No Falling Allowed (No Kissing Allowed)

by Melissa West

  “Okay. I’ve heard enough.”

  My eyes flashed up. “I’m sorry?”

  Annalise sat back in her chair. “You remind me a lot of a young woman I once knew.” At my questioning stare, she added, “Me. I was in your very place many years ago, and I remember my parents’ disappointment when I told them I wanted to open Perfectly with some of my inheritance. They said no, and I had to do it all on my own, but eventually they were happy for me. Your parents will be happy, too. Give them time.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Trust me, I’ve seen everything, and the one thing I’ve learned is that every mess can be fixed. With events and with people. Now, here are the specifics of the job.” She placed a formal offer letter before me, and my eyes travelled over it, excitement moving through me until I reached the salary.

  “So the salary is…” I pointed at the amount on the letter, and she smiled again. She was definitely a smiler, and I wondered if everyone at Perfectly offered one so willingly. I could get used to smiling.

  “That is your base salary. The majority of your income will come from commissions. For the first month, I would advance you a higher salary, and as your commissions roll in—and trust me, they will—you will pay back the advance.”

  My lungs finally released the breath they’d been holding. “Okay, so, do you mind my asking what a typical associate makes?” I was nervous to ask the question, but I needed to know. If Annalise was only going to pay me thirty thousand a year, I’d have to reconsider my love for her.

  She shrugged. “It varies, but I would say the lowest makes around sixty thousand. She’s newer, though, and the more experienced make upward of one hundred thousand.”

  “One hundred thousand, really?”

  Annalise flashed her winning grin. “Just wait. You are going to love working here. And if you’re on board, we’ll leave for Cricket Creek tomorrow.”

  “Cricket Creek?”

  “That Southern wedding we discussed this weekend. It’s in Cricket Creek, a small town that has more character than a Jane Austen novel.”

  I tried to remember where I’d heard the name before, from a friend, or perhaps at the Met, but came up empty. Finally, I tucked it away, sure it was something I’d read or heard in passing, nothing more.

  Annalise leaned forward then, that bright smile in place. “So, are you joining our team?”

  I beamed back, excitement bubbling up inside me. “Where do I sign?”

  …

  That night, I lay in bed and ran a hand across my sheets, wondering how long before my dad had me evicted, if he would truly go that far. Worry seeped through my skin, quickly becoming a headache, until I closed my eyes, drew a breath, then two, and without conscious thought or sense, I was back to that night.

  My hands went to my bare legs, and I ran my fingers across them, reenacting Hunter’s touch, each move slow and deliberate.

  “Where do you like it?” he’d whispered against my stomach, before slowly blowing a cool breath against my skin, then pressing his lips to the space above my navel. “Here?” he asked, as he ran his tongue up the center of my abdomen, then pressed another hot kiss beneath my left breast. “Or here?” His hand dipped down, sliding between my legs, and, losing all control, I rose to his touch, eager for more. There. On my stomach. My breasts. My neck. I wanted him all over me, everywhere, coating me in his kisses and that breath that felt less like air and more like security and comfort.

  By that point, we’d reached for each other enough that we could go slower, explore all the things the other wanted, craved.

  “I want it all,” I had said.

  At that, he pushed himself up and stared down at me, his strong arms flexed, exposing muscles that seemed cut by hard work more than hours at the gym. “What do you mean by ‘it all’? Tonight…or after tonight?”

  There was a hint of something in his voice—like he wanted me to say I wanted more, wanted to see him again, and yet feared asking. But the truth was I had no idea what I wanted with Hunter, or what I could expect. He was leaving, I was staying. Where could this story go?

  “Tonight.”

  He relaxed, reached for my hand, and kissed each of my fingers. “What about for your life? Do you want it all?”

  I glanced at my ceiling, with the tiny crack forming in the far corner that would have Dad yelling at someone to repair it. “I want a career. I want a family. So yeah, I guess as a woman that’s me wanting it all.”

  “But here? You’d raise a family here?”

  I drew back in offense. “I can’t imagine raising my kids anywhere else. I’ll never live anywhere else. Never.”

