Fall With Me

by J. Lynn

  “Roxanne.”

  My eyes widened. Oh hell to the motherfucking no. Dumbfounded, I turned around slowly.

  Henry was right behind me. “I know you’re upset—­”

  “You’re so fucking observant.”

  He ignored that. “And you have every right to be upset.”

  Staring up at him, I knew I was going to do something stupid if I didn’t remove myself from this situation just as much as I knew those dark, plump clouds were going to break.

  “Leave me alone,” I said, tightening my hand on my tote as I pivoted around. I picked up my pace, skirting around a van.

  Lightning lit up the dark clouds overhead and the thunder cracked, so loud it rattled my chest. As another cloud flashed like a disco ball, I focused on counting the seconds between the streak of light and thunder.

  Then I saw my car.

  Better yet, I saw what was sitting next to my car. It was an old Mustang—­a cherry red muscle car straight out of the 70s. The vanity plate was familiar, too. It read BBRB, and I knew what that stood for, too.

  Bad Boys Are Better.

  Motherfucker, it was Henry’s car—­the same car he had in high school that he and his father had restored. The same car he and his friends used to roll around in to pick up girls, like something straight out of a cheesy movie.

  Henry got out of prison after destroying my best friend’s life and his fucking, stupid car—­his pride and joy—­had been waiting for him.

  “Please, just give me a few seconds. That’s all I’m asking.” Henry grabbed my arm.

  I lost it.

  Fury exploded inside me, like a lit match carelessly dropped on a puddle of gasoline. My brain clicked off and common sense did a swan dive off a building. I just wasn’t thinking, only feeling rage, so much so that it was like being outside of my body. I reached down into the tote bag, pulled the first substantial thing my fingers touched and I cocked my arm back like a pro pitcher in the MLB.

  The heavy, hardcover edition of New Moon flew through the air like a rock—­much like the rock that had destroyed lives—­and connected with the windshield of Henry’s Mustang.

  Glass shattered.

  Much like all our lives had shattered that night at the lake.

  Chapter 8

  I had a mean case of déjà vu.

  Kind of.

  Sitting inside my car, I stared through the rain-­drenched windshield—­totally intact windshield—­as Dennis finished up with Henry. Well, it wasn’t the just-­got-­married Dennis who often came into the bar. Right now he was Officer Dennis Hanner.

  Out of the hundred deputies that worked this county, it had to be someone who knew me. Of course. Because that was how life worked.

  Ugh.

  I didn’t know if Henry would’ve called the police on me for breaking his windshield, because he hadn’t gotten the chance to do so. Since I had impeccable timing, an elderly ­couple visiting someone had just gotten out of the car the very second New Moon broke the sound barrier and the windshield. Not only had they called the cops, but they’d also parked themselves in front of my car, like I would run off, until Officer Hanner showed up.

  Apparently, I’d hit the windshield at the right place. Or maybe it was the wrong spot. Since most glass was reinforced, I must have hit the one and only weak area. Or maybe I was really a mutant and could turn books into weapons of windshield destruction.

  Then it rained, all the while Dennis—­nope, Officer Hanner—­had glared at me like he wanted to pick me up by the ankles and shake some sense into me. I was soaked; so was he, even though he’d donned one of those plastic anti-­rain things.

  Both Henry and Officer Hanner turned to look at me.

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I rested my forehead against the steering wheel. I was such . . . such an idiot—­an impulsive, irresponsible idiot. What had I been thinking? I couldn’t even believe I’d done that. Granted, I had a hell of a temper. Got that from my mama, too, but I’d never committed an act of vandalism. Shame rode me hard, making my skin clammy and icky.

  How was what I’d done any different than what Henry had done? I mean, I didn’t hurt someone, but I lost my shit and I reacted in a way that was violent and stupid.

  Uncomfortable with that comparison, I felt a shudder shake my shoulders.

