Fall For You: A Reverse Grump Romantic Comedy (A Season's Detour, Book 2)

by Hayleigh Sol

  “Bailey, where’ve you been? Ashley told me you two met and then you disappeared.” She peeked around my shoulder and smiled. “Aha. Should’ve known you were behind the disappearance of my girl. A natural‌–‌born troublemaker, this one.”

  The troublemaker‌—‌far too innocuous a term for him, in my first‌–‌hand opinion‌—‌pulled up even with me and slid his hands back into his pockets while Ashley blatantly checked him out.

  Ick, he hasn’t messed around with her already, has he?

  I swallowed hard, still unsure how to handle the conversation I needed to have with Tracie. “Trace, I, um‌…‌”

  “You okay, sweetie?” She leaned in close, considerately offering me privacy. Of course she did; she was a good friend. “You look a little green. If you need to‌—‌”

  Whatever she was about to suggest I might need I’d never know. Because a tall dude with dark hair he’d tried to tame the curls out of with product swooped in from the side, dragged her up against him in a highly suggestive pose that would’ve made even me blush if I hadn’t been so flabbergasted, and kissed the everloving daylights out of her.

  My jaw might’ve snapped shut by the time she came up for air; I couldn’t really say. I know my forehead was wrinkled as I looked to Ashley, expecting the same kind of shock but finding instead a sly, get‌–‌it‌–‌girl smile on her face. When I checked in with the man I’d come to expose as a cheater, his grin was even more baffling.

  And then the bastard winked at me.

  “Babe, I thought you’d never get here. Where are your parents?”

  “I left ‘em to find their own way here from the airport. Maybe they’ll finally figure out how to use Uber or Lyft.” He chuckled evilly.

  Tracie swatted his arm‌—‌one of two wrapped tightly around her as he peppered her cheek with kisses‌—‌and laughed. “You did not. Where are they?”

  “Dad had to dash to the restroom, again, and I left my mom chatting with yours over there.” The dark‌–‌haired, stubble‌–‌faced guy finally lifted his head from where it’d been attached to Tracie and looked toward, presumably, where his and Tracie’s mothers were. “Garrett, buddy, good to see ya. Ashley, how’s it going?”

  “Sweetie, this is Bailey. You two haven’t met yet. Bailey, this is Noah.”

  My gaze darted between the man with his hand outstretched to me and the blonde menace nearby. Who was still grinning wickedly. The jackass.

  “Nice to meet you, Noah. Glad I don’t have to tell my friend you’re a no good, cheating sonuvabitch.” I shook his hand as both he and Tracie stutter‌–‌laughed in confusion, then I stuck my hand out toward fake Noah.

  “Hi, I’m Bailey. Who the hell are you?”

  Chapter 7

  The whims of the cosmos could be a real pain in the ass. I liked to imagine the lives of us mere mortals were still messed with by the fickle gods of Greek or Norse mythology. Tricksters, like Loki, who were occasionally bored enough to screw around with someone as universally uninteresting as me. Just for shits & giggles.

  Case in point: I’d thought I was moments away from solving the Mystery of the Mistaken Identity.

  Not so fast, puny human female.

  The clinking of silverware on glass drew the attention of the room to its source. Tracie’s father introduced himself and her mother, thanking everyone for coming to celebrate with their family‌…‌blah blah blah. I was only half tuned‌–‌in to what he was saying, glancing over my shoulder at the dirty‌–‌blond‌—‌dirty scoundrel, more like‌—‌who was still smirking at my perplexed frown. Until his gaze swept up and down, blatantly checking me out, in a way I felt echo in my center.

  It was a good thing I’d already discovered he wasn’t the real Noah or I might’ve punched his stupidly handsome face then and there.

  Lending credence to my theory of trickster gods, his blue eyes were alight with a mischief reminiscent of Tom Hiddleston’s. Unlike the actor who’d surfed the Marvel money‌–‌making wave playing Loki, the man I’d erroneously assumed to be a surfer at our first meeting, was no beanpole. He had the more obvious muscular tone I craved in a man‌—‌especially one who filled out a dress shirt so well‌—‌and his eyes were an even more vibrant blue than Loki’s.