  He laid down beside me then and rested his hands behind his head, deep in thought. “I guess that’s how I feel about Cricket Creek. It’s a part of me now, the good and the bad. In my very bones.”

  Suddenly my eyes popped open and I jerked up in bed. I didn’t know when I’d fallen asleep, but I was wide-awake now.

  Because I knew why Cricket Creek had settled so uncomfortably in my mind when Annalise had mentioned it, why I felt a drop in my stomach and yearned for something that would never come.

  Hunter the Ditcher was from Cricket Creek.

  Oh my God. Oh my God! In less than twenty-four hours I would be in the same town as the guy who’d single-handedly rocked my world…and then shattered my pride.

  I tossed aside my covers—my alarm showed it was three a.m., but I no longer felt tired. Oh no, I felt rage. Red, hot rage.

  Get ready, Hunter…you’re about to endure the wrath of Grace Soaring.

  Chapter Ten

  Noah

  “And how does that feel, Jonah?” Doc Patterson asked as he checked Jonah’s wrist, watching for a reaction, while I stood far too close.

  “Are you in pain?” I asked, taking a step closer, until Jonah’s pleading eyes met mine and I stopped, took a step back, and tucked my hands into my pockets to give me something to do.

  The problem was I still saw Jonah as a toddler, all skin and bones and not much else, so now it was hard to let him be big. I tried. Or at least I faked like I tried. I wanted him to be tough, wanted to raise him the way Dad would have raised him. The way he raised me. But in the depths of my brain, behind all the clutter and confusion, lay the memory of him crying in the hospital. I never wanted to hear that sound again.

  Doc Patterson adjusted his glasses and turned his bald head toward me. He’d been my pediatrician, too, but back then he had more hair. And evidently more patience. “Enough of this,” he said. “He’s fine. It’s a break. It happens. You don’t need to walk yourselves in here every other day or week to have it checked like his arm might fall off. Got it?” His hand was on his hip now, and all I could do was nod.

  “All right, but he was—”

  “Shh, shh, shh.” He waved a hand through the air in a gesture that looked like a move his wife Sally had used on him too many times so it stuck and became his own. “I’ll see him back here in four weeks unless it’s bleeding. Or infection is pouring out of it. Or the thing actually does fall off. Understand?”

  I opened my mouth, and he shot me a look that said he’d wake my father from the dead to come yell at me if I didn’t shut the hell up. “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. Any other questions?”

  At that, Jonah stirred where he sat on the patient table, causing the crinkly paper to pierce the silence. “I do, Doc.” We both turned on him, waiting. “Well, see, little league starts up again in a few weeks, and I was wondering if I’ll be able to play?”

  My heart landed in my stomach at Doc’s expression.

  “Likely not this year, son, unless you can add on late. Hate to re-injure it.”

  Jonah’s face fell, and I immediately stepped in. “Would you be willing to write a note for him to join the team and sit on the bench until you sign off on him to play?”

  “Well…”

  “He’s been on the same team for three years now. They’re a family. Don’t deprive the k
id his family.” I knew that was a low blow, but hell, a man’s got to do what he’s got to do.

  Doc considered Jonah, then the fractured wrist. “Okay, but I’ll be having a word with Coach Drum just to be safe.”

  “That’s fair,” Jonah and I said at the same time, grinning at each other like we’d just scored tickets to the World Series.

  “All right, then, get on out of here. I’m told the New Yorkers are arriving today, so we’re closing up early.” He motioned for the door and Jonah popped off the table and headed toward it, me on his heels, as Doc Patterson all but pushed us toward the door and outside. And that was when we saw it.

  A limo.

  Followed by a black town car. No, two town cars. And a pink van with Perfectly Wedded in black across the side, two wedding rings joined through the letters. Each vehicle drove so fast down Miller Street that I wondered if they’d get a ticket before they’d officially made it to meet Mary Beth, but then I spotted Sheriff Blackson across the street, staring, as mesmerized as we were.

