotten into figuring out where we can expand this glamping line—its success has triggered a whole new direction for our company if we want to invest more. I’ve mapped out some new land we could build on, thinking about our branding, and I was about to crack open my beer when the assistant called.

A reported break-in at our premier cabin, Solitude.

And the intruder is my own son.

Quiet evening, obliterated.

All I could do was be happy I hadn’t started drinking because now I’ve got to personally haul ass up there and handle this myself. No way can I hand something like this off to an employee.

My own flesh and blood did this, and then he bullshitted me right to my face.

If the boy wants fireworks, he’s about to get them.

My nostrils flare as I squeeze the wheel, wanting to get this whole episode over and done.

The sooner I can chew him out, the faster I might figure out where the hell this whole escapade went wrong. Every father expects a little teenage rebellion, sure, but you never expect how your half-grown kid decides to kick you in the nads.

He used to be a good kid, too. Quiet, serious Boy Scout type. Hardworking as well.

Well liked with his books and anime and wood carving. Colt spends whole weekends planning his next project for science fairs and watching animated strong men yell at each other in badly dubbed English.

Now, I’ve got him breaking and entering at my star properties.

What the hell happens in a year or two when he’s older? When he can finally drive, and then when the day comes to turn him loose for college?

Inwardly, I groan, stomping the gas.

I finally hit the turn for Solitude and pull up next to a newer looking vehicle parked there. A Trailblazer. Smaller than some of the other models, but still a decent-sized SUV.

I guess the occupants hear me arrive. Before I’ve reached the front door, it swings open, and a woman wearing a baggy tee and plaid pajama bottoms steps out on the porch.

It takes less than a second to notice she’s stunning.

She can’t be that old, probably in her mid-twenties.

Long curly auburn hair that looks a little damp in the porch light.

Sparkling green eyes made to shame emeralds.

Full plush lips for whispering secrets.

Legs, hips, and just enough softness around her waist to threaten a man with a good time—or else break his heart to hell and back.

For a second, I almost stop moving, staggering forward like this dumb beast caked in cement.

Any other night, I could gawk at this woman for hours.

Maybe we’d lock eyes and she’d smile with those heart-shaped lips like the start of every bad hookup. Maybe I’d give in to my baser instincts I normally keep chained up.

Tonight is not that night.

Her jaw looks tight, her eyes are restless, and she’s right on the edge of unloading pure venom into the gold star jackass who got her into this mess.

Technically, that jackass is me.

And now I have to deal with the fact that my bored-ass son probably scared her out of her skin.

“Hello, I’m Winnie,” she says as I approach, her voice clipped.

“Archer,” I say, trying to force a smile that doesn’t fit my face.

Christ, I want this over already.

The fact that she’s looking at me with the same caution I have leveled on her just makes this worse. So is the fact that it’s less anger than fear on her face, I realize.

They must’ve rattled her so bad she cried, judging by the puffy marks under her eyes.

“I’m sorry about all this,” I rush out. “This isn’t remotely in line with our brand, and it’s certainly not what you should ever expect from a stay at our properties.”

“It’s… it’s life, I guess. I’m the forgive and forget type. Do you want to see him?” She steps back to let me inside as I nod.

My eyes lock on Colt immediately, sitting at the island with his friends. He looks up like the guilty little imp he is as I stride over.

“Explain what the hell you think you were doing. Right now,” I snap.

Then I notice the cake.

The fucking wedding cake.

It’s there, smack in the middle of the table, complete with royal icing and pink and purple flowers and a miniature bride and groom discarded off to one side. For some unholy reason, all three kids have a plate heaped with large half-eaten slices.

I have to rub my eyes.

Colt might be stupid, but there’s no denying his luck.

Only my son crashes a honeymoon and winds up eating wedding cake. What a life he has.

Correction, had.

Seeing this, his ass is grounded until Christmas, and that’s almost six months away. Hell, maybe I’ll put him under house arrest until he’s eighteen, because what the ever-loving fuck is going on?

He gives me a pained smile and pushes his plate toward me. “Uh, Dad? You want some?”

Kill. Me. Now.

I open my mouth, trying to find the right words, while the woman—Winnie, she said—sidles around behind the kids. She puts a hand gently on Colt and Evans’ shoulders like she’s protecting them.

From what? Me?

I don’t like where this is going.

Look, I’ve never been known for my bottomless patience when someone pushes my buttons, and tonight my diplomacy well is pretty damn dry.

“Don’t be too mad at them,” she says softly. “They screwed up big-time, yeah, but doesn’t everyone when they’re young?”

I realize I’m scowling, staring through her, so I try to moderate my expression.