  The passenger car door opened suddenly, causing me to jerk back against the seat. Wild eyed, I watched Dennis slip into the seat next to me. My gaze bounced to the front of the car. Henry was gone. So was the Mustang. Reluctantly, I looked back at Dennis.

  He tugged off the hood of the plastic, yellow poncho. “What were you thinking, Roxy?”

  I opened my mouth.

  “Don’t answer that question,” he snapped, scrubbing his hand along his jaw. “I already know. You weren’t thinking a goddamn thing.”

  I snapped my mouth shut.

  “I cannot believe you. You of all ­people should know better than to do what you did.”

  Casting my gaze to the steering wheel, I pressed my lips together as I nodded. I did know better.

  “You’re so damn lucky,” he said. “Henry’s not pressing charges.”

  My gaze swung toward him. “What?”

  He shook his head as he flipped his stare to the window. “He decided not to press charges. Which is great, because I really don’t want to explain to Reece why I had to arrest you.”

  Oh God. Reece.

  “Or have to deal with your parents, who I’m sure would be hella proud of what you did,” he added, laying it on thick. But hell, I deserved it. “However, your ass is going to pay for that window to get fixed ASAP. You got it?”

  “Yes,” I replied immediately. “As soon as I know how much it costs, I’ll pay it.”

  A moment passed. “Henry’s going to get an estimate, and it’ll go through me. I think that’s for the best right now.”

  I agreed 100 percent.

  “Dennis, I’m . . . I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I was just so angry that he was there, and he grabbed my arm—­”

  “He said he grabbed your arm right before you threw the book,” he cut in. “By the way, I think that’s the first time I’ve seen a book take out a windshield, so thanks for that. But he didn’t make it sound like it was an aggressive move. And you didn’t bring it up when I first got here. Is there something I don’t know?”

  “It wasn’t an aggressive move. He wanted to talk. I didn’t.”

  “And that’s your right, Roxy. You don’t have to talk to him,” he agreed. “But you can’t damage his property.”

  “I know,” I whispered.

  Dennis sent me a long, sideways look. “I wasn’t around when that shit went down with Charlie. Hell, I didn’t even live in this state, but I’ve heard the details. I know what happened, and if it were my decision, the punk ass would still be sitting in jail. But it’s not my decision.” In the cramped seat, he twisted toward me. “And I get that it’s majorly fucked up that he’s out and he gets to come around here, but little girl, you’ve got to pull it together. You can’t do shit like this. It doesn’t help anyone, especially yourself.”

  I stared at him.

  “You feel me?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I feel you.”

  Needless to say, I was late for my shift, which sucked ass, because it also meant I wasn’t going to get the design done for a blogger before I left for work. It was going to be a long night, because I was going to have to finish it up when I got back home.

  Surprisingly, Jax hadn’t known about my very powerful throwing arm, but when I told him what I had done and he caught me by the hem of my WALKERS NEED LOVE TOO shirt and dragged me down the somewhat quiet hall, I knew I was in for Lecture Number Two of the night.

  “Girl, what in the hell were you thinking?” he demanded.

  “I wasn’t thinking
anything,” I told him. “That was the problem. I just got so pissed and stopped thinking.”

  He stared at me, brows raised. “That isn’t a good enough reason.”

  I almost jumped up and down out of frustration. “I know it’s not. Trust me. I totally know that. I’m going to pay for the damages.”

  “Roxy . . .”

  Ducking my chin, I folded my arms across my chest. All day I’d felt like crap for what I had done. It wasn’t a pitying type of feeling like crap. Oh no, it was the I’m-­such-­a-­fucker feeling like crap. I hadn’t felt this way since the last time I had to dodge my landlord when I was late on rent.

  Once again, I found myself wishing I could drink at work.

  “Well, there’s one thing at least.” He cuffed my chin, and I looked up. “You obviously got a hell of an arm.”

  I rolled my eyes as a dry laugh parted my lips. “That’s what happens when you grow up with two brothers.”

  “True. You tell your parents yet?”

