No Falling Allowed (No Kissing Allowed)

by Melissa West

  “That’s not what I said. I just meant that—”

  The front door opened unexpectedly and a woman appeared, dressed in a tank top and tiny shorts, “Hey, Hunter, I’m here if you want to—” She stopped at the sight of me and glanced over at Noah. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you had company.”

  “I don’t. We were just leaving.”

  I shook my head, anger taking over. Never in my life had I met someone so stubborn, so unwilling to listen. “And if I’m not ready to leave?” How dare he invite me here and then all but order me to leave because he couldn’t handle a little twenty-twenty on his life choices.

  “Too bad.”

  He walked over and pecked the girl on the cheek in a hello, sending my blood boiling with ridiculous jealousy that I had no right to feel. “Sorry for the dishes, Jess, but I’m already running late. An extra twenty to clean up?”

  “No problem.”

  I stared at Noah, but he refused to turn around. It took all my self-control not to yell at him to stop, to listen so I could explain, but I wouldn’t do that in front of Jonah.

  “And you’re good to get him into bed?” Noah asked, still ignoring me.

  “This isn’t my first rodeo.”

  He grinned back. “Don’t I know it. One of these days you’re going to find a real job and I’ll be screwed.” Then he patted Jonah on the head. “I’ve gotta check in for an hour or two. Will you be okay with Jess?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And homework’s done?”

  “I did it before practice.”

  “Great.” Noah leaned down to hug him, then waved to Jess and motioned for me to follow him. “Ready?”

  Was he seriously forcing me to leave? All over a couple of comments? “I guess I have no choice.”

  “I guess you don’t.” He walked out the door, leaving me staring after him. I said good-bye to Jonah, and then followed after his brother, unsure what had happened, but I planned to find out.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Noah

  “Want me to drop you at the B&B or somewhere else?”

  I knew my tone sounded this shade of jackass, but I didn’t care. I was pissed. Beyond pissed. Who the hell did she think she was to suggest I needed more than this life? That I was just some immature jerk who was biding his time until he could push his brother aside and do whatever the hell he wanted. I might have been that asshole when I was younger, but I was a man now, and I took my responsibilities like a man.

  “Why don’t you pull over?” she asked, her arms crossed, her demeanor as icy as mine.

  “What?” We were halfway down the long stretch of back road that led to town, a million stars shining overhead, tempting me to forget everything she’d said and pull her into my arms to see if her lips felt as warm as I remembered. But again, I wasn’t that guy anymore.

  “Pull over.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re going to tell me why the hell you’re so angry right now. Clearly I said something that hit a nerve, so tell me, and we can move on.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “Right, obviously. That’s why you’re acting like a petulant child right now. All because of nothing.”

  I jerked the Jeep to the side of the road and slammed to a stop, pitching us both forward. “Don’t do that. Don’t act like I’m the same as every other immature twenty-something you’ve run across. I’m not.”

  “I know that.”

  “Do you? ’Cause seems if you did, you wouldn’t sit in my kitchen, with my brother in earshot, and suggest I want more for my life than to take care of him.”

  All the heat in her face fizzled out. “I didn’t mean to do that. I wasn’t thinking that he could hear me.”

  “It doesn’t even matter if he couldn’t. This is my life, Grace. I’m not spending every waking moment praying it’ll end soon. It’s my life, and I’ve accepted it. Sure, I get frustrated sometimes, and sure, I want for the occasional break. But I will never allow that little boy to think he’s a bother to me. And I won’t have anyone in my world who makes him feel that way, either.”

  “Noah…I didn’t mean to…” She shook her head and stared out the windshield before glancing back at me, a new sincerity on her face. “You’re right. My life is just different. To me, a person our age goes to school, then pursues a career, and when Jonah told me you built your house, and drew the plans yourself, it just spoke to me. I saw all the intricate details you put into it and thought someone else would easily pay you to do the same for them. But if that’s not what you want, then it doesn’t matter. And besides, why does it have to be one or the other? Why can’t you raise Jonah and have a career?”