  Doc Patterson settled in beside me, his hand back to his hip. “I guess this means they’re here.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Grace

  All right, I could do this. I would do this. So what if he ditched me without so much as a good-bye? So what if he hadn’t left a note? Dear Grace, I’m sorry, had a wonderful, amazing, life-changing time, but my father has fallen off a cliff, and I’m an only child so I have to leave you to go save him. It’s an emergency, life or death, the only thing in the world that could pull me away from you.

  But no.

  There was no hand-over-heart reason that would make me sigh and adore him all the more. He just left. Me. Normally I ended these things—kissed their cheek and said good-bye. No one walked out on me, yet he had, and the strangest thing of all was that I wasn’t sure if I was angry at him for leaving, or myself for wishing so very badly that he had stayed.

  I closed my eyes and shook my head to clear my thoughts, then I felt someone’s hand on my arm. “Grace? Are you okay?”

  My eyes fell on Annalise, who looked back at me with concern. “Me?” I smiled, released a small laugh, and put on that Soaring unaffected face I had inherited from the best. “Of course.”

  “Okay. You just seemed a little quiet on the plane. And then the ride over. I wanted to make sure you weren’t feeling unwell.”

  I smiled again. “Oh, no. I’m fine. Truly. I’ve had a mild headache today, but nothing more. I’m sure it will go away soon.”

  “A headache? You should have said something.” And then I watched as Annalise opened her Louis Vuitton bag and pulled out a pink and black planner with tabs and compartments, but instead of a basic calendar inside, each tab contained a different necessity—needle and thread, bandages, mints. She finally reached the one for medicine and pulled out two Ibuprofen. “Here you go.”

  “Wow. That’s…”

  It was her turn to smile. “I have one on order for you. I had it specially designed by Erin Condren for me. It’s been a lifesaver on more occasions than I can count.” She reached for a bottle of water from one of the cup holders in the limo and handed it over to me.

  “Thank you.” I took the pills, less because I had a true headache and more because I felt sure I’d have one before I made it through the day. Of course, maybe I wouldn’t even see him. Maybe Cricket Creek was a huge town and—

  Who was I kidding? We’d passed maybe three traffic lights, and as far as I could tell, there was one long strip of town and nothing else, like something out of one of those Hallmark Channel movies my mother always fell in love with around Christmas. And now we were parked outside a restaurant. Or maybe a bar. I couldn’t be sure, and there was no sign for said bar or restaurant. At least, not one I could see.

  “Are we having lunch here?” I asked, trying to gain some semblance of control over myself.

  “Here? No. This is the where they’re having the wedding.”

  I choked on my water before I could help it. “H-ere?”

  Annalise flashed me a knowing look. “Just wait until you see the gazebo. Now let’s go. Mary Beth and Lindy are waiting for us inside.” She patted my hand and opened her door to get out, leaving me momentarily alone.

  I drew a breath to try to calm my nerves. So what if I saw him? I could handle it, and truthfully, right now I needed to focus on impressing Annalise, Mary Beth, and Lindy. My hands were as full as imaginable. There was no time to worry over guys who didn’t feel like sticking around.

  An old cut in my heart deepened, all those feelings of inadequacy I’d endured my entire life bubbling up, but I needed to focus. To remember that I was Grace Soaring, master of faking poise when I felt like a shell of a person on the inside.

  “Okay, you can do this.” I quickly patted my lips with my fingertips to make sure my lip-gloss wasn’t all over my face, grabbed my purse, and stepped out of the limo. I met up with Annalise and allowed myself a moment to scope out the place.

  A wide porch stretched across the front of the building, and several rocking chairs were situated there. It was constructed of stained cedar, with a red tin roof. I noticed a small sign out of view that was sure to give the name of the establishment, so at least signage was a thing here, but before I could get a good look at it, two women stepped outside and onto the front porch.

  “Annalise! It’s such a pleasure to see you again.”

  Annalise beamed as she started toward them, her arms out to give the eldest of the two a hug, then lightly kiss her cheek. “It’s been too long.” She pulled away and motioned to me. “Mary Beth, please meet Grace Soaring. She’ll be assisting me on the wedding.”