  “No. I’m leaving that until tomorrow.”

  “Good luck with that.”

  “Thanks,” I moaned.

  Shaking his head, he gestured at the closed office door. “By the way, there’s something in there for you.”

  “There is?”

  His lips quirked. “Yeah, and after the day you’ve had, it’ll be a nice surprise. Check them out and get back behind the bar.”

  “Yes, sir!” I gave him a jaunty salute, which he promptly ignored.

  Since I’d been late getting in, I had gone straight to the bar, stowing my purse there, so I hadn’t stepped foot in the office. I opened the door and drew up short.

  “What the . . . ?” I murmured.

  There was no way Jax was talking about the flowers sitting on the desk. I looked around the small room. Nothing else stood out to me. The couch was there. The file cabinet. The bowl of possibly stale beer nuts.

  My eyes traveled back to the flowers.

  The roses were nice—­way over a dozen, bright crimson, and had just bloomed. The light scent wafted over me as I walked toward the desk. A square envelope poked out between the baby’s breath and green stems. My name was clearly written on it. Somewhere deep in my belly, there was a bunch of wiggling going on—­happy wiggling. I carefully plucked it up and opened it.

  Next time will be better.

  My brows inched up my forehead. Uh, what? I flipped the card over. No name. I turned it back over and read the message again. A slow smile tugged at the corner of my lips. It had to be from Reece. The message was kind of weird, but it had to be from him.

  I curled my fingers along the edges of the dainty card as I bit down on my lip. Reece was normally off on Fridays, or at least, that’s what I thought. It was hard to keep track of his schedule. He’d been in the bar on Wednesday, and we had talked, but he hadn’t mentioned the whole wanting to be more than friends thing, and I hadn’t brought it up either, because I didn’t know what to do with that.

  Well, I had plenty of ideas of what I could do with that. A lot of them involved getting naked and contorting our bodies into yoga-­type positions and such, but as cliché as it sounded, I didn’t know how to handle wanting something/someone for so long and then finally getting it.

  Maybe I could text him about the roses.

  Grinning like a complete doofus, I slipped the card into the back of my jeans and headed back out to the bar. There was a crowd waiting to get served, and poor Pearl was running back and forth as fast as her legs would carry her.

  Hours flew by before I even realized it or had a chance to pick up my phone and the crowd was finally thinning out a little. I took the precious downtime to gather my hair up into a quick ponytail and to grab a fresh Coke from the tap.

  When the door opened one more time, the scent of summer rain tickled my nose, and I glanced up and over.

  My heart flailed in my chest.

  Reece walked in, his brown hair plastered to his forehead, the ends curling. Tiny drips of rain cascading down his temple and onto his shirt. As he reached up and smoothed his large hand over his head, brushing those wet strands back, he reminded me of Poseidon rising from the ocean.

  Holy hotness.

  He looked over, and our gazes collided. Held. As he crossed the floor, walked around the bar and came behind it, toward me, he didn’t look away for one second.

  “Okay.” Nick stepped back before he got mowed over.

  My lungs constricted as Reece took my hand and then turned, walking out from behind the bar, tugging me along.

  “Nice to see you, too, Reece.” Jax shared a look with Reece and then nodded in Nick’s direction. “Don’t mind us. Take a break. We got it.”

  Normally, I would’ve protested, especially since sarcasm dripped from half of what Jax said, but the wiggling in my tummy was back in full force. It was like that somewhat scary show I watched as a kid—­The Wiggles.

  Someone—­was it Melvin?—­catcalled as Reece led me down the hall, and my cheeks flushed. “Okay, he-­man, I can walk all by my little self.”

  He cast a look over his shoulder at me as he opened the office door. “I’m sure you can.”

  Then he pulled me inside.

  My gaze flipped to the roses—­the roses!—­but before I could say a word, he closed the door and my back was pressed against it, his hands planted on either side of my head and his face right in mine. Like right there, within kissing distance.

  Wow.