  I pointed at the clock, aggravated all over again. Because the truth was there in her explanation—it didn’t matter if my life was enough for me. It would never be enough for her. “I do have a career, and I’m running late for it. So B&B or what?”

  “Where are you going?”

  “The bar. We have a band playing tonight, and I like to be there to make sure everything goes like it should. And I’m ten minutes late now, so if you could just tell me where I need to drop you.”

  She crossed her arms again and stared out the passenger-side window. “Hunter’s Place, please.”

  My anger grew by the second. Never had I met such a frustrating person, and while a part of me thought that sass of hers was hot as hell, the other part wanted her out of my Jeep as soon as possible, before I popped off and said something I didn’t mean. Or worse, took out my frustration on that kissable mouth of hers. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Going to see the band.”

  “You can’t. I need to…” Get away from you so my brain can function again.

  “What? Am I no longer welcome at your bar now, either?”

  “No, I just—”

  “What?” she spit out. “What is so wrong with me?”

  I thought my head might explode. “Are you joking? You’re beautiful and funny and smart and perfect, and it’s fucking exhausting trying not to notice these things when I’m around you. There’s nothing wrong with you. That’s the problem!”

  Here I was doing my best to keep from pulling her to me and reminding her how great we’d been together, why all our differences didn’t matter. Why she could be fancy and I could be rugged and we could still make it work, because holy hell did a giant piece of me ever want to try. And Grace thought she was the problem?

  “So let me get this straight.” There was a smile in her voice now that worried me even more than her anger. “You’re not mad that I said the wrong thing at your house, which I am sorry about. Truly. You’re mad that you…like me?”

  I sputtered. “No.”

  “You like me.”

  Ah, hell. “I don’t.”

  “You do, just admit it, and then once you’ve finished doing that, you can take me to the bar.”

  “You are frustrating as hell.”

  She cocked her head and smirked. “Yeah, maybe, but you still like me.”

  I grumbled a “whatever” as I pulled into the bar, the place already packed thanks to Scarlett pimping the event on social media.

  “Wow, big band?”

  “It’s a popular local band. Does lots of covers. Blackhawk Crow?” At her blank stare, I added, “They’re country. You might like them.”

  I opened the bar door to a surge of people shouting, “Hunter!”

  “You going to be okay in this crowd on your own?” I asked her.

  “Please. I’m a New Yorker. This is nothing.”

  “All right, big bad New Yorker. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Then, before I did something stupid like ask her to join me behind the bar, I walked off to check in with the band. Several people stopped me on the way, complete with handshakes and pecks on the cheek, before I finally reached the small stage we’d set up earlier in the day.

  “Hunter, good to see you, man.” I clasped hands with the lead singer, Chuck,
and nodded to the rest of the band.

  “Got us a crowd tonight,” I said, eyeing the packed bar, not an empty seat in the place.

  “We’ve got a few surprises in store,” Chuck said. “Should be fun.”

  “All right, I’ll let you get to it. Give me a yell if you need anything. Anything at all.”

  “I’ll take Scarlett’s number,” Eric, the drummer, called.

  I grinned wide at him. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

  “One day she’s going to give in.”

  “Whatever you say, bro.” Then I waved and headed to the bar, the crowd so thick it was hard to make it to the back. I jumped onto the bar top and slid over it to the other side. A round of catcalls met me when I landed.

  “Take it off, Hunter!”

  I laughed, the tension in my spine easing as I settled into a groove. “Nah, now, you know that was just the one time. Damn Johnson spilled a pitcher on me.” It had been busy that night, too, and a friend had been helping me behind the bar. Needless to say, three spilled drinks and an entire pitcher of iced-cold beer on me, and he was relieved of his duties.

  “I’ll spill a pitcher on you,” a blonde to my left said, but instead of making eye contact with her, my gaze locked on Grace, three stools down with a pack of guys already around her.

