Falling Free ( Falling Fast #3)

by Tina Wainscott

He saw the spark in her eyes, the mini-battle over whether to give in or be respectable. Respectable won, and she cleared her throat and slid to the side.

  “We should probably get back to car shopping.”

  “Because we’re having too much fun?”

  She drew up her legs and hugged them close. “Hmm.”

  “When was the last time you had fun?”

  “With you at the bar here.”

  The answer filled his chest like a helium balloon. He’d done that, on her shittiest day. “How about before that?”

  She seemed to give that some thought. “You know, I can’t remember.”

  “You said you sometimes came here to let loose.”

  She rested her cheek on her arm, propped on her knee. “Yeah, I had fun when I came here and danced and had a few drinks. But it didn’t feel good, if you know what I mean.”

  He scooted closer, mirroring her pose. “I do. It’s why I haven’t gone to a bar to hook up in a long time. Fun in the moment, forgettable afterward.” Then he realized how that sounded. “If we had gone back to Harvey that night, it would not have been forgettable.”

  “You’re just saying that because you stuck your foot in your mouth.”

  “Nope. The thing is, Grace, we didn’t even have sex, and I couldn’t get you off my mind. I kept thinking about your sassiness, your smile, your amazing laugh. Yeah, your hot bod, too, but it was more than that. I have fun, but it’s all about drifting. Hanging out with the guys, controlled chaos, winning. But I haven’t had fun, haven’t just laughed and felt so comfortable with a woman the way I have with you since, well, I can’t even remember.”

  There. He’d thrown it out there, the truth he didn’t know what to do with.

  She patted his arm. “Thanks for saying that.”

  “Whoa, you think I’m laying platitudes on you?”

  “Does it sound sincere? Absolutely. Can I trust my assessment? Absolutely not. But I appreciate the sentiment, I do.”

  Whoever this client was had really fucked her over, and no amount of convincing was going to change her mind. He fell back on the sand, his hands laced behind his head, and stared into the bright-blue sky. It would probably be better for her to think he was a player. Dismiss him. And, when it was time, let him go. Because he didn’t know how to stay.

  “You’re right, I’m doing all this because I want to get you into bed.” He had to push out the words. “You fascinate me because you’re not falling under my spell.”

  She hovered over him, blocking the sun. “Damn.”

  “Damn?”

  “I can’t tell which version was the truth. They both sound…I don’t know, off.” She dropped down beside him, covering her eyes with her arm. “I’m useless. I’ve lost all discernment.”

  He felt her pain. He’d spotted many a liar over the years, recognized many a false promise, a shallow platitude. Without the ability to distinguish that, he’d be lost, too. He sat up, hungrily taking her in. Her tank top was pulled up with her arm, revealing a slice of creamy tummy. He quickly averted his gaze when she lowered her arm and looked at him. He thought she’d caught him and was going to call him on it.

  “Lie to me some more,” she said instead.

  “Say what?”

  “Test me. Change it up a bit, so I don’t catch on. You know, like, don’t tell a lie and then a truth and then a lie and then…well, you get it. Those last two statements were too emotionally charged for me, I guess. I mean, either you would have forgotten me if we’d slept together or you wouldn’t have. One would hurt and one would make me feel way too special. So let’s table that one. Oh, and you have to be totally honest about whether it’s true or false.”

  “Grace, I don’t want to lie—”

  She gripped his upper arms, leaning close. “You keep saying you want to help me. If that’s true, then you’ll lie to me.”

  He rocked his head back and laughed. “Do you know how crazy that sounds?”

  “Maybe. But that’s where I am right now, just south of crazy city limits.” Then she implored him with the look that twisted right into his heart. “I need your help.”

  She needed him. And not in the way his sister had needed his money for drugs. Or the way his mother had needed him to shut up and go to his room so that she could “entertain” her friend.

  “I think you looked sexy as hell in the tiny car.”

  “Ha. Okay, that’s easy. Lie.”