She’s a customer, you dolt. Don’t make this worse. If she’s willing to let it ride with a stern warning, be grateful. Get them home and then you can deal with Colt.

Preferably, without a review or a lawyer up your ass.

“I gave them the cake,” she continues.

I draw a deep breath, then another, shaky confusion slashing through my anger.

“Why would you—can I ask why?”

“Oh, well… I laid into them when I first found out. I was upset, but I felt bad. Plus, I figured it would keep them out of more trouble.” She eyes the cake sadly. “It’s not like I can eat the whole thing alone, anyhow.”

Alone?

I don’t follow.

Whenever her new groom emerges from wherever he’s hiding, she won’t have to eat the whole thing herself, I’m sure. Also, she didn’t need to reward my boy and his co-conspirators for being absolute hellraisers.

“Thanks, Winnie,” Colt says, grinning up at her. She returns the smile, though I notice the expression doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“He tells me you’re his dad?” she says, looking at me again. “And that you’ll take Briana and Evans home?”

“I will,” I growl, giving Evans and Briana, Colt’s almost-crush, a glare. “And I’ll certainly be telling their parents what happened here.”

“Dad! Not cool.” Colt stabs his cake with his fork.

“I’ll tell you what’s cool as soon as we get to the car, young man,” I warn him, and he falls silent again, still tearing at his cake like he wants to murder it.

“Oh, it’s fine. I told them off plenty.” Winnie leans against the counter now, her slim arms folded. Through the open door to the bathroom, I see a pile of white that looks like a wedding dress. “They’re just kids. No need to ruin their life.”

“Kids who broke into private property, a space you paid for with a reasonable expectation of safety and peace.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, rubbing between my eyes. I so didn’t need this shit show tonight, even if she’s being weirdly accommodating. “We’ve taken up enough of your time, Miss Winnie. We’ll be out of your hair in a flash. You can be sure I’ll be crediting you with a free stay for your trouble.”

“Oh. Um.”

“Is that a problem?”

“No, not at all.” She hesitates. “I kinda wondered if I could get an extension on my stay? Like, what are your weekly rates? I’ll pay for the rest of it beyond what I booked, of course.”

I look at her like she’s insane.

She must be.

What person would ask to continue a honeymoon here after this disaster? Then again, with the wedding cake out and her dress on the floor, it could be a casual situation where they plan to spend the week in bed.

“You want to know the weekly rates,” I say, checking to make sure I heard her right.

“Yeah, I mean…” Her teeth pull at her bottom lip, sucking like it’s a comfort. I watch her for too long before I realize what I’m doing.

Fuck.

It’s too late and too awkward for this kind of crap.

“I can afford it if that’s what you’re thinking?”

“No. I’m just surprised you’d like to stay longer, after everything.”

“The kids? I’m sure it’s a fluke. A one-time thing.” She glances over at them with what could almost be fondness.

Colt has finished greedily devouring his cake. He’s looking at me with suspicion, or maybe hoping Winnie can plead his case before he’s sentenced to the doghouse.

Cool it, boy. It’s coming.

“I mean, sure, they scared me at first,” Winnie says with a laugh, “but I like this place a lot. I just got here but I can tell it’s really calming. I can’t wait to see it in the daylight. It also has bees!”

Bees?

For the third time tonight, I’m shocked almost speechless.

I honestly forgot we had a few bee boxes at the end of the garden.

I didn’t think it would be a draw for most people. I mostly let it ride because my landscaper suggested it, an add-on that punched his happy environmental buttons.

But Winnie lights up like a Christmas tree.

Not just a quick smile. More like something switched on inside her.

It’s rare to see a brightness like that. Her eyes glimmer, her smile glows, and I swear her entire body rises, poised on her tiptoes, giving the illusion she’s about to go airborne.

Weird? Hell yes.

Of all the things in the world to get excited over, this woman picks bees. But if it saves her from suing me and somehow convinces her to pay us more money, fine.

I’ve never understood customer psychology.

“Yes. Yes, there are bees,” I say after a second, when it’s clear she’s expecting a response. I clear my throat. “I’ll look into the weekly costs and make sure we have no booking conflicts on the calendar, and then I’ll get back to you or your husband, Winnie.”

Boom.

The spark in her eyes instantly snuffs out.

Her heels sink back to the ground.

Her shoulders tense and she grips the countertop, hard enough to turn her knuckles white.

“No husband. Just me,” she says quietly.

Shit.

I am baffled.

I glance at the wedding topper. Definitely a bride and groom, right? Or maybe that groom is a more manly bride? Is she…

“My bad,” I say quickly, shaking my head. “Your wife, then. Your partner. Significant other?”

Yeah, I’m flailing.