  My jaw clenched tight. “Can I get you something?” I called to her.

  Grace spun on her barstool, a triumphant smile on her face. “I’ll take a round of tequila shots for my friends and me.” She gestured to the guys, and I narrowed my eyes at her.

  “Shots,” I echoed.

  “That’s what I said.”

  “And I heard you.”

  She leaned forward, and one of the tiny straps of her dress fell off her shoulder, drawing my attention to her silky skin. My fingers itched to trail down her neck, to slowly return the strap to its rightful place. Or to do the opposite and tug it all the way off—along with the rest of her clothes.

  And now I needed a cold shower.

  “So what’s the problem?” she asked.

  I mirrored her, leaning on the bar, my brain short-circuiting as I closed the distance between us. Her sweet, floral scent hit me, and I had to repress the urge to groan. Instead, I whispered into her ear, “What are you doing?”

  Grace tilted her head toward me, her lips a breath from mine. “I think it’s pretty obvious what I’m doing. The question is what are you doing?” Her gaze flicked down to my mouth. A second passed, and I nearly lost it right there, all sense of responsibility out the window, when Chuck’s voice boomed out over the crowd and brought me back to reality. I pulled away to face him—and okay, to give my brain a minute to remember how to function.

  “Hey, hey. We’re Blackhawk Crow, and we’re super excited to be here.” The bar went nuts, clapping and calling out to them. Blackhawk Crow had played here a half dozen times and always drew a huge crowd.

  They started their first number, a Sam Hunt cover, and I wasn’t surprised when one of the guys beside Grace reached for her hand. “Let’s dance.”

  She peered over at me, but I had no right to say anything so I just shrugged. Anger flashed in her eyes, before she corrected, and she hopped off her barstool. “Sounds great.”

  The dude looked like he’d just won the freaking lottery, and hell, by the irrational thoughts hitting my mind, all dangerously close to jealousy, maybe he had.

  “Why didn’t you say no?” Scarlett asked from beside me.

  “Because it’s not my business.”

  I crossed my arms and watched Grace laugh at something the guy said, and suddenly I wondered who this punk was and what the hell he was doing in my town with my girl.

  Shit.

  Scarlett stepped in front of me then, earning a fresh scowl. “You think I’m afraid of that face? I’m not. Especially when I know it’s only going to get worse after you hear what I have to say next.”

  “Which is why I don’t plan to stand here and listen to it.”

  “Noah, stop. Look, you like this girl. Whether you choose to admit it or not, you do. Everyone can see that. And she likes you, too. What’s the problem?”

  I half listened to an order, making the drink without any real awareness of what I was doing. I’d been bartending for long enough that I could claim I didn’t need to pay attention to get a drink right, but this was more than that. I couldn’t pay attention because, while my eyes were on the person in front of me, every other sense and nerve and thought in my body was attuned to the girl in the middle of the crowd, swaying with some dude who didn’t have the slightest clue who he had in his arms. Because if he did, if he knew at all, there was no way he’d ever let her leave. What sensible guy would let a girl like her walk away?

  “The problem is me.”

  “So, admitting the problem is six-tenths of the solution or whatever, right? Now go for it.”

  I guffawed. “Go for it? Just walk over there and step in. I own this place, I can’t just go around making an ass of myself.”

  “Sure you can,” another voice piped up, and I spun around to find Lindy and Dane. Fantastic. “Now go.”

  I watched Grace edge closer to the guy, her arms around his neck as Chuck slowed to a new song, a song she had mentioned to me in the Jeep, and as her eyes met mine through the crowd, I knew this was my chance. I had no idea where this thing of ours might go, but if I was going to take a step, this song was that step.

  The slow, syrupy sound of “Tennessee Whiskey” filled the air, and I drew a long breath, released it slowly, and walked out from behind the bar, my body moving of its own accord, too connected to this person who’d invaded my world. Her eyes held mine, and each step became easier, more sure, until finally I stood beside her.