  Er, Tom’s. No offense, Hiddlebum.

  Yanking my attention away from that piercing gaze, I faced front, where Tracie’s mom was making her own toast to the happy couple. I felt the gentle movement of my short skirt against my thighs a millisecond before a breath brushed the shell of my ear.

  “Figured it out yet?”

  The mocking smirk was audible but, Lord help me, that whisper had me clenching my legs together. In defense? In search of relief? Who the hell knew at this point.

  He hadn’t moved away and, I swear, it felt like he brushed his nose over my cheek. It was too soft to be sure, just the tip cruising along my skin.

  Just the tip. I hiccupped a giggle like a sex‌–‌starved lunatic.

  “Something funny, sweetheart?” The endearment had been uttered with detectable sarcasm.

  I gulped and shook my head in a miniscule, jerky movement. Why was he still hovering over my shoulder? If he was going to stay in such close proximity to my ear, he should just lick it. Or kiss it. Or bite it already, dammit.

  “I’m the brother.”

  The what now? My poor brain was too foggy, clouded with his voice and his beachy scent and his absolute manliness behind me, to process what he’d just said.

  Ohhh, the brother. Tracie’s brother. She’d mentioned him to me a time or two, though not by name, that I could recall.

  Turning my head slightly‌—‌with the smallest adjustment on his part, our lips could’ve fused in a kiss certain to be searing‌—‌I met his eyes, certain my pupils were dilated with the intensity of my attraction to him. A tangle of wants and needs and fantasy images had flooded me the moment I’d fully grasped that he wasn’t my friend’s intended. A breaking of a dam made complete by his closeness and hushed voice.

  He wasn’t unaffected, either. His eyes flicked down to my lips and, for a moment, it looked like he was about to lean into that kiss. Until his lips flattened and he pulled back, just enough to put distance between us.

  From the “To Tracie and Noah” collective cheer that went up around us, I gathered the parental toasts were done. I mumbled along with the crowd, though I didn’t have a glass to raise to the couple, who were currently being swarmed by well‌–‌wishing party guests.

  “So, if Garrett’s your middle name, what’s your first?”

  Please be something truly unfortunate so I can focus on the awfulness of your name instead of the deliciousness of your body. Your smell. Your voice‌…‌

  I rolled my shoulder, shifting my weight onto my right leg and creating even more space between us.

  “Noah.”

  My scowl was instant and intense, making him chuckle.

  “Relax, tiger. That really is my name. I started going by my middle name when I was fifteen, when that stupid Notebook movie came out and women everywhere wouldn’t shut up about the main dude. At work, most people call me Noah now, but several family members still use Garrett. Especially once my sister started dating another Noah.”

  Huh, that made sense.

  Which meant‌—‌uggh, this sucked‌—‌I was going to have to apologize. “Well, how embarrassing. Obviously, I mistook you for the groom.” I huffed out a sigh. “I know I said some pretty harsh things back there”‌—‌his eyebrows raised; okay, some of what I’d said had been downright nasty‌—‌“but, I mean, can you really fault me when I was just looking out for a friend?”

  His hands were in his pockets and he rocked back on his heels, his lips twisting as he regarded me. “Hmm, I’ll have to think about it.”

  I scowled again, reflexively. “You’ll think about it.”

  What the hell was that supposed to mean? He wasn’t going to forgive an honest, well intentioned mistake? />
  Jerk.

  Arms folded across his chest now, he nodded once. “Yeah. You hurt my feelings with your snap judgment. I’m gonna need some time to decide whether or not I accept your apology. Which wasn’t technically an apology, by the way.”

  Of course I’d said I was sorry.

  Hadn’t I?

  I was sure I had. He was just screwing with me.

  His head tilted. “Maybe you should offer to make it up to me. Not that I can imagine how you would possibly be able to do that.”

  Was he flirting again or was he really being a pain in the ass about this? His facial expression wasn’t giving anything away and I was too flushed, too flustered, too everything to figure him out.

  “How about I let you know when I think of something. Wait by the phone, okay?”

  One side of his mouth tipped up. “You don’t have my phone number.”