  “So, I was at my father’s place in New Jersey most of the day, and you know, he lives out near the Pine Barrens, so ser­vice is shit.”

  I nodded even though I really wasn’t processing what he was saying as I was too busy staring at his mouth. Those lips, fuller on the bottom, drove me to distraction.

  “I pull out of his driveway and I have all these messages from Dennis,” he continued, and I finally caught on to what he was talking about. “I honestly thought he was messing with me at first.”

  I cringed. “He . . . um, he wasn’t.”

  He shot me a bland look. “That much I figured out.” His hands slid on the door, stopping just shy of touching my shoulders. “What did he do to you?”

  “What?” I blinked.

  “What did that bastard do to make you throw a book through his windshield?”

  Oh. Oh. My heart was now wiggling along with my stomach. “He really didn’t do anything. I just lost my cool. He wanted to talk to me, and I didn’t want to talk to him.”

  “You don’t have to talk to him.”

  “That’s what Dennis said, but I shouldn’t have damaged his car.”

  A muscle flexed along his right jaw. “That’s true.” He shook his head. “Damn, Roxy, can’t say I’m surprised.”

  My brows flew up. “You’re not?”

  He laughed under his breath. “Babe, you’ve always had a hell of a temper on you.”

  Ah, that was kind of true. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

  Reece cocked his head to the side. “A sexy thing, but vandalism and destruction of property doesn’t look good on you, sweets.”

  “No. It doesn’t match my manicure.” I raised my hands, flashing him the blue nails.

  He laughed again and then he sobered up, just like that. Cop Face was on, and yeah . . . the low coiling in my stomach told me I found Cop Face arousing. “You’re lucky. He could’ve pressed charges, and this conversation would be going in a whole different direction.”

  My own half smile slipped off my face. “I know. It’s . . . I was just with Charlie, and he’s . . .” Unable to continue, I forced a casual shrug I didn’t feel. “What are you going to do with me?”

  His lips parted as his chest rose with a deep breath, then his gaze dropped to my mouth, and his expression tightened. He looked . . . he looked hungry. “I have lots of ideas.”<
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  Warmth invaded me in the form of a slow burn. His thick lashes lifted, and I was lost in the depths of his blue eyes. My fingers itched to touch him like I had that night so long ago—­to sink my fingers into his damp hair, to smooth my hands over his hard chest and stomach. I bit down on my lip as he moved his left hand and caught a piece of hair that had slipped out of my ponytail. He smoothed it back, and a wave of tight, hot shivers coursed down my spine. In an unconscious, oddly instinctual move, my hips lifted off the door, moving closer to his. That did not go unnoticed by Reece, and I wondered, what would he do if I touched him now? Dragged my hand down his chest, under his shirt? Touched his bare flesh?

  God, just thinking about it almost made me moan.

  A half smile formed on his lips as the blue of his eyes deepened. “What are you thinking, Roxy?”

  Naughty, dirty thoughts I’d never share, so I said the first thing that came to mind. “Thank you for the roses.”

  He arched a brow as some of the heat faded from his stare. “I didn’t send you roses.”

  “Oh. Oh.” The moment between us was officially broken. “You didn’t?”

  Pushing off the door, he dropped his arms to his sides. “No.” His lips pursed as he turned sideways, eyeing the roses on the desk. “Those flowers?”

  “Yeah, those flowers. I thought they were from you.” I edged away from the door. “Are you sure you didn’t send them?”

  The look on his face basically said what a dumb question that was.

  “Well, this is awkward.” I shifted my weight from one foot to the next. “The card didn’t have a name on it, and I honestly don’t know who they’d be from.”

  He approached the flowers, running a finger over a dewy petal. “What did the card say?”

  “Um, something like it’ll be better next time.”

  Looking over his shoulder at me, he grinned. “I can see why you’d think it would be from me, but it wasn’t.”

  I wondered if he thought it would be weird if I grabbed the flowers and threw them out of the office. Okay. No more throwing stuff.