  “Wrong. Well, maybe more like cute as hell.”

  “Doubtful.”

  “True. And you definitely looked all-out sexy in the Mustang.”

  She considered that. “Maybe an exaggeration. A little sexy.” She indicated a small space between her fingers and her thumb.

  “A lot sexy.”

  She gave him her skeptical look. “Tell me something about yourself.”

  He loved her enthusiasm. It was much better than her doubts and her sadness. “My nickname when I first started drifting was the King of Drift.”

  “Hmm. Well, given that you’d just started drifting, I doubt you’d be king already.”

  “Bingo. See, you still have it. I was called the Prince of Drift, though.”

  “But that actually had nothing to do with trusting my gut. I used logic. I need to trust something I have no evidence for. Give me something like that.”

  He rubbed his beard, trying to think of something else. She wouldn’t want to hear I’m crazy about you. “Let me work on it. It’s like those pickup lines. I’m not used to coming up with lies.”

  “Can you just sprinkle them throughout the rest of our day?”

  “I’ll do my best.” He had to admit, promising to lie was a first for him. And, hopefully, a last.

  Chapter 7

  They spent the balance of the afternoon checking out the other car lots in PCB. Grace had to admit that she’d already made up her mind. She tried to justify not telling Tanner by reasoning that he would insist that she test-drive more vehicles anyway. Truthfully, she was enjoying being with him, and experiencing different cars, well, that was fun, too. Trucks, SUVs, sporty convertibles—she got into the spirit of trying various styles of cars, along with the personalities that went with them. Tanner made it fun by sound-tracking each experience with jazz, classic rock, alternative rock, even salsa.

  She noticed that he put on mellow rock, aka boring music, whenever she drove something practical.

  “You’re too young and interesting to drive a car like this,” he said when she protested.

  She felt young with Tanner. Not that thirty-three was old by any means, but she felt old. As though she’d worked for decades. Centuries. Right then she was young and happy and carefree. Amazing, considering that she was car shopping. And spending time with a man who had her in knots.

  She pulled back into the car lot in a 1981 Trans Am that was badly in need of new seats and shocks. The stereo, however, rocked, with a Bad Company song pounding through Primo speakers.

  “I once owned a Pinto,” he said. “It was the best drifting car I ever had, until it exploded.”

  She studied his face. “Lie.”

  “Yep. On both accounts.”

  He hopped out and ran around to her side so that he could open her door. She knew that he’d extend his hand, and that she’d take it and let him help her out. She liked it, especially when she came to her feet and ended up inches in front of him. The last several times, her body had swayed toward him. She hoped he hadn’t noticed.

  “Well, what did you think of the TA?” Tanner asked.

  “I’ve been driving a late-model car for years now. I want something new and shiny.” Only then did she hear what she’d said, and realized that she’d been taking in Tanner. And he’d caught her.

  In a low, deliberate voice, he said, “Then I think you should choose something new and shiny.”

  “Well, what do you think of the car?” the big-bellied salesman called as he waddled over.

  “It ran great,” she said. “But I
’m afraid it’s just not me. Thank you, though.”

  She and Tanner walked back to Birdie—the T-bird.

  He leaned against the front quarter panel. “So, Miss Grace, which car is you?”

  She didn’t want to admit it. “It was a tough choice.”

  “And?”

  “I think I’m going to go with the mmmph.”

  He craned his head toward her. “The what?”

  “The mmphag.”

  “Grace, you have never once mumbled in my presence. Spit it out.”

  “I want the youngsexyhotMustang,” she said in one breath.

  What she really wanted was the youngsexyhotTanner. The want thrummed through her body, electrified her nerve endings.

  “Ah, I knew it!”

  “And that’s why I didn’t want to say it!”

  He wrapped his arms around her and spun her around. “I saw it on your face when you drove it. It made you feel alive.”

  She hoped he couldn’t see the same thing when she looked at him, especially in the circle of his arms. “All right, Mr. Know-it-all. But now we’ll have to face that salesman who we kind of freaked out. And who thinks we’re pregnant with triplets who will be scarred with terrible names.”

