Falling Hard

by Tina Wainscott

  “And soon you’ll smell doughnuts and pastries,” Pax said, lifting a white box as he strolled in through the front door.

  Trey sighed. “I think I love you.” When Gary nudged him, because he was still looking at Pax, he added, “Both of them, for making this so special.”

  She squelched her smile as she and Pax arranged the pastries on a platter. “You can leave anytime today,” she said. “No checkout time imposed.”

  “Awesome,” Trey said. “We want to lie out on the beach and do some swimming. Then we’ll wash up and head out later this afternoon. Do you have our pictures ready?”

  “I’m going to work on those right now.” She poured a coffee for herself and headed upstairs.

  Pax grabbed his coffee and a croissant and followed. “Can I watch?”

  She paused, trying not to think about the naughty way she could take his innocent question. “Usually I don’t let clients look through the raw photos, but technically you’re not the client.” And he already knew about the ones she’d taken of him. “Sure, why not?”

  It felt oddly right—her, Pax, and Harley all trekking up the stairs. She fired up her laptop and went through the process of creating a new folder and transferring the files from her camera.

  Pax had pulled his chair right next to hers. “I’ve never been a big computer user, other than the Internet, but I’m learning an accounting system for the speedway.”

  She gave him a mock appraising look. “I know what you boys look up on the Internet.”

  Pax nodded long and slow, looking oh-so-contrite. “Racing schedules, results, asphalt companies, fencing suppliers”—he’d moved closer and now nestled his mouth next to her ear—“and lots of sexy, dirty car parts.” His voice had dropped to a whisper, and his lips grazed her skin as he spoke. “Cranks and rods. Pistons. Heads. And all that lube.”

  She shivered, pushing him back before she lost her concentration altogether. “Shame on you.” She couldn’t help smiling. “You sexy, dirty boy.”

  He sank back into his chair. “I know. I’m almost addicted. I really should vary my interests.” He shot her a you game? look.

  She had to force herself to focus on the computer and not on those dimples that made him look innocent and totally not at the same time. “Maybe you should try photography.”

  “Taking snaps with my phone is about as photo-y as I get. But I’ll hire you to take marketing shots for the track’s website.”

  “I’d love that.” A reason to slip back into town and see him. “I won’t even charge you.”

  “But I’ll pay you anyway. It’s your business.”

  “We’ll see about that.” She started going through the photos. Of course the first one was of Pax, with those dimples. “What do you think?”

  “Not bad. You got my good side.”

  “You don’t have a bad side.”

  He turned his face. “This side’s not so great.”

  She pushed at his arm, knowing that she was just looking for a reason to touch him. “You’re gorgeous, and you know it. Now stop distracting me.”

  His laughter burst out. “You have a way of delivering a compliment that just warms a guy’s heart.”

  She turned to him. “You seriously don’t consider yourself gorgeous?”

  He lifted one shoulder. “I’m okay. I don’t gaze at my reflection and say, ‘Damn, boy, you are flippin’ pretty.’ I bet you don’t, either, but you’re flippin’ beautiful.” He reached up and feathered his fingers through her bangs. “Even though you do cut your hair boy-short and dye it to tone down that incredible blond color that I now know is natural.”

  Her cheeks flushed. “You have a strange way of giving compliments yourself.”

  “I bet the girls would kill you if they knew that was your real color.”

  “Everyone assumed I dyed it, and I realized it was one more piece of evidence that I was loose. The guys thought that, didn’t they?” After a moment, she said, “Your hesitation is the answer itself. Did you?”

  “No,” he said without hesitation. “Remember, I saw your sensuality but I also saw that it was untapped. You didn’t flaunt what you had.”

  She loved that he had seen the real her. “You also said something about recognizing it because you felt the same. Do you mean that you were a virgin, too?”

  “Yep. And damned eager not to be.”

  She laughed, though inside she was crying. They would have been each other’s first.

  You can’t go back. Unfortunately, you’re having trouble going forward, too.