“Nope. Nada. None of the above.” Her throat ticks as she swallows, shaking her head roughly. “There’s no one else. It’s just me.”

Oh.

“I see,” I say flatly.

Just her, with a pretty little wedding cake on the table and a wedding dress on the floor. I’ve heard of these people who marry themselves, but I never thought I’d meet one.

Goddamn, what sort of crazy does Solitude attract?

We just opened this place not long ago.

But she sends me a pleading look, and even though an urge to play detective eats at me, I let it go.

I still have Colt and his minions to sort out.

I turn back to my son, who shrinks in his chair.

“So,” I say, tapping my fingers against my bicep as I look at the way the kids trade panicked glances. “Who wants to tell me what you guys were doing here?”

“We really were at Evans’,” Colt says. The other two nod furiously. “We were doing science, Dad. I was helping them with that summer project for extra credit.”

“Right.” I let silence fall as I wait for the rest of it.

“Even Bree,” he says. The girl takes another bite of cake, smacking her lips like this is no big deal. But her shoulders and neck show tension.

Her dad’s a hardass construction manager and a former Marine. He’s going to be mad as fuck that she’s out here causing trouble, and I don’t blame him.

So am I.

“It was my fault, Mr. Rory,” Evans confesses, hanging his head. There’s a smear of icing on his plate still, and he looks at it sadly. “My brother, Jack, he offered to drive us out here. We figured it would be sort of fun to light off a few.”

I study each kid slowly.

“So Jack chauffeured you guys all this way to dick around with my guests?”

Shamefaced, Colt slides a company key card over.

“We… we thought it would be empty,” he mumbles. “I checked the schedule yesterday at your office when we stopped by. There was no one booked.”

“Oh, my.” Winnie’s cheeks flare red. “Yes, it was a very last-minute booking. I’m sorry.”

“No. You do not apologize for my boy and his friends when they could’ve burned this place down and you along with it,” I snarl and immediately regret it.

Damn.

See, this is why Patton is the client-facing brother in the rare cases where we need to deal with our base personally. I don’t have the bedside manner for it.

“Sorry,” I mutter.

To my surprise, the flicker of a smile crosses Winnie’s face again. “It’s been a long day for me, too. I totally get it.”

Colt looks at her with dawning respect. Guess it’s been a long-ass time since somebody has taken to me snapping at them so well.

“Yeah, sure,” I say. “Long day. Not helped by fools with contraband fireworks.” I hold back on calling them little assholes, even if that’s what they are. I’m not looking forward to telling their parents what I caught them doing.

I switch my attention to the brown bag by the wall.

Not that I need anyone to tell me what’s in it. More fireworks, I’m sure.

Enough to destroy this place, the surrounding woods, and get me investigated for arson and insurance fraud.

Colt and Evans, taking their usual shit a step too far, and probably trying to impress Briana along the way.

I’m lucky I’m not stuck in a police station with burly cops and firefighters growling questions in my face.

“Let me guess,” I say, “Jack bought you the fireworks too? Anything else you’d like to add?”

“Dad, we… we weren’t firing them off next to the house. We set up in the gardens. It was stupid, yeah, but we used common sense.”

Common sense?

I’m never a violent man with my boy.

But I’m closer than I’ve ever been to smacking him across the face.

“They really weren’t. Not that it makes it okay. It’s super dry out there.” Winnie positions herself between me and the kids like she thinks she needs to shield them or something.

Annoying.

I look at her, waiting for more.

“I think they only set off a couple before I noticed. Basically just a big dumb Roman candle and a little bottle rocket.”

“Leave this to me. I know how to handle my kids when they’re doing their damnedest to ruin my property,” I say coldly. This time, she does flinch back. “You just focus on having a nice stay, Miss…”

“No Miss. Just Winnie.”

“Fine, Winnie. We’ve ruined your night enough and these guys need to get home. Thanks for your trust, and you enjoy your stay now.” I dig around in my pocket and fetch a business card, leaving it on the island for her. “If you need anything else, here’s my personal number.”

“The only thing I need is a little peace and quiet for once,” she says under her breath, so quiet I almost don’t catch it.

Yeah, no shit. Isn’t that on everyone’s list? It’s how I wanted my evening to end before I had to drive out here.

“We’ll get out of your hair.” I wave to Colt and the others, who slide off the seats.

“Thanks for being cool, Winnie,” Evans says, giving her a fist bump, which she returns with a brief grin.

“Steer clear of the fireworks, guys,” she tells them. “It’s a slippery slope. Listen to your dad.”

“Gotcha.”

Colt waves goodbye, and even Briana, who’s never smiled in my direction once, flashes her a smile.

