by B. Cranford
“Nice parking job,” I murmured against her lips, proud of her in a way I don’t think I could explain without sounding totally heartsick. So, just use your imagination, okay?
“I had a pretty amazing teacher,” she replied, tilting her head as she smiled at me, her eyes soft and light and happy. “He had this reward system that was so great for making sure I learned and learned well.”
“Oh, yeah? Tell me more about him. Handsome? Well hung?”
She rolled her eyes even as she laughed, pretending to swat my arm with her hand. I caught the offending hand instead and brought it up to my cheek. “Still don’t know what to do with those flailing hands, huh? That’s okay, you just leave it right here.”
The only warning sign I got from her was the tiniest hint of a smirk as she dropped her hand from my cheek to my . . . other cheek, giving it a swift pat, followed by a pinch.
“Ma’am,” I said, high-pitched and outraged in a successful attempt to make her laugh some more. I still loved that sound. “This is my place of business, and I’ll thank you not to accost me in such a way.”
“You love it when I accost you in any way,” she countered. To which I said absolutely nothing because she was right. I loved it, and I loved her.
Which she knew, even though we didn’t say it aloud. Some part of her was holding back, and even though I wanted to hear those words—and say them back—I wanted something else more.
For her to say them when she was ready because it wasn’t like I didn’t know she loved me. She told a million other ways, every day.
With a smile at that thought, I kissed her some more because did you see what I said about being unable to get enough? Hasn’t changed in the last handful of paragraphs.
When I was finally able, if not exactly willing, to relinquish her lips for a few seconds, I looked carefully at her face, searching for signs of fear. Nerves. A desire to cut and run. “You ready for tonight?”
She shook her head, then nodded. She was absolutely not ready to cross the last thing off her list—yes, it had taken us a few months, several orgasms (not that I’m complaining about that), and a few false starts, but we’d finally landed on the final item on her list.
Public speaking.
She’d been a non-stop, flailing machine of fear for over a week, since her friend Gale’s family had asked her to speak at a school event they were holding in her honor. I knew she could do it. I think even she knew she could do it.
But that didn’t make it easy.
“Lenny?” I prompted her when she didn’t say anything. “It’s going to be fine.”
“Fine, like fine arts and fine jewelry, or fine like the way Willa told me she was fine only for me to find out she’d married a stranger?”
“Definitely the first one. Still trying to process that second thing.”
“Hard same, dude.” She shuffled her feet a little, but since she was still trapped in my arms, it didn’t do much except make my body think she was suggesting we revisit the back seat of my car for some alone time. “I’m nervous.”
“I know. Want me to drive?”
She nodded, and I reluctantly let her go, sliding into the driver’s seat while she rounded the car to climb into the passenger side. “Want to practice what you’re going to say?” I asked once we were settled and pulling out of the parking lot, headed the three hours back to her old school.
“No, I might vomit. I’m just going to relax and will everything to be okay, okay?”
“Do you want me to talk about something else? Distract you?”
“Yes, please. Any last-minute extractions today? Finger sucks? Scary broken and bleeding teeth?”
“Honestly, to listen to you talk, you’d think all I do is rip people’s teeth out and terrorize them.”
“Dentists are famous for exactly that,” she replied seriously. “Can you blame me for being curious?”
I glanced over at her, just long enough to see the amusement on her face, happy to have gotten her to relax a little. “I did not extract any teeth today, and there was no blood.”
“What about sucking?”
I grinned because I knew she was setting me up, and I would not let her down. “Maybe later tonight, if things go well.”
“Nice.” Her hand landed on my thigh, resting there like it usually did whenever we drove anywhere together. I don’t know how or why it started, if it was a comfort move or what, but it was one of those things I come to love about her. Her need to be connected to me. “Good distraction.”
“Ah, but that wasn’t my distraction.” I chanced taking one hand off the steering wheel to lay it over hers, long enough to feel the warm softness of her skin but not long enough to give her any reason to be worried about our safety.
Just because she was driving now didn’t mean she didn’t still worry. She wouldn’t be my Lenny if she wasn’t still sometimes overly cautious.
“Oh?”
“Remember when I offered to help you move?” I started, knowing she did but wanting to ease into the next part of my question.
“Yes, of course.”
I cleared my throat as I continued, “I said I’d help you move here, and then into my place when the time came.”
She was quiet for a moment, the tires rolling over the interstate suddenly sounding so much louder now we weren’t speaking.
It’s not too soon anymore, I thought, willing her to agree with me. It’s been months.
“That’s an even better distraction,” she finally said, her hand tightening on my leg. “At least, it is if you’re saying what I think you’re saying.”
“That I want to help you move again into my place?”
She shifted about in her seat, leaning forward enough that I didn’t have to take my eyes completely off the road to see the grin on her face. “Yes.”
“Then yeah, that’s what I’m saying. How about it?”
