Fall For You: A Reverse Grump Romantic Comedy (A Season's Detour, Book 2)

by Hayleigh Sol

  “Bailey, you look gorgeous. My brother’s eyes are gonna pop out of his head when he sees you.” At my deliberately blank expression, she gave me a scoffing tsk. “I already know you two are an item. I’d like to point out that I totally called it, by the way.”

  “Well, I don’t know if I’d call us an ‘item’, but we’re‌…‌enjoying spending time together.”

  She rolled her eyes at me. “You make it sound like you’re retirees. Although, once he gets a load of you in this dress, he’s probably gonna ogle you like a dirty old man.”

  I had to laugh at her eyebrow waggle. “Thank you‌—‌I think‌—‌for the compliment, but you know it was your wedding that inspired my costume idea.” I parked her on the closed lid of the toilet, pulled up the website images we needed for reference, and went to work on her makeup.

  Her lips twitched as she fought a smile that would interrupt the white base I was smearing all over her face. “I know, this getting married thing has unforeseen benefits. When else would I be able to dress up as a zombie bride with her undead groom?”

  “True. You mention wedding‌–‌themed Halloween couples costumes to most single guys, they’re gonna wig out.”

  “Like you wouldn’t do the same.” She laughed more freely now that I’d moved on to applying dark shadow under her eyes. “Oo, if things work out between you and my stinky brother, we could be sisters. How fun would that be?”

  “Uhh, let’s not get ahead of ourselves here.”

  She huffed out a breath. “C’mon, Oscar, I know you’re against the institution on principle, but marriage isn’t so scary when you meet the right guy.”

  Ah, but I thought I had met the right guy before.

  Although, Aaron’s wishy‌–‌washiness should’ve clued me in far earlier than it had that he wasn’t exactly my soulmate.

  Not that I believed in soulmates any more than I believed in the one.

  “Do you really not see yourself ever getting married? Or having a long‌–‌term relationship again?”

  “Shh, if you keep talking, I’m gonna mess up the stitches on your cheek.”

  Her lips flattened and she gave me a squinty side‌–‌eye.

  I sighed, understanding she was watching out for her brother. “Look, I’m going to tell you what I told Garrett. The idea of permanently attaching myself to someone, of blindly trusting any promises he makes, that doesn’t seem like something I’ll ever do. But, we’ve agreed to spend naked time with only each other for however long this‌…‌thing is still good. And, when it ends, that’ll be that.”

  She scowled at me.

  “Come on, Trace, this is a big deal for me. I know your brother’s a better man than the guys I usually date. I swear I’ll do my best not to hurt him.”

  And I won’t allow him to hurt me.

  “I guess that’s good enough. For now.” Her smile softened the words. “I’m just glad you’re giving him a chance, you being two of my favorite people and all.” The gleam in her eyes turned crafty. “I still say you’ll end up falling for him. His awesomeness can sneak up on you.”

  It already has.

  “Let’s talk about your awesomeness. You look creepy as hell.” I turned her around to face the mirror and she was just as delighted with the final look as I was. She texted Noah to join us so I could give him the same zombie treatment.

  When he saw his fiancée, he grinned. “You look badass, babe. Totally ghoulish.” Tracie ate up the compliment.

  “So you’d still marry me if I looked like this?”

  “In a heartbeat.”

  I nudged Noah’s shoulder. “Alright, enough with the sappy stuff, you two. Sit your butt down so we can make you as horrifying as your bride.”

  Noah laughed and obeyed my command. Tracie stayed, chatting with both of us as she watched the transformation. They were both pleased when I gave him a row of sutures that matched hers. It was hard not to get swept up in their mushy cuteness. Even for an old curmudgeon like me.

  We traipsed downstairs, where Kevin and Ashley were debating the merits of the Lord of the Rings books versus the movies. When Garrett spotted me, he didn’t have that speechless, dropped‌–‌jaw response that always seemed so phony to me in movies. I mean, come on, it’s not like the chick looks that different than the last time you saw her, dude.

  Garrett’s wolfish appraisal of me from top to bottom was a far better reaction. Especially as his lips tilted up in a downright filthy smile.