  “It’s so nice to meet you,” I said, offering a hand, but Mary Beth guffawed.

  “It’s the South, honey. We don’t shake hands, we hug.” She pulled me close, and my eyes widened before her warm vanilla and fresh cotton scent hit me, a smell so motherly I couldn’t keep myself from closing my eyes and squeezing her back. My mother had kissed my cheek a thousand times, had patted my back, and smiled in my direction, but she had never hugged me like this stranger was hugging me.

  “We’re so thrilled you’re here. This is my daughter, Lindy—the bride.” She grinned so brightly at her daughter, so full of pride, that for a moment I just stared between them, before catching myself and smiling over at Lindy.

  “You must be so excited.”

  Her own face lit. “I am.” Her long, strawberry blond hair was pinned back on one side, the rest flowing over the opposite side in perfect, natural waves. Her skin was ivory except for the occasional freckle across her nose. She was petite, and cute in a Campbell’s soup commercial kind of way, and I found myself liking her already.

  “Come on, let’s go on in. We have a table by the windows so you can see the gazebo.”

  “Lovely,” Annalise said, before following after Mary Beth.

  Lindy waited back with me. “I’m so glad you’re here. They’ve been out-numbering me for months now. Every idea I have, they grimace and explain to me why it’s horrible, though they don’t use those words of course. It’s all, ‘Do you really think…’ Blah, blah, blah. You should have seen their faces when I said I wanted to get married in the gazebo. You’d have thought I said I wanted to get married in a swamp!”

  I tried to repress my first reply, which was that they were right to react that way. After planning weddings at the Met, attending weddings at the Plaza, the Waldorf, even Central Park, and the Botanical Gardens, it was hard to see how someone would choose here of all places.

  But instead of saying any of that, I went for reassuring. “I’m sure it will be amazing.”

  “I hope so. To be honest, I would have married Dane anywhere. A courthouse, whatever. I just want to be his wife.” She opened the door for me, and I stepped inside.

  “That’s so—” But before I could finish, my gaze travelled from Lindy to the inside of the restaurant/bar/whatever to the man standing directly across from me, fixed
in place, his eyes wide, the same scruff that I’d ran my fingers over on his jaw, completing the royal déjà vu screwfest I’d just walked in to.

  I drew a breath that refused to reach my lungs and tried to fight back the surge of emotions working through me—sadness, anger, excitement. So much excitement. Because if I were honest, all the angry thoughts and wounded pride aside, more than anything I wanted to rush up to him and hug him, purely for the simple fact that him being here, in front of me, meant he wasn’t some weird figment of my imagination. No, he was real. And as rugged and gorgeous as ever.

  He wore a simple white T-shirt with a red logo that stretched across his broad chest and low-hung, relaxed jeans. It looked like he’d rolled out of bed and threw on the first thing he’d seen, and like that outfit had been made especially for him. Good God, no wonder he’d made it back to my apartment.

  He took a single step toward me and then stopped, his eyes still locked on mine, like he wasn’t sure what to do, wasn’t sure I was real. Maybe he’d questioned if it had all been a dream, too. “City?”

  Lindy glanced slowly from me to him. “Do you know Noah?”

  “Noah?” WTF? I thought his name was Hunter? So even that had been a lie, just like all those things he’d said to me that night about enjoying my company, how he’d never met a girl like me—such bullshit. I managed to swallow, to breathe, and then before I lost any hope of self-control, I forced my attention away from him and back to Lindy. “No. I can’t say I do.”

  She glanced back to Hunter—or Noah—or whatever his real name might be. Damn ditching name-maker-upper. “Okay…”

  But I could tell by her expression that she didn’t believe me, and suddenly I worried that I was creating town gossip on my very first day in Cricket Creek. “I mean, I don’t know him, know him. We met at an event in New York a couple of weeks or so ago.”

  “Noah went to an event in New York? That seems so unlike him,” she said, glancing to the ditcher as we walked toward her mom and Annalise.