  Or even moving past the photo of Pax. “You look a little like Raleigh. When I first saw you two, I thought you were brothers.”

  “Come to think of it, when we used to troll the PCB bars the gals assumed we were related.” He shrugged. “Can’t say as I ever saw it so much. He’s built totally different from me.”

  “It’s your cheekbones, and a little in the eyes.” Not to mention that they were both great-looking. She started going through the photographs of Gary and Trey, moving some into a subfolder she’d created called “Meh.” Shots of the happy couple filled the screen. “I like this one.” Their hands, with their gleaming wedding bands, crossed and pressed into the sand.

  “Sweet. Was that your idea?”

  She liked the way he said “sweet,” drawing it out with that honeyed accent. “Yep. I like thinking of ways to use the surroundings. One time I was photographing a wedding couple the day after the ceremony. They donned their formals, and we went to Central Park for some scenic shots. This man was walking a litter of puppies, trying to keep them from tangling the leashes. One escaped and ran over to us. I had an idea: let the puppies loose and have them climb all over the couple. Some of my best kids’ shots are when the family pets jump into the scene. The couple were game, since they had to have their clothing dry-cleaned anyway. I promised to help corral any stray puppies, but it wasn’t necessary. Using the dog treats the guy had with him for training purposes, we lured them over and—oh, wait. I can show you.”

  She pulled up the folder and scrolled through photos of the bride and groom overrun by bundles of fur, their laughter almost palpable.

  “A-dorable.” His grin stayed in place when he turned to her. “You’re good.”

  “Thanks.” She returned to the current folder, trying not to get too giddy at his compliment. She found the shots where the guys pretended to hold the setting sun and stopped at the one where it lined up perfectly. “It’s one of those cheesy shots, but they’re fun.”

  “Nice.”

  After moving the rejects into the Meh folder, she came upon Pax’s derrière. Talk about nice.

  “Ah, the famous rear shot,” he said. “Or should I say infamous? See, your sensuality is alive and well. And here you were, cultivating it.”

  It was her turn to laugh. “If that’s what you want to call it.” But he was right. She’d been, er, very interested in Pax’s rear view. Even before she could ever conceive of the idea of them doing more than putting up with each other’s company. “I had a woman approach me about doing a boudoir layout for her to give to her husband. I wanted to. All these ideas were slamming into my head—settings, props, poses.”

  Pax’s eyebrow arched. “Props? Whips and cuffs?”

  “No.” There she went, touching his arm again. “Just sensual props—boas, food. But I turned it down. My mother wouldn’t even consider a shoot like that connected to our firm. She’s become quite religious since her second marriage to a pastor. I thought about doing it on my own, but I didn’t want it getting out to the church I belong to.”

  “You belong to a church?”

  She was about to say yes but paused. “I don’t belong, not really. I don’t think I ever belonged anywhere, other than with my Misfits Posse. And when I returned to New York City I didn’t belong with them anymore, either. I’d changed. My best friend, Casey, couldn’t relate to a version of me that sulked and didn’t want to party. Hanging out with the guys in the Po
sse only triggered my fears and distrust. I was damaged in a way no one could understand. I shut myself away from my old life. That fun, daring Gemma died that night on the beach.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. The Gemma who survived is smarter about life. She doesn’t drink much, and she doesn’t put herself in dicey situations with people she can’t trust.”

  He ran his fingers down her arm. “That girl, she’s still inside you. I’d like to see her again.”

  She moved away from his touch, feeling hurt somehow by those words. “She’s gone, Paxton. I’m just boring, messed-up Gemma now.” She knew she was being harsh, but it hurt that maybe the old Gemma was the right girl for him and the new one wasn’t. That maybe he was still in love with that version, still seeing that Gemma when he looked at her.

  “That’s the girl you’re really in love with,” she went on. “Admit it. You’ve gone on and on about how she dressed and how she was so different and how you felt with her.”

  “Uh, Gemma, that’s you you’re talking about. I swear, you sound jealous of yourself.”

  He was so sure of himself, and that only made her feel less sure of herself.