  He met me at the base of the stairs as Noah and Tracie’s costumes were admired by the Tolkien fans.

  “I can’t decide if I’d rather savor you in small sips or one long swallow.”

  Sweet mother of panty‌–‌melting innuendo.

  Meeting his hungry gaze, I matched his flirtatious smile with one of my own. “You guessed my costume correctly. Well done, you.”

  “Hard not to. Since it seems like we had the same idea.” He stepped back and spread his arms.

  My head tilted. Not because I couldn’t figure his costume out, but because I was admiring the detail. To a brown shirt, he’d added darker spray paint in a recognizable pattern and‌—‌I confirmed my guess by pushing on one of his shoulders‌—‌shoulder pads to his already broad shoulders. He’d also managed to give the impression of handwriting on his chest, where he’d also attached a pen.

  “Oh my God, that is so clever, you guys.” Tracie’s exclamation from across the kitchen drew everyone else’s attention. “You planned that, right? I love it.”

  We joined the group and Kevin’s brow was furrowed. “I don’t get it. What am I missing?”

  Noah patted him on the shoulder. “They’re a champagne toast. Like, at a wedding. That’s really cool, you guys.”

  “Technically, I was going for the best‌–‌man toast but, yeah, I guess we do go together.” Garrett’s fingers interlaced with mine.

  A visual every single person in the room caught. Except, possibly, Kevin. Tracie’s self‌–‌satisfied half‌–‌smile and Noah’s raised eyebrows and chuckle were making me twitchy.

  Not to mention the fact that Garrett and I had unintentionally come up with a pretty cool couples‌–‌costume idea.

  I mean, on an actual couple, it’d be cool.

  “We should head out, yeah?” At my suggestion, Tracie’s grin deepened. Which was super menacing in her zombie makeup.

  That sense of foreboding was back and I struggled to shake it off as we headed outside to our waiting ride.

  Garrett and I won the couples‌–‌costume contest.

  Naturally.

  I was convinced Tracie had slipped either the judges or the emcee a bribe when we weren’t looking. I was even more convinced my friend was behind some shady dealings when she and Noah tied for Gruesomest Ghoul.

  Imagining Simone’s visible cringe over the use of “gruesomest”‌—‌“I swear, the day ‘funnest’ ends up in the dictionary, I’m moving to a non‌–‌English speaking country; or, at least to one where they speak it better than we do”‌—‌entertained me for a moment or two.

  Until Garrett leaned over and spoke into my ear. “See? We’re good together without even trying.”

  He didn’t know how hard I was trying. To keep it together.

  If I had to hear from one more random stranger how adorable or clever our couples costume was, I was either going to punch them in the face or yank Garrett’s toast shirt off and fling it aside. The latter would normally be a yummy prospect. But‌—‌

  Is this what a panic attack feels like?

  “Hey, let’s dance. I wanna see you shake your ass in that dress.”

  He made me laugh as I followed him through the crowd; the man was, without doubt, my bootie’s biggest fan. I probably wasn’t having a panic attack. But the insta‌–‌couple pressure I was getting from multiple fronts was definitely making me anxious.

  I let the music move through me, impressed by Garrett’s skills. Well, I was impressed when I wasn’t cracking
up at his stanky leg and floss moves. He even threw in an old‌–‌school cabbage patch that had me doubled over in laughter. Then I one‌–‌upped him with my running man.

  After completing the requisite bachelor and bachelorette scavenger hunts‌—‌do a body shot, tell the bartender a walks‌–‌into‌–‌a‌–‌bar joke, get marriage advice from three different couples, and so on‌—‌everyone in our group had more than a good buzz on.

  The short skirt of my gold‌–‌sequined dress, originally purchased for a New Year’s Eve party a few years back, didn’t allow for much movement. As bodies pressed in around us, I was glad I’d vetoed balloons as the bubbles in my bubbly; instead, I’d attached a few gold plastic Christmas ornaments to my wrists. Unfortunately for Garrett, the shimmery gold powder I’d dusted on my face and chest transferred to him. He looked like someone had glitter‌–‌bombed his toast.