“No, you misunderstood. I’m saying yes, I want to move in with you.” Her smile widened, and I regretted not having this talk with her somewhere I could—you guessed it—kiss her. “I’ve been wanting that. Only I was too anxious to bring it up.”
“You? Anxious?” I was teasing, having watched her take big and little steps as she challenged herself to do more and try more. “Noooo.”
“Jerk,” she retorted. “Just for that, I should say no.”
“Ha, but you just admitted you don’t want to, so my next question is when?” As tempting as it was to have her commit to moving immediately—as soon as we got back from this event, maybe after the sucking—I knew it wasn’t something that would be official overnight.
She was getting close to the end of her first year with the school, and it was going to keep her busy through June, at least. Longer, since she’d signed up to run some summer school programs. Besides, it wasn’t like we didn’t spend most nights together anyway.
But we did need to merge our stuff together since we both had things at the other’s place.
“I don’t know. When do you want me?” she asked, sounding surprisingly uncertain.
Pfft. “Now?” Literally, right that minute, I wanted her. “And always.”
She let out a soft sigh. “That was really sweet. Except for the part where you pfft’d at me.”
I hadn’t meant to do that. “Kneejerk reaction. How can you not know I want you always?”
“Sometimes a girl likes to be told.”
I pulled to a stop at a red light, taking the opportunity to look over at her. “If you agree to move in with me, I’ll tell you every single day.”
She leaned closer to me, bringing her face almost to mine, and whispered the same word she’d used the first time we’d talked about moving in together. “Deal.”
And then, because I couldn’t resist—and we’ve already established I can’t get enough—I closed the distance between us and kissed her.
Epilogue
Lenny
“Are you sure about this?” I asked him, staring at the wall
of boxes now in the entryway to his—our—house. Smiling when he draped an arm over my shoulder. Suppressing a giddy little giggle when he leaned over to kiss my temple.
Damn, I was head over heels for him.
The expression on his face could only be described as exasperated. “Challenger, I’ve been trying to cross this off your list for a year now.”
“You only asked, what, a couple of months ago? Besides, moving in with you was never even on my list.” I crossed my arms in mock protest, making a face at him. “The coaster, yes. Driving, definitely. Public speaking—let’s never talk about that again.”
“As I recall, the public speaking night was very memorable,” he interrupted.
“What am I forgetting?” I asked, forging on because although that night was memorable because he’d asked me to move in, it was also memorable for the stuttery, stammery job I did of speaking in public.
But hey, I did it, so there.
He tapped his finger on his chin. “Hmm, let’s see. Skinny dipping.” Eyes traveling down, then up my body, he gave me a decidedly wicked look. “Check. Sex in public. I think that was a check, but maybe we’d better do it again to be sure? How long’s it been since we visited our favorite rest area?”
Laughing, I reached out a hand to shove him but found myself caught and tangled into a tight, strong set of arms instead. “Do you know the one thing I never put on my list but should have?”
“Highway blow job?”
I humphed out a breath. “No. And that was checked off anyway. Remember spring break?”
“I will never forget spring break. So, no, I don’t know. What?”
“Falling in love with you,” I said quietly, nerves rising in me because although we were moving in together and were open about how much we cared for one another, about how crazy we were for one another, I’d never told him I loved him.
I’d always been stupidly afraid before, held back by my fear of falling apart, of feeling too much.
But finally, finally, I knew this was the right moment.
And he was the right man.
His body tensed against mine. “Yeah?” he breathed, “and did you rise to that challenge, sweetheart?”
“A long time ago, actually,” I confessed. “Turns out, it was easy.” I brought my hands up to cup his cheeks, closing the small distance between us—I’d learned to love my looming height because it meant I was closer to him—and planted a kiss on him that made his glasses fog up.
Hot.
Pulling back, I said, “I love you, Rowan Richard Roberts. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”
Watching his face, waiting for him to speak, felt like I’d just walked off a death-defying roller coaster and survived. Adrenaline pumped through my veins and made my heart race.
Then he smiled. And just like that first roller coaster, it made my knees weak and my legs shaky. In the best possible way.
“I love you too, Challenger. Always.”
Thank you for reading!
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If you’d like to listen to the original, shorter version of The Fear of Falling, you can do that exclusively on the Read Me Romance Podcast. Head HERE to listen!
And keep reading for a sneak peek at Mile High, the first book in my Mile High Duet, which is FREE on all major e-retailers!
Acknowledgments
AKA Beth tries to remember all the people that made this possible…
Charles, Annabelle, and Dominic—my loves. You interrupt me, and you drive me crazy, but—WOULD YOU GET DOWN FROM THERE, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD?!—I wouldn’t change you for all the world.
Jodi and Karen, thank you for your love and your support. For listening to me and helping me and believing in me.
Missy, I can’t put into words how much I appreciate you. Thank you for your eagle eyes and always being willing to help.
