Read on for a look at book one of the
Reckless Heart series by Heather Van Fleet.
Collin
“Damn it, Max. How many times do I have to tell you not to mix the reds with whites when you’re washing clothes in hot water?”
I tossed the laundry basket holding my newly ruined rugby jersey on top of the dining room table. It landed with a thud, knocking down one of the musical toys my nine-month-old daughter, Chloe, loved.
Raising a baby daughter with a couple of guys is a lot like being a marine. It’s an intense experience that requires constantly being all-in just to save someone else’s back while he manages to save yours. It smells like shit ninety percent of the time, and every time you move, another body is up in your space. But you do it because you love it. There isn’t any other option but to live and breathe it. In my life, my daughter—and the guys who helped me through—were all I needed.
That, and maybe a cleaning lady.
I spun around on my untied cleats, the sound of “Mary Had a Little Lamb” playing in the background as I rushed toward the breakfast bar to grab Chloe’s diaper bag.
In the hallway to my right, my roommate—and certified laundry screwup—Max stood grinning, holding my girl in his arms. Dressed and ready to go, thank Christ, she sported a tiny green Carinthia Irish Rugby jersey her aunt Lia had made for her when Max, Gavin, and I joined the intramural club a few weeks back.
“You yelling at me, Colly?” Max kissed the top of Chloe’s head, probably holding her on purpose ’cause he knew I wouldn’t lay into him with Beaner in his arms.
With a thumb in her mouth, she snuggled closer to her pseudo-uncle’s chest, still half-asleep from her nap. My throat grew tight as I took in her gorgeous face. Lucky for Max, the anger I’d been harboring disappeared with that one look at Chloe.
My daughter was my world—my peace, my rock. And even though the past eight months hadn’t been picture perfect for us as a family or as far as life went, we were good as a unit—me, her, and Max, along with Gavin, who lived in the attached duplex.
Except that none of us could do laundry to save our asses.
“What were you thinking?” Glancing at the clock on the wall, I dropped the diaper bag on the floor next to my rugby bag and grunted. “Now the thing’s pink and green, which means the guys are gonna rag on my ass all day.” On the table sat a stack of five diapers. I grabbed a couple and shoved them into the bottom of the diaper bag, along with a few toys.
“Where’s your spare?”
“Dirty.”
Max set Chloe inside the playpen by the TV, then handed her the bottle I’d made up a few minutes back that’d been sitting on the coffee table. “Dude, pink is kick-ass.”
I shot him a look. “Watch your mouth.”
Ignoring me, he walked over to the basket, thumbing through it for a pair of socks, taking his time, chatting like a little kid, and acting like we weren’t fifteen minutes behind schedule.
“You’ve got the pink-for-breast-cancer thing going on, like the Save the Ta-Tas T-shirts.” Max picked his jersey—the one that had managed to stay green and white—out of the pile, then shoved it inside his rugby bag on the floor next to mine. “Then there’s pink bubble gum that never loses its flavor…” He waggled his dark eyebrows and jogged over to the breakfast nook that separated the dining room from the kitchen. He tossed two Gatorade bottles my way. I caught both, tucking them in my own bag, along with my pink-and-green jersey.
“Finally, there’s my favorite reason that pink is cool. Wanna hear it?”
Not really. But I shouldered my duffel, along with Chloe’s diaper bag, and waited for him to finish anyway. When he didn’t say squat, I sighed and finally said, “Jesus, don’t leave me hanging. I won’t be able to sleep at night without knowing why it’s cool to have a pink-and-green jersey.”
With a smirk, I turned to face him again, just as he tossed me the baby wipe container. I caught it one-handed and shoved it into the side of Chloe’s bag.
“Mock me now, but I’m serious. Pink lip gloss looks hot as hell when it’s on a woman’s lips. Especially when those lips are wrapped around the head of my—”
“Shut it.” I pointed a finger at him, glancing back at Chloe. Wide baby blues stared back and forth between us, watching, waiting, almost like she knew exactly what we were talking about.