  “I don’t, do I. Gee, what a shame.” I turned sharply on my heel, a vicious thrill of pride over my exit line shooting through me.

  Until I bumped into a petite septuagenarian, nearly knocking her on her ass.

  “I’m so sorry. Are you alright?” The woman patted my hand and assured me she was fine. She was really quite sweet about it.

  When I made the mistake of glancing over my shoulder, Garrett’s broad grin was present and accounted for. “Gramma Theresa, come give me a hug.”

  Aw, hell. I’d nearly knocked over Grandma. After accusing the bride’s brother of being a cheating asshole. This was not a good day for me.

  I stood awkwardly off to the side, wondering when I could make a graceful exit. I’d really have liked to just leave the party altogether and lick my wounds in the privacy of my own home. But that wouldn’t be fair to Tracie.

  Whose full name, come to think of it, was Theresa. Probably for the lady Garrett had bent down to embrace.

  Jeez, couldn’t this bunch find some original names once in a while?

  His eyes met mine over her shoulder, the humor still shining from their depths. I did the only thing I could think of ‌–‌ gave him a jaunty salute and marched off in the direction of the bar.

  Most of the way through my second raspberry mojito‌—‌I had to give Ashley credit, they weren’t half bad‌—‌I was looking at the entire debacle with Garrett philosophically.

  Thank you, rum.

  Either Tracie’s brother and I would someday laugh about my mistake and move on, or he’d continue to think I was a judgmental bitch and we’d never be friends.

  Boohoo, I had plenty of friends.

  So, rum not only brought out my inner philosopher, but also my sardonic ambivalence.

  “Hey, lady.” Tracie sat on a kitchen stool next to the one I’d parked myself on an hour‌—‌or five‌—‌earlier. It probably hadn’t been that long; the sun outside the wide windows was only now dipping below the horizon in streaks of vibrant oranges and reds.

  “Hey, how’s it going?” I managed to infuse my voice with the smile I worked up for her, slightly lopsided though it may’ve been.

  Thank you again, rum.

  In my peripheral vision, I detected the photographer approaching. Briefly, I’d been introduced to her when she’d taken shots of Noah and Tracie gazing adoringly at each other earlier. Jasmine was good at her job, mixing candids with posed photos and helping her subjects loosen up.

  “Ladies, let’s get a casual elbow‌–‌on‌–‌counter kind of pose with the bride and her maid of honor.”

  Tracie and I dutifully followed her directions, cracking up when Jasmine told the bride to quit smiling like a goober, or darted between us to tug down the hem of my dress as if we’d all been friends for years.

  Jasmine finished with us and dashed off to find her next victims. Hopefully, my drunky‌–‌drunk drooping eyelids could be airbrushed out, or photoshopped, or whatever photographers did these days to non‌–‌model type people.

  Stupid‌–‌hot Garrett would probably never need that kind of treatment.

  Tracie and I had managed a brief conversation about her brother and my assumptions earlier, which she’d laughed pretty hard at, waving away my apologies and insisting it was a mistake anyone could’ve made. She brought it up again now, trying to take the blame herself for not introducing him properly outside the bridal shop; she’d just assumed we’d taken care of all that ourselves.

  Since we’d “looked so cozy and all.”

  Yeah, she was hinting, big time, that I should go out with her bro. I laughed that off, telling her she was at risk of becoming one of those sickeningly happy brides who played matchmaker with her single friends and relatives. She rolled her eyes at me, but shut me up with the astute observation that the sparks she’d seen between us during her parents’ speeches couldn’t be faked.

  Apparently she’d noticed how close we’d been standing. Close enough I’d been able to feel the heat from his body on my skin, every shallow inhale I’d taken filled with his scent. Or maybe she’d seen him whispering in my ear. Thinking of it now made me shiver.

  Then, the little imp looked over my shoulder and grinned. “He can’t keep his eyes off of you, by the way.”

  I turned slowly, subtly following her line of sight.

  “Ha, made ya look.”

  I growled at her. “Not funny.”

  “Au contraire, my dear. I don’t think I’ve ever seen unflappable you looking, well, flapped. Do you like my smelly older brother, Bailey? Like him, like him?”