Eli, speaking of eagle eyes, thank you for the last minute proofread and validating my feelings about “affect” and “effect.”
My family back home in Australia, I miss you so much. We should’ve been together for this release, and it sucks that we aren’t. But soon, okay? When it’s safe to travel again.
Laurie, I love you. Your messages, surprise gifts, and awesome book recommendations are the best.
And everyone else who I’ve managed to forget because I suck at acknowledgments, thank you.
Mile High Sneak Peek
Chapter One - Bianca
I couldn’t stop tap, tap, tapping my passport against my hand. I knew it was a nervous habit, but I couldn’t help it.
I was nervous, after all. The decision to fly halfway around the world—during the busiest travel time of the year, no less—wasn’t one I’d made lightly.
An overhead announcement paged three people late to board their flight, and I took a long, deep breath to try and settle my nerves, my body.
I wasn’t afraid to fly—matter of fact I’d just hopped off a flight to LAX from Madison—for as long as I could remember, I’d been traveling via airplane. With family in two different states and living in a third, there was always somewhere to go, someone to see, something to celebrate.
No, I was nervous because this would be my first Christmas without anyone to join in the festivities.
My parents and brothers would be staying in North Carolina, spending the holiday together with my brothers’ wives and children. My ex-husband, Mason, was still in South Africa, probably with a new girlfriend by his side.
And I was jumping on a plane and flying to Australia.
Because after a year of heartbreak, spending the biggest holiday of the year away from the places I’d lived with and loved my ex, and all the happy couples that surrounded me, had seemed like a good—if expensive—idea.
“Australia?” My best friend, Ashton, had looked shocked when I’d told her my plans. I knew she’d expected—maybe even hoped—that I would spend Christmas with her and her family, but I didn’t want to be the third wheel.
Or, I guess, the seventh wheel, since Ash and her two brothers, Aaron and Austin, all had partners standing by their side.
Just like I used to have.
“Australia,” I’d confirmed, offering a cheerful smile and hoping Ash didn’t look too deep to see the anger and the pain that lingered below the surface. “I’ve always wanted to go, you know that. And what could be better for Christmas than spending time in the country that gave us the Hemsworth brothers and Hugh Jackman?”
That comment earned me a laugh, and an eye roll.
“Bianca . . .” Ash trailed off, clearly wanting to ask me about Mason and whether or not I was okay.
“I’m fine, I promise.” I’d reached out to place a hand on her arm, needing the contact with the woman who’d been my best friend since the first day of college.
“If you’re not, you’ll tell me?”
“I wouldn’t tell anyone else.” The promise had been easy to make, because Ash was my person. The one I confided in. Even when I’d been living in far-flung places, we’d still found a way to stay in contact, to keep up to date with one another.
But this Christmas was to be her first with Andrew—who she’d finally gotten together with fifteen years after they’d first met—and their adorable daughter, Kennedy.
“You’ll call me when you’re there safely, and every day until you come home.” It hadn’t been a request, but an order. With her blond curls and sweet smile, Ashton might’ve looked innocent and kind and chill, but I knew better.
There was a fierce, strong woman under that All-American exterior—the one that had driven her to pursue her motherhood dreams even when she’d been alone, herself at the end of a years-long relationship.
“I promise,” I’d repeated, knowing she’d hold me to it. “I’ll call and tell you all about the hot Australian Christmas—”
“And the hot Australian men.”
Laughin
g again at the memory of Ashton’s need for a daily hot guy update, I continued tap, tap, tapping my passport against my palm. After a mind-numbing three-hour delay, boarding was due to start any minute, and from the looks of the crowded gate seating, it was going to be a full flight.
Very full.
That was fine by me. I didn’t mind long flights—this one would be nearly fifteen hours—and I didn’t even mind the cramped space.
Nope, all I minded was getting to Australia in one piece, so I could start working on mending my broken heart—and discovering the person I wanted to be now that I was just me.
For so long, I had been a part of a couple, so being alone in the world again was like wearing new shoes. Kind of. I guess you pick new shoes out for yourself, whereas Mason’s actions had been the reason for our divorce. But in other ways, the metaphor worked.
You liked what you had on your feet and you wanted to wear them. But they felt strange, foreign, and maybe even a little painful at first. Until you broke them in and made them yours. That is what I wanted to do with my new, Mason-less life.
Make it mine.
“We are now boarding passengers in rows sixty through eighty-five.”
The announcement was crackly, but as I’d been listening intently since they first started allowing passengers on board, it was enough to penetrate my thoughts. Normally, I would happily sit and wait until the line had died down—I didn’t really understand the mad rush to get to my seat, only to sit there being jostled by people weaving down the aisles, or new passengers needing you to move out of their way—but this time, I was ready.
I needed to escape my thoughts and all the reasons I was running away to Australia. That meant I wanted to be stowing my little red carry-on, hooking my travel pillow around my neck, and settling into my very own version of flight mode as soon as humanly possible.