  “They may be closed; it’s nearly eight o’clock.”

  She glanced up to see the waning light of the sky. “How did that happen? It was only lunchtime a couple of hours ago.”

  “Try five hours ago. And we had a late lunch, remember?”

  “I lost track of time.”

  “What do they say? Time flies when—”

  “You’re having fun,” she finished on his cue. “It has been fun. Thanks for coming. And for pushing me out of my box.”

  “My pleasure.” He let that word settle, light and soft as a feather, as his blue eyes held hers.

  Maybe she could believe that, too.

  “Sorry to break you two lovebirds up, but I gotta lock up the lot,” the salesman said.

  She stepped back. “Oh, we’re not…Fine, we’re outta here.” Last time Tanner had stopped her from correcting the salesman. So what if a stranger thought they were lovers?

  Tanner had let her drive after lunch, citing the beer he’d had. She had a feeling he’d just relented on letting her feel in control. Which was nice, considering he was in control over the rest of the shopping process.

  Once they were back in the T-bird and on their way to the lot with the Mustang, she said, “People keep thinking we’re an item.”

  “Yeah, funny, that.”

  Of course, she’d probably been looking at him like some love-struck teenager! She was not struck by love. Couldn’t be. Panic clawed up her throat, squeezed her chest. Like when they’d played the lying game the first time they met, and she told him she loved him.

  Oh, yeah, Tanner was a man a woman could easily fall for. Then have her heart ripped out as though it were tied to his bumper as he hightailed it out of town.

  “Uh-oh, we’ve lost the smile.” He leaned on the console, studying her. “Tell me what you’re thinking right now.”

  “That the car dealership’s going to be closed and I’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

  “Lie.”

  “Hey, I said nothing about you gauging my statements.”

  “I’m still calling you on it.”

  “Okay, I’m worried that someone bought the car.”

  He leaned even closer. “Lie. We saw a bunch of Mustangs today. If it’s sold, we’ll find another one.”

  “What if I don’t find one as sweet as that one, though?” She had to resist touching his cheek, because then he’d know she wasn’t talking about the car.

  Except he was too damned perceptive. “Are we actually talking about the car, Grace?” he asked in a soft, low voice.

  “Of course. What else would I be talking about?” She pasted on the same kind of ingenuous look he often gave her.

  He settled back in his seat again, rubbing at the silky hairs on his chin. “I confess, I’m no expert on women. But you, Grace, are spinning me like a dust devil.”

  “Back atcha.”

  The lot was, indeed, closed. The car, however, was still sitting there in all its copper glory.

  “You don’t have to worry your pretty little self over it being gone anymore.” His smug smile indicated that he didn’t believe for a second that was what had stolen her smile.

  Fine. She wasn’t owning it, in any case. “I’m terribly relieved. And hungry.” She slid him a look. “Were you serious about going dancing?”

  “You bet. Anything you want, milady.”

  “Is this how you’re going to treat me when I’m your princess?”

  She watched for telltale panic. It was one thing to play at this on their first meeting. But now?

  He grinned. “Even better.”

  She felt the same tickle in her tummy that she’d experienced while driving the Mustang. “Let’s go to the Beach Shack.”

  It seemed strange, coming back with Tanner, as they walked through the open doorway a short while later. She was in a much better place now than she’d been last time. It was a lot livelier now, too. Saturday night, and people who’d been hanging out on the beach all day filled more than half the tables.

  Grace and Tanner found a table near the dance floor and ordered a large basket of wings. Despite her earlier admonition, she ordered a tequila shot. “Just one,” she said at his surprised expression.

  “Southern Comfort and Coca-Cola for me,” he told the female server. When she left, he said, “I’m glad you’re feeling comfortable enough to know that I wouldn’t take advantage of you.”

  She laughed. “I was never worried about that. It’s more about me taking advantage of you.”