  I shook my head and laughed at her. Liking Garrett was too tame a description. In reality, I couldn’t remember a time I’d ever felt such a powerful attraction to a man. Never. Not once in my thirty‌–‌plus years. It made me feel even more guarded than my norm. Annoyed and, not that I’d admit it to a single soul, a little shaken.

  Good thing he’d been such an unforgiving jerk about my mistake.

  “I’ll take your silence as an admission.” Tracie’s smile was full of glee and I saw the family resemblance to her brother now.

  I really had been a colossal dope. “Doesn’t matter if I may have been interested in your brother when we first met. He’s pretty pissed at me; he didn’t take my blunder nearly as well as you did.

  “Besides, I’m taking a break from dating right now. Remember? And, even if I weren’t, you know I have a strict three‌–‌date maximum. Wouldn’t it be weird if your brother and your friend went out, maybe even hooked up a few times, and that was it?” Putting emphasis on the hooking up portion of that scenario was my diabolical attempt to repulse her to the point she’d change her mind about us. Maybe even forbid us from said hookup.

  A mandate to stay away from Garrett Newberg was feeling like something I desperately needed at the moment.

  “Well, that sure seems like a solid list of reasons for why it wouldn’t work. How long have you had that ready?”

  I may have growled at her again. You don’t wanna poke this bear, lady.

  “Assassinating my character again over here?”

  Dammit, how did he keep sneaking up on me?

  Tracie hopped off her stool and pushed her much taller brother onto it. “Stop that, G. You sit right here and make up with Bailey.”

  “And why would I want to do that?”

  “Uggh, you two are the worst.” She threw her hands up in exasperation while I resolutely stared at my drink where it sat on the island counter. “Actually, you’re perfect for each other. I want it on record, right here and now, that I predict you two will make out at least once before I get hitched.”

  “Tracie,” I sputtered. Either she’d been partaking of the rum too, or she was more outspoken than I’d ever realized.

  Garrett merely laughed at his sister. “What a pity you don’t have anything to make book with on that prediction.” She shoved at his shoulder. “Now, scram. Bailey and I need to “make up” and you need to stop your man from telling that story about your trip to Mexico for the five hundredth time.”

  Tracie left with a grin and an e
xaggerated wink at both of us.

  Garrett turned to me and I made myself meet his gaze. “I’ve figured out how you can right your egregious wrong.”

  This oughta be good.

  Chapter 8

  The weekend after the engagement party, I schlepped out to my mother’s place in Monterey. It was her birthday and, though she insisted every year that she didn’t even want to acknowledge the day, my brother and I both knew there’d be hell to pay if we let that happen.

  Now, I’d always been a staunch believer that one should never buy a person, particularly a woman, anything meant to make them “healthier”. Not a gym membership or an exercise bike, not a subscription to a fitness magazine or a healthy meal delivery service. That kind of gift was tantamount to a 1950s husband making the colossal misstep of gifting his wife an appliance.

  My mother was the exception to this rule.

  Knowing her as well as I did, I wasn’t surprised by her absolute joy over the latest home workout DVD program I’d gotten her. Hell, she’d been dropping hints for the past six months. Subtle she was not.

  “You should’ve brought your workout clothes, Bailey. We could’ve put in the first tape and exercised together.”

  God love her. The woman still called DVDs “tapes” and she actually thought a mother‌–‌daughter workout was the best way to spend her birthday.

  “With your business and now being in this wedding, you’re not skipping regular exercise, are you? Remember, guys don’t make passes‌—‌”

  “At girls with fat asses. Yes, Mom, I’m aware.”

  She nodded knowingly. “Well, good. Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels.”

  Ah, yes, another of her gems.

  It was her birthday, so I really should’ve bitten my tongue and agreed with her, but I’d been less and less able to do that as I’d gotten older and finally accepted my curvy‌—‌and fit‌—‌body the way it was.

  “You know, Mom, a lot of guys are into chicks with booties now. Actually, ever since Sir Mix‌–‌a‌–‌Lot’s anthem back in the day.”

  She huffed out a breath. “I don’t know who that is.” She totally did. She’d expressed her disgust with the song vociferously when it had been so popular. Denying it now was just her being difficult.