Max shot his hands up in defense while I sat on a chair to tie my cleats.
“Just saying. Pink is a good color.” He winked at Chloe. “Adds character. Right, Beaner?”
Eyes damn near sparkling, she babbled something or another from around her bottle, her blond hair sprouting all over the place. Before I could bitch about Max using my daughter against me, Gavin came busting through the front door, sandy hair hanging over his eyes. Any longer and he’d have the old Justin Bieber hairstyle beat.
But then I saw what he was holding and froze, while trying to ignore the snorts coming out of Max’s nose.
“New car seat’s ready.” Gav kicked the door shut behind him with the bottom of his foot, meeting my stare.
Max laughed harder, reaching down to grab Gav’s jersey this time. He tossed it at him, a perfect shot that landed on his shoulder. Like Max’s, Gavin’s was also still green and white.
“What?” Gav looked back and forth between the two of us, his lip curling as he set the hot-pink car seat down on the floor. “Quit looking at me like that.”
Teeth gritted, I stood and tied the string on my rugby shorts.
“Nice choice of seat colors, don’t you think?” Max smirked, pointing toward the car seat, before he took off out the front door, car keys spinning around his finger.
I rolled my eyes and shoved my bags at Gav. He took them, trying to defend himself as he said, “You told me to get a new car seat, so I got one. Chloe’s a girl, and girls like pink. What’s the big deal?”
“Colly’s just struggling with his masculinity today. Nothing new,” Max hollered from outside on the porch.
Ignoring my asshat of a best friend, I pulled Chloe out of her playpen and smiled as I tossed her in the air. The sanity that came with being a dad definitely outweighed the occasional insanity of my two best friends.
I buckled her into her new seat. Gav had already messed with the straps, adjusting the things to the perfect size. He was a genius like that, a certified master of all things safety and organization. He’d been that way from the second I met him in basic training six years ago.
“You going to fill me in?” He grabbed his cleats by the front door and tied them to the strap of his bag.
“You don’t wanna know,” I said, setting the handle of the car seat, now filled with my girl, over my forearm.
Gavin grunted something under his breath, then nodded before heading toward the door. I followed, not ready to face my teammates in my fucked-up jersey but more than ready to play.
“What’s this?”
I rammed into his back on the threshold, Chloe’s car seat digging into his ass. She let out a happy squeal and grinned up at me, bare feet kicking the air.
“What’s what?” I glanced over his shoulder.
His hand was in my bag, humor lacing his words as he said, “Think you need to borrow my other jersey.” He yanked the collar of mine out, a rare grin on his face.
I shut my eyes and yelled out the front door, “It’s pink, Max.”
“Real men wear it,” he yelled at me from the street before getting into his car.
Scratch my earlier thoughts. I needed my daughter, a cleaning lady, and a new roommate.
* * *
“Get the hell over here, Colly,” Max yelled from where he was sitting on the side of the pitch, his hands frantic as he waved them in the air at us. A few seconds later, the whistle blew, signaling the end of the game. The guys who weren’t helping to gather up the equipment jogged toward the stack of twenty-four packs set up on the sidelines, leaving me and Gavin with Jonathon, the club’s owner.
“Christ, Montgomery. You’re a bloody good player.” Jonathon slapped me upside the shoulders, wearing a wide smile. He’d organized the team years ago when he first moved to the States from Ireland, and now he was on the hunt for someone to take it over. Think he was looking at me to do it, but I wasn’t ready.
“Thanks. Felt really good out there.” Normally, I played to relieve a little stress and bond with my buddies. But today reminded me how much I still needed a competitive challenge in my life.
Max yelped, then fell back onto his hands as Maggie, Jonathon’s daughter, stood over him laughing.