  When I commented on it, he laughed and tugged me closer. The DJ was playing a slow jam from my college years and Garrett swayed us back and forth, softly singing some of the words in my ear. The sensation in my chest was like running into someone who’d once been a close friend but you’d lost touch with over the years. I told myself I’d indulge in the bittersweetness for just this one dance.

  The slow song rolled into another. I kept my head on Garrett’s shoulder and my arms wrapped around his neck. Two slow dances would be okay.

  We left the dance floor when the tempo picked up and made our way to the bar. Tracie and Noah were leaning heavily against each other, ready to call it a night. Sitting next to Garrett on the hired drive home as he held my hand, I had the thought that it had been a perfect day. Even dredging up all that had gone down with Aaron hadn’t been so terrible. Sharing with the man beside me had released some of the knot that formed in my chest whenever I thought about my ex.

  So why did I tell Garrett I was tired when we got back to the house, leaving him to sleep in his room and me in mine? I couldn’t explain it. Shied away from trying.

  And I forcibly shoved down the wretched guilt I felt at the disappointment in his beautiful glacier eyes.

  Chapter 22

  A week had passed since Halloween and life had returned to normal, my brush with the high life of private jets and fancy beach houses all but forgotten. Tracie’s bridal shower was coming up and I’d been busy helping plan the event in a way that kept her future mother‌–‌in‌–‌law involved without allowing the woman to take over.

  She still seemed disappointed I’d nixed her idea to turn the shower into a sex‌–‌toy party and I promised Tracie I’d keep an eye out for her gift to the bride. Which I’d “find” under a table or in another room once the other guests had left.

  Garrett was busy, too. There were tux fittings for the guys, but he was mostly juggling the demands of multiple restaurants. He still tried to get together a few times during the week. I’d found reasons to put him off.

  It had been relatively easy for me to keep some space between us on the plane ride home from Martha’s Vineyard, citing a need to go over marketing plans for my app launch with Noah. The work needed to be done, true, but much of what we discussed could’ve been accomplished over email. Noah was a good sport about it and patiently answered all my questions. Even the ones covered in previous conversations with the marketing team he’d assigned me.

  In spite of my concerted efforts to ignore him, I was aware of every one of Garrett’s movements, whether it was him getting up to use the restroom or pulling out his own laptop to get some work done. I wondered if he was dreaming up new menu items. Once I’d exhausted Noah‌—‌and myself‌—‌with social marketing talk, I moved to a couch and feigned sleep for the remainder of the flight.

  Throughout the week, I’d been a good texter and Garrett hadn’t seemed suspicious. Telling myself that I was merely establishing healthy boundaries for our exclusive non‌–‌relationship relationship, I figured we’d see each other when it was convenient for both of us. Nothing spelled couple like spending too many weeknights with a man.

  Garrett: Alright, I checked with my sis and there’s no major wedding catastrophe for you to mediate this weekend. Can I see you tonight? I miss your sweet cheeks.

  Me: Depends. To which cheeks are you referring?

  Garrett: The ones on your face, of course. Why? What were you thinking? ;)

  Garrett: Actually, that’s a lie. I miss all the cheeks. I even miss your cheekiness.

  I laughed aloud. I’d missed him, too.

  Me: That’s the right answer. Sleepover at your place tonight? I’ll bring the granny jammies.

  Garrett: Please tell me you have granny jammies. Wait, don’t. I want to be surprised.

  When I’d started studying fashion design, I’d soon discovered I didn’t love designing my own clothing. Too much could go wrong. Also, after my mother, I wasn’t fond of being judged‌—‌by my classmates, professors, potentially by celebrity judges on tv‌—‌and critiqued for my creations.

  Not for me, thanks. Instead, I left the design work up to the pros and learned how to seek out the best patterns and styles for myself and, later, my clients. Every once in a while, I dabbled, but making outfits had never been much fun for me.

  With one exception. There was something about lingerie, mostly negligees, that I loved. Even the pieces with tricky elements that posed the greatest challenge. Not that designing a slip dress in satin and lace was anything close to the nightmare of designing a bra.