  She stood. “Well, let me tell you about that girl. She was stupid. She made bad choices, and she wore dumb clothes. She pretended to be worldly and cool, but she wasn’t. And it backfired.”

  He stood, too. “Come on, Gemma, don’t talk about her—you—that way.”

  She stalked over to the dresser in her bedroom, yanked out some of those clothes that had been left behind, and threw them at Pax. “If you love her so much, here’s what’s left. Take them home!”

  She knew that her anger was a way of protecting herself from her feelings and her confusion over Pax. And it was about that girl, too. Because she wasn’t dead, and that scared her.

  Why did he have to be so nice and great and disarming? Friggin’ fate. Maybe she could make him so angry that he’d stomp out and abort this even more stupid love affair that would probably shred them both.

  He lifted a lacy black top, and then, embarrassingly, a pair of bright-pink panties from his shoulder where they’d landed. Some of the other clothes had fallen to the floor. He picked up those, too, his expression not angry but sullen.

  “Gemma, I’m in love with all of you. Your past, your present. Even this slightly irrational part that wants to push me away. As much as you want to diss her, she and you are one. She was the sexy rebel part that you’ve disowned. You need to forgive her and bring her back into your psyche.” He took her hands and pressed the clothes into them. “I’m going to the hospital to see your dad, and then I’ll be at the track working on the bleachers. The construction crew is scheduled to arrive here in an hour or so to work on the flooring and trim. See you later.”

  She could only watch him leave, with nary a glance back. Then she looked at the clothes she was gripping. “I’m so stupid. Oh, my God, I am that girl—and not the fun parts. I’m the bad-judgment part!” She flung them to the floor and ran down the stairs to catch Pax.

  As soon as she stepped into the den, Trey called out, “Gemma’s got our pictures!” His enthusiastic puppy expression wilted. “Doesn’t she?”

  Pax’s truck drove past the entrance and out of the parking lot, and her tensed body deflated. He would probably tell her dad that his daughter was nuts. “I’m almost done. I just…needed another coffee.”

  Gary clapped. “We are so excited. You can help us choose which one to use on our wedding announcements.”

  “I’d be happy to.” She poured her coffee and went back upstairs. If she finished soon enough, she could catch Pax at the hospital. Maybe he’d decide that she wasn’t worth the trouble. That would be a good thing, right?

  She spent the next hour going through all the pictures, prettying up a few by adjusting shading and tone. The goal was to get the shot right with the camera, using photo-editing software as little as possible. After burning the pictures onto a disk, she took her laptop downstairs and spent another hour going over them with the guys. If she hadn’t been so tense, she would have cherished all the oohs and aahs.

  “Oh, my God, I love them,” Trey said. “Every one of them. You’re good.”

  She started to wave away the compliment, as she usually did. Instead, she said, “Thanks. But remember, you’re only looking at a fraction of the shots I took.”

  “I think the setting-sun one should go on the card, like Gemma suggested.”

  Trey nodded. “I love the hands, but you’re right; we need our faces on the card.”

  “Or,” Gemma said, “you can put them both on the front. There’s a lot of flexibility in cards.”

  “Great idea.” Gary pulled out a hundred-dollar bill and handed it to her. “Thank you so much.”

  “Thank you.” It felt good to do a job totally on her own. Once again, the allure of her dream taunted her, whispered in her ear. B&B wedding packages. Family reunion packages. “I’ll email you permission to use the photos in any way you’d like. Enjoy your day.”

  The construction crew had already started, and when she passed through the kitchen on her way out she could see it finally coming back together. How Pax had managed to talk them into working on a Sunday she didn’t know.

  Well, of course she knew. Pax just had a way about him.

  Chapter 13

  Pax was in a Green Day mood as he drove from the hospital to his parents’ house, so he cranked their Pandora station on his phone. And wasn’t it damned ironic that the first song was “Know Your Enemy.”

  He thought he had known the enemy—Gemma. Now he knew the truth.

