Page 13 of Reckless Devotion

“Sorry Pepper, tough break.” Jack offers me a sad, consolatory smile. “You think Sunny will be mad?”

Grumbling incoherently in response, I stare down at my hand clamped so tightly around the bag of candy that I’m now responsible for the mass genocide of twenty tiny sugar-coated children. With a stomach like lead at the thought of delivering the bad news to her, I sit back down in my chair. Except…I don’t.

“Blargh!” My haste to stand must have rolled it away, because the next thing I know, I’m ass over tit, blinking up at the lights, a dull pain radiating up my tailbone.

“Err, you alright?” Golden wavy hair appears in my periphery and I groan.

“ChasefuckingWalker!”

***

“What, in theever-loving-shit,is happening here?” I demand to the room at large, taking in the irregularity of the scene before me.

Sunny blinks up from her canvas, a thick paintbrush clamped between her teeth and a smudge of green paint by her left eyebrow. I’m more concerned with the man near-horizontal in my recliner chair with his hands clasped behind his head and his bare feet out.

“Were we not meant to meet for paint club this week?” Miriam’s grey braided hair appears above a canvas and easel, frowning at me through magnifying clip-on glasses nipped onto the end of her nose.

“It’s not—I didn’t—” I splutter, my eyes glued to Chase Walker. In my apartment. In my chair. With hisfeetout.

“She means why am I here,” Walker drawls lazily, unclasping his hands and reaching down to retract my armchair into an upright position.

“Yes,” I snap hotly, taking a few more steps into my living room. Acidic fury coils around my spine, raising the hairs on my arms to full salute. This is my sanctuary. My safety. And Chase fuck-wit Walker is not allowed in here. Ever. “Actually, I don’t care why. Just get out.”

Sunny snatches the paintbrush from her mouth in alarm. “Pepper! Why are you being so rude to our model?”

I don’t look at her, my icy gaze trained on the man still sitting in my armchair with a bemused expression. The silence deepens, along with tentative glances exchanged between others. I have to fight very hard not to panic, not to indulge the sepia-toned images fighting to yank me back to that moment in time when my life fractured.

Astute, burnt whiskey eyes narrow a fraction and a low noise vibrates from him, almost a grunt. I brace myself for a fight, to be berated for ignoring his outreach, or a pompous lecture on respect, at least.

“Okay, I’ll go,” he startles me by announcing, leaning down to pull on his discarded socks and shoes.

“You…will,” I say it as a statement and not a question, but it’s weak all the same, betraying the surprise that eats up my anger in an instant.

“Yes.” He stands to his full, almost intimidating size and buttons his suit jacket. “But I wish to speak with you outside for a moment.”

“Er…you do?” Fuck, fuck, fuck it. I’ve somehow ended up a stuttering idiot, all of my usual prickly defenses blunted and vulnerable.

“I do.” He starts to walk toward me, causing my neck to crane up with each long stride of powerful legs. “In fact, I insist.”He blows right past me at that, in a cloud of something that is intensely masculine and ever so distracting. Once the perplexing fragrance fades, his words sink in.

“Oh, youinsist?” I turn on my heel and march over to our apartment door that he is now halfway through, the succinct return of agitation spurring me back to life. “You, Chase Walker”—I launch my finger in his direction in what I consider to be a damning point—“are a—”

He turns so fast I can’t slow my momentum and end up piling into a steely hard wall that turns out to be his chest, finger first, face second, tits third.

“We had a deal, Miss Quinn.” That intriguing scent is back again, along with large hands clamped to each of my upper arms.

I stare up at him, attempting to regain my equilibrium. And just when I think I’ve almost found it, he picks me up and places me at arm's length. Yes, physicallyliftsme off the floor with his grip and gently places my feet back onto the carpet three feet away from him.

“You don’t get to renege.” He swiftly drops his hold, a fierce glint emerging from the depths of toasted umber. “You will keep your word and help me find the assholes who stole my tech, or I’ll pull my lawyer off your case so quick you won’t even have time to figure out that prison-jumpsuit orange clashes horribly with that ridiculous hair of yours before you’re behind bars.”

My lips pop open in outrage. “I have been helping! I went to the address linked to the phone contract last night.”

He looks dramatically behind him as I fold my arms, as if looking for outside help to deal with a crazy lady being unreasonable. When he’s realized he’s on his own, his gaze lands back on me. “Helpmebeing the operative word, Miss Quinn.You can’t just galivant off on your own. You go with me or not at all.”

I raise one brow ironically, causing him to scoff. Yes, he’s well aware I would take option B if I could. I reign in my temper, rolling my eyes with as much sass as I can muster—just to irritate him. “You’ll only slow me down.”

“You’re acting like I’m a novice with no experience,” he bites, showing his first flare of true annoyance since I arrived. It streaks down my spine like a warm slither of victory.

“Aren’t you?” I drawl, delivering what I hope is a pitiful glare.