  I packed an overnight bag and slipped a couple of my favorite silky chemise creations inside, planning to make my choice based on the vibe later. With the types of flings I’d limited myself to the past decade, my designs were usually seen by my eyes only. A man had to earn sexy lingerie.

  Wait ‘til Garrett gets a load of my “granny jammies”.

  How long had it been since I’d packed an overnight bag to stay with a man? Even previous overnighters with this particular man had been unplanned. It was surreal to remind myself to grab my toothbrush and toothpaste, floss, shampoo and conditioner, body wash, lotion, makeup remover, moisturizer‌—‌

  Wait, why the hell am I going to his place instead of having him come here?

  Men probably packed a tenth of what women did for sleepovers. If they bothered to bring anything at all. That used to drive me bonkers about Aaron. Before we lived together, he’d stay at my place and use my toothbrush every time. Don’t get me wrong, the dude had his tongue in my mouth and his bat in my catcher’s mitt enough that sharing a toothbrush didn’t gross me out as it did some people.

  But he forgot to bring his own stuff every time?

  Let’s try not to think about the ex before spending an evening with another man, hmm?

  Garrett had said he’d make dinner, but I knew he’d had a long week and offered my services as sous‌–‌chef. After his flattering remarks on the apple pie I’d finally relented and allowed him to taste the previous weekend, I was confident enough that he wasn’t the stereotypical critical chef. Compliments from someone who cooked like he did had me preening like a peacock. And tonight, instead of telling me how to improve my knife technique, he asked if he could show me a couple of tricks.

  “Are you saying my vegetable chopping leaves something to be desired?” I raised an eyebrow, daring him to answer.

  “Hell, no. I’m just trying to impress a pretty lady.” He took the proffered knife and went to town on a few cloves of garlic. “Showing off in the most shameless way, really.” He winked and handed the knife back.

  I looked at the pile of minced garlic in front of me, then back at his smiling face. “How am I supposed to learn if you do it all yourself?”

  Like the quintessential romantic hero, he stepped in behind me, put his big hand over mine on the knife, and demonstrated various techniques I immediately forgot the moment his hard body separated itself from my backside. It was almost a relief when he returned to the stove. Almost.

  After dinner, we lounged on his sofa with a movie we
’d both seen before. Stretching out without getting naked first wasn’t something we’d done before and I was feeling simultaneously cozy and hyperaware of him. The hand he placed on my hip was comfortable, until he squeezed me there, reminding me of how much he liked to do the same during sexy naked times. Shifting restlessly pushed my ass into his pelvis, which made him reflexively push back. It didn’t take long for the after‌–‌dinner entertainment to shift away from the movie.

  “Welp, I’m awake now.” I walked into Garrett’s bedroom from the bathroom after performing my nightly routine. He’d finished his own ten minutes earlier and was already back in bed, though propped up against his treasured headboard rather than asleep as I’d anticipated.

  “Jeez, lady. If you’re getting in bed wearing that, I think I’m awake now, too.”

  I’d chosen the teal chemise, trimmed in black eyelash lace. Evidently, Garrett was a fan. “This old thing?” I batted my lashes at him as I peeled back the covers on my side of the bed.

  “I can’t decide where to look first. You know I’m rather fond of your booty, but your legs, your chest‌…‌” His eyes darted to every part of my anatomy he’d named. And others he hadn’t. The raw masculine appreciation in those blue irises was awesome. He looked thunderstruck, which, in light of our mutual appreciation of AC/DC, tickled me. “That nightgown should be illegal.”

  With a compliment that sincere, he deserved a kiss. So I leaned over, displaying my cleavage to full advantage, and dropped a chaste one on his cheek. “Well, I hope you won’t have the designer arrested. You’d be pretty lonely if you did.”

  “Wait‌…‌ You made this?” Nodding, I smiled at him. “I had no idea you could make clothes, too. You should be selling your stuff in stores. Online. Everywhere.”

  If blushing were something I did, I would’ve been pink all over. “Nah, this is just for me. And you now, lucky boy.”