  He couldn’t ignore it anymore. Blake had raped Gemma. And Pax was in love with her. Even if she was trying to drive him away for his own good.

  How did he get her to stay? By making Blake confess. Considering the coward that his brother was, Pax doubted that would happen. But keeping Gemma in town was only part of what made him want Blake to come clean. She needed it in order to heal. To feel validated by those who judged her. And those other women he’d violated, they needed it, too. He needed to stop Blake, for Lily and all of them.

  He drove down the road to the big, two-story house. It was marsh and mangroves and woods all along the way. As a kid, he’d forged trails all through them, and he and Janey had reopened them in recent years. He’d taught her to identify snakes, bugs, and birds. She could ID a birdcall now, and make a good guess as to what critter rustled through the bushes.

  He knocked before opening the door, as he always did, even if his mother did tell him he could come right in.

  “Morning,” Pax greeted his parents as he stepped into the kitchen. Well, it wasn’t much as greetings go. Especially taking in the coolness of their expressions. “I brought Blake’s truck back. Is he up yet?”

  His father, in uniform, placed the lid on his to-go cup. “He drove your mother’s car home, trying to make amends with his wife.” He paused near Pax on the way to the door. “You keep seeing that girl and you will be disowned.”

  “Are you all right with protecting him, letting him continue to take advantage of women?”

  “He’s not assaulting women, never has.”

  “And that’s because you decided it? Because you refuse to see that makes it untrue?”

  His father narrowed his eyes. “You’ve never been one of us. You did everything you could to separate yourself. Now you point your finger at your brother, who has never gotten in trouble in his life. I had to blackmail you into straightening up and becoming a cop, and you hated every minute of it. You sided with a suspect. Then you quit out of some jack-assed sense of righteousness.” His mouth curled into a cold sneer. “You aren’t my son.”

  With that, he stalked out, slamming the door to the garage. The words hurt, like tiny knives stuck in Pax’s soul. But the wounds had been there his whole life. Along with the question that haunted him.

  He turned to his mother. “He’s right, isn’t he? I’m not his son, biological
ly speaking.”

  Her face went ashen as she set her coffee mug down with a thunk. “Of course you are.”

  “I look nothing like him. Or Blake. And I don’t look a lot like you, either.” Gemma’s casual observation punched him in the chest. “It was Hank, wasn’t it? Holy shit, that summer he started hanging out here wasn’t the first time you and he…“He couldn’t even say the words.

  She clamped her arms in front of her. “Don’t be ridiculous. I never did anything with Hank.”

  Pax sank into one of the chairs, his hand over his mouth as his mind whirled. He tried to recall Hank’s features. Well, they were similar to Raleigh’s. Which were similar to his own. “Dad knew. Or, at least, suspected. I thought he resented me because I was nothing like him. But just now, when he said I wasn’t his son—he meant it.”

  His mother lowered herself to the chair next to his. “He’s just an angry man. Always has been. He didn’t mean it.”

  “And Hank was a happy-go-lucky guy. He probably made you laugh. Gave you the attention and affection you weren’t getting from Dad. And I bet having an affair let you feel in control for once. It makes sense.” He grasped her hands in his, holding her gaze. “I need to know why my father never really accepted me. No judgments.”

  She didn’t confess, but she broke down, burying her face against her arm. He pulled her close. “It’s all right. I understand.”

  He understood more than her infidelity. All the hurt and rejection he’d suffered suddenly made sense. It hadn’t been him at all, only that his father saw his very existence as a betrayal.

  “Is Mama okay?” Janey came into the kitchen and wrapped herself over their mother’s back.

  If she’d heard their conversation, she clearly hadn’t made sense of it. Good. He didn’t want to confuse her with their different paternities. At least his Janey Bear wouldn’t reject him.

  His mother sat up and wiped her face. “I’m all right. It’s been very…difficult, with Pax bringing up painful things from the past.”

  “Don’t blame Pax, Mama. Blake did it.” Janey took a deep breath as her mother backed away, shock on her face. “I think he did hurt Gemma.”