  “Just to clarify, I’m perfectly fine with that.”

  “And that’s the problem. You’re delicious, and you’ve let me know that you’re all too willing to let me devour you. No, the real problem is that I’m all too willing—at least, a decadent part of me is. But the other parts would hate me when you’re long gone. And, honestly, I just can’t handle the thought of that at this point in my life.”

  He took her hand, sliding his fingers over her palm and contemplating that for several seconds. Finally, he met her eyes. “I never want you to feel like that girl who mistook sex for love. This is just about dancing. Fun.”

  “That would be nice. You know, I can’t remember the last time I went to a bar with a guy to dance. Coming here on my own would be a whole different story. I have to be on guard all the time.”

  “Heh, I’ve seen that.”

  She smiled. “I suppose you have. Dancing elevates the game. I don’t know if it’s the same for guys, but dancing seems to signal that it’s okay for a stranger to touch places that would be totally inappropriate otherwise. Or grind his pelvis into mine while grabbing my ass. Or stare down at my cleavage. I love dancing, but a woman who dances by herself sends another type of message. At least the times I’ve seen one dance. She’s usually beyond drunk and horny.”

  “Yeah, I’ve seen that. And no, I’ve never been one of those snakes who slither out to take advantage. It can be the same for guys, when a woman’s drunk and a wee bit desperate. Had a woman lick my chest once, just leaned forward and ran her tongue right down to my open collar.” He pulled a face and a shudder racked his shoulders.

  “Eww! I can’t imagine doing that.”

  He slid his fingers between hers. “So we shake on it. No licking or ass-grabbing or pelvis-smashing. Unless you want to. Kidding. I want you to relax and have fun. Let loose, but know you’re safe with me.”

  She shook his hand. “I’d like that. A lot.”

  The server brought their drinks, and Grace reluctantly freed her hand from his because they’d once again look like lovebirds if they just sat there linked together.

  “I’ll have a Guinness, too,” she said to the petite brunette. “One shot will be plenty.”

  After the girl had gone, Tanner lifted
his glass. “Here’s to falling free…with a safe place to land.”

  “Cheers,” she said, but his words coiled around her heart. She tossed back the shot, blinking at the sassy combination of salty and tart.

  He took a sip of his whiskey and leaned forward on his elbows. “Sounds like it’s been a while since you dated someone. Really dated, I mean.”

  “Not since my third year of college.”

  “Must have gone pretty badly if it’s been that long.”

  She shook her head. You have no idea. And you won’t, either. “I’ve just been busy. First with finishing college, then working at a law firm and starting my own because I don’t like working for other people.”

  He pinned her with a look that said her words were dinging on the bullshit detector.

  “It’s true,” she tried.

  “Maybe, but it’s more than that.” He took her hand again, tracing circles on her palm as he held her gaze. “Talk to your friend Tanner. Tell me your woes, your dreams. Your heartbreaks.”

  She’d never had a friend whose bones she wanted to jump. “Why would you want to know about some stupid college romance?”

  “I want to know everything about you. And I have a feeling you’ve never really had people to confide in.”

  She wouldn’t tell him everything. “You’re right. I learned starting in middle school that I couldn’t trust so-called girlfriends. I’d tell them something and the next day everyone would know. Which garnered me a reputation, one I only deserved a little. Sure, I’d kissed a boy, but by the time it went around school I’d done a lot more, and with two or three boys. Guys I relate to a lot better, because they’re usually up-front. They have nothing to gain by trashing you. The problem is that either they get ideas about the benefits of friendship or they start dating a woman who’s not all that keen on her guy having a female friend.”

  “Damn, it’s complicated being a woman. Glad I’m a guy. Relationships seem a lot simpler.”

  “Because guys don’t go deep. Everything’s on the surface.” She watched the hand he was caressing. “Except for you. You’re pretty damned compelling yourself.”

  “Why, thank you. But don’t think that’s going to get you out of telling me about this ‘stupid college romance.’ ”