“Hey, wait,” Winnie says, just as I’m at the door, finally escaping. I have to bite back a sigh as I stop and the kids head out into the night. I unlock the car for them and the lights on my SUV flash. “You’ll be in touch, right? About the extended stay?”

“About the bees, you mean?” I’m not sure why I bother saying that.

Maybe because this night desperately needs some comic relief.

“Yes, the bees.” She puts her hands on her hips. Even though she must be ten years younger than me, she gives me the same kind of look my mom throws around when she thinks I’m being difficult. “Is that a problem?”

“Not at all, ma’am.”

She blows out a long breath and leans against the doorway. “Just let me know if I can stay, okay? It’s really important and I’d love to know ASAP.”

That much, I can do.

What I can’t do is indulge the insane urge to ask what the hell is really going on with her.

I don’t like dealing in mysteries.

As soon as anything suspicious shows up, I like to get to the bottom of it. That’s always been my thing, and I sure as hell don’t want to stop now.

But her life—her uniquely Winnie weirdness—that’s none of my business.

Important to remember before I start pawing at some beautiful woman’s background when she clearly wants to keep it secret. Doesn’t matter if I can’t forget how she froze up when I mentioned a husband.

And the wedding dress, which looks like it’s been ripped to pieces when I glance at it again.

What happened here?

What was supposed to happen before she was interrupted?

She doesn’t seem crazy enough for seances and magic, and she’s too shy and soft-spoken to be a theater kid.

“I told you, Winnie, I’ll let you know the minute I’ve checked the schedule.” I fight to keep the impatience from my voice. The sooner I get out of here, the better. “I’ll be in touch tomorrow. We have your details in the system.”

“Oh, my details?” She swallows, like she hadn’t expected me to say that.

“Yeah. You filled out your name, email address, and phone number on the online form.” I wonder why she squirms uncomfortably. Why is she acting like she doesn’t want me to know anything about her?

That nonsensical dress haunts my brain again.

Surely, it isn’t something criminal? But I’m at a loss, trying to imagine what.

Smuggling drugs for some shady group with a stopover at a luxury property seems like a weird way to do it.

“Yeah,” she says, her voice a breath. “That’s all private, though, right?”

“Our privacy policy was outlined on the website, yes.” I definitely don’t have time for whatever paranoia she’s suffering. “We only keep your data as long as you’re here. I promise we don’t sell it to any third parties. As soon as you’re out of here, the system automatically deletes it, unless you sign up for our rewards and offers. I won’t have your number any longer.”

“Oh.” Her eyes widen. “Oh. I wasn’t worried about—I didn’t think you were…” She trails off. Even in the dim light from the kitchen, I see her blush. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make it sound like I’m—”

“It’s fine.”

Yet she looks like she wants to say more, rocking forward on her heels before slumping backward. “Sorry again. I just really need this stay.”

With the bees, apparently.

No husband, just bees.

Bizarre, but not my problem.

None of this is, and I have no intention of adding her to my plate when I have real discipline to dole out to Colt and his crew.

“We’ll talk soon,” I promise.

She gives me a shy little half wave, my cue to go.

Fucking finally.

The kids are waiting in the car, talking nervously among themselves. Their lips stop moving the second they see me coming.

Colt, he’s up front with me, and the other two are strapped in the back.

Without hesitation, I start the engine and back out of the driveway, feeling three pairs of eyes drilling into my head.

“We’re super-duper sorry, Dad. Honest,” Colt says, twisting his fingers on his lap.

“…are you really gonna tell my mom?” Evans asks in a small voice.

“You bet your ass I will. And your father, Briana. It’s not personal, it’s just what I do.”

She scowls like I just told her to wipe off her makeup, but I don’t give a shit.

That’s what dads are for—to be the stonehearted voice of reason teenagers won’t appreciate until they’re ten years older.

Truth be told, I think I’ll be pissed for a while too, whatever Winnie wants be damned.

If there’s no spouse, then she probably doesn’t have kids.

She doesn’t get what it’s like.

Sure, she might be trying to play it cool, but she called this in. I have no doubt she was freaked in the moment, whatever she thinks now.

And with fireworks popping off next to miles of woods in a midsummer drought, these jokers could’ve ignited an inferno that would’ve needed the National Guard called in to put it out.

Besides, it doesn’t make sense that she’s trying to play it off like nothing happened. She’s the one who made the big deal about it in the first place.

Not to mention the cake, the dress, the nagging mystery of what she’s up to.

Something’s going on back there, no question.

As I drive through the darkness in stony silence, my gut screams that tomorrow won’t be the last time I talk to Winnie.

I should keep an eye on her.

Just in case.