Grinning, I nodded at the guys once more before I ran off the pitch myself, wordless and knowing what I’d find when I got there. Max didn’t do diapers, at least not the number-two kind.
“She exploded,” he explained, his eyebrows raised and his normally dark face paling. He looked to Maggie, like a ten-year-old could solve his problems. She watched Chloe during games when my sister couldn’t be there to do it.
Everything throbbed on my body. Neck, shoulders, back, the cleat marks on my face… But not a damn thing could take down my mood as I squatted next to my girl.
“Da, da, da, da,” she squealed, clapping her hands.
Max stood and took a few steps back, already sneaking away. “Just can’t do it, man. Sorry.”
“He said he was going to puke.” Maggie giggled, slapping her hand over her mouth.
I winked at her. “No doubt he did.”
As I reached for the diaper bag, Max said, “Thanks, Colly,” then took off, probably to flirt with one of the rugby groupies—the hot chicks who followed the single team members around after the games.
Gavin came up alongside me after that, running his hand over the top of Chloe’s head while I stood holding her. She reached for him, but he leaned over to kiss her nose instead of taking her. The guy loved Beaner, but she terrified him to no end.
“You coming to O’Paddy’s with us?” Jonathon wrapped his sweaty arm around his daughter’s shoulder. Her nose curled in disgust, but she didn’t move away.
“Not sure.” I shrugged and set Chloe on my hip. She laid her head on my damp shoulder, playing shy as Gavin did peekaboo with her.
It was hard for me to go out after games with the rest of the team. Not when I still had to wake up in the morning to be a parent, hangover or not.
“We’ll be there.” Gavin nodded once at Jonathon, then at me. “Max is staying home with Chloe, and you and I are going out for once.”
I raised my eyebrows. “That so?”
His face was smug with a secret. Like me, Gavin normally preferred the quiet house to a loud bar, so this was new coming from the guy who talked less than I did.
“Damn right you’re going. Not a choice for our MVP to ditch out on the after-party.” Another dude on the team—had to be freshly twenty-one—sidled up next to me. I barely knew him, but he was a good guy.
He tossed Gavin a beer, offering me one too. “No thanks,” I said. I’d never drink with Chloe in my arms.
Jonathon laughed, head thrown back. “Ah, so glad it’s not gonna be me this time. The wife would have my ass.” And with that, he grabbed Maggie, along with the newbie, and headed back toward the pitch to grab the rest of the equipment.
I turned to Gavin. “What was that all about?”
“Nothing.” He scrubbed a hand over his mouth, hiding a smile.
“Doesn’t sound like nothing.” I frowned.
“You’ll see.”
Before I could ask what he meant, a squeal distracted me. Chloe reached for the air, trying to grab the crispy, red and yellow leaves blowing in a swirl around us. Her blond curls blew wildly in the wind, brushing against my cheek. I inhaled, the scent of baby lotion invading my senses and calming me.
Gavin, the everyday hero, grabbed a leaf for her. He motioned at Max across the way, green eyes squinting. “How does he do it?”
Like I knew there would be, a small circle of women was gathered around our best friend, laughing and pawing at his shoulders.
“No clue.” I shook my head, not jealous exactly, more curious like Gav was.
The three of us all had something we were good at. Max was a people person, always on the hunt for a new woman to entertain. He worked odd jobs, never sticking to something longer than a few months. But he had the ability to make people laugh and feel comfortable.
Gavin was the type who worked to take care of others—to keep them safe and healthy. He was an EMT and an ex-medic from our days as marines. Quiet, yeah, but honorable, someone who’d always have your back.
Then there was me.
I wasn’t rich. Didn’t have a job that satisfied me past paying the bills and the mortgage, and putting food on the table. There was no woman in my life that I could kiss when I needed to or hold in my arms when life got to be too much. But I barely had time to breathe, let alone date, so that was the last thing on my mind.
Bottom line? I did the best I could with what I was given. Anything else was just details.