  “Care if I cut in?”

  Her partner pulled back to look at me, and I thought he might argue, but Grace said, “Sure.”

  I stepped up to her, our bodies inches apart. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  “Me either. We’re so different,” she said. “Want different things. Live in different cities. And still…”

  “I can’t stay away.”

  As though my words mirrored her thoughts, Grace tilted her head up and took a step toward me, that sexy confidence of hers returning. I bet she’d had every guy she ever wanted, and while I’d had my share of women, I’d never had one like this.

  In one move, I gripped her hips and tugged her to me, our bodies swaying together before either of us had consciously decided to dance.

  “I do like you,” I admitted.

  “I know.”

  “Damn, let a man feel like he’s got a little game.”

  “Oh, you’ve got game. Take a peek around the bar.” She cocked her head toward the tables, all full. “Every pair of female eyes is on you. They never leave you. Everywhere you go, they look.” She lowered her voice, a hint at that self-conscious girl showing below the confident woman. “Every place you go, I look.”

  I licked my lips and brushed her hair off her shoulders. “We’re very different, you and me.”

  “In a lot of ways, we are. But in some ways, I think we’re very similar.”

  I considered her. “You’re leaving after Lindy’s wedding.”

  Doubt crossed her face before she glanced to our left, spotted someone or something, and the hint of hesitation disappeared. “You know, Lindy told me about her father, about your parents. I’ve spent my entire life doing exactly what I was told, when I was told. I have never deviated, but in some ways, I feel like by following a plan, I’ve never lived.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “We’re not guaranteed any time, Noah. Why worry about the end? Let’s worry about the beginning.”

  The band finished up “Tennessee Whiskey,” and everyone in the bar was well on their way to feeling the drinks in their hands. “What are you doing next Friday?” I asked.

  “My best friend’s wedding. I’m renting a car and driving out there for the rehearsal and then
the wedding on Saturday.”

  I drew a breath and released it slowly, enjoying the way she edged nearer and nearer to me, like she couldn’t get close enough. “Or…I could drive you instead.”

  The smile that stretched across her face made me wish we were alone so I could explore all the ways I could make it reappear. “You’re offering to go to her wedding with me?”

  I stilled. “Um, didn’t really think that through, now did I? I meant that I would drive you, then wait for you in the hotel room, where I’ll happily allow you to take advantage of me whenever you like. You know, as a stress reliever.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Let me drive you, and you can find out.”

  She considered me for a long moment, and I thought she might say no, but instead she said, “Okay, on one condition.”

  I pressed a kiss to her neck. “Does it involve sex toys? Because I could get behind that.”

  She laughed loudly, and my pathetic heart surged. God, what am I doing to myself?

  “Tempting. But I was thinking you could come to the wedding with me. You don’t even have to wear a suit. They won’t care.”

  “Hey, now, you’re not the only one with nice things. I own a suit.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes. Several, in fact.” I coughed. “I’ve just never worn any of them.”

  “Well.” She rose onto her toes and gently kissed my cheek, my jawline, like she too couldn’t resist whatever this thing was between us. “Would you put one on and go to the wedding with me? It’s in Alabama, and her family’s super sweet. Oh, and Southern! Just like you.”

  I grinned. “We’re not a cult, you know? We like people from other regions.” At her pointed stare, I relented. “Fine, we hate everybody else.”

  “So you’ll go?”

  The tension in her voice, with her body pressed so firmly against mine, won out, and I glanced into her eyes briefly before pressing my lips to hers. I intended to take a quick taste, a bite before dinner, nothing more, but the attraction between us had a mind of its own. Sparks and tingles and shit I’d never felt in my life zipped through me, and before I could worry about where we were or who was watching, I slid my tongue over her lips and dipped inside her mouth, enjoying her in a way I’d been too stupid to attempt that night. That night had been a thrill with an expiration date, but this? This was the start of something I might never recover from, but I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t at least try.