Fall with Me

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

  “I thought it was very nice of him to find you yesterday and tell you about Henry,” she continued, and relief punched me in the stomach.

  Thank God she wasn’t referencing the shenanigans. “How did you know about that?”

  She smiled. “His mother told me last night.” The look about her became shrewd. “I think he went out of his way to do so. Out of his way, Roxy. Hmm, don’t you find that interesting?”

  “Oh, Mom.” I rolled my eyes. Of course, she knew I had a huge crush on him from the moment he’d moved in next door. I was convinced that she and

  Reece’s mother might have plotted to get Reece and me together last year over Thanksgiving, because they’d been dropping hints about both of us being sadly single to the point Reece’s brother almost choked on mashed potatoes because he was laughing so hard.

  It had been an uncomfortable joining of the two families, which meant it was going to be even more awkward this year, since the almost-­hookup happened not too many moons after the Thanksgiving dinner.

  “He’s a good boy, Roxy.” Mom droned on, sounding like an infomercial for Reece. “He fought for his country and then came home, took a job where he puts his life in danger. And what happened last year, with that boy. He had to make a tough—­”

  “Mom,” I moaned.

  I was able to steer the conversation away from Reece and toward the upcoming debut of grandbaby number one. When it was time for me to get ready for my evening shift at Mona’s, I got a warm and squishy hug from Mom.

  As she pulled back, she looked me straight in the eye. “We didn’t talk a lot about Henry and what he wants, but I wanted to let you know that your father and I support you, no matter what you decide.”

  Tears rushed me, and I blinked them back. Aw man, I loved my parents. They were too good to me. “I don’t want to talk to him. I don’t even want to see his face.”

  Her smile was sad as she nodded, and I knew what she was really thinking. They wanted to see me let go of the big old baggage of hate that sat on my shoulders. “If that’s what you want, then we are right behind you.”

  “It is,” I confirmed.

  She patted my cheek and then roared out of the house the same way she’d come in, and as I closed the door behind her, I realized there’d be no time for a nap.

  Which was a good thing, because I’d probably end up dreaming about Reece again, and that was the last thing I needed to do. Right that second, I developed a list of priorities.

  Number One: I needed to shower. Baby steps.

  Number Two: I needed to stop dreaming about him. Easier said than done, but whatever. It was high on the priority list.

  Number Three: I also needed to stop painting his stupid—­albeit sexy—­face.

  And finally, Number Four: I needed to be up front with Reece the next time I saw him and tell him the truth about that night. I could do that, at least. Let go of that baggage of hurt. I needed to, because I couldn’t stop thinking about what he had asked me.

  Did I hurt you?

  Pressing my lips together, I tried to ignore the nugget of guilt that bloomed in my belly as I started down the hall. Reece had dealt with enough guilt. He didn’t need me adding to it. Once inside my bedroom, I stripped down, leaving my clothes remaining where they fell as my thoughts were circling around how I was going to break the news.

  I had a sinking suspicion he wasn’t going to be happy with me.

  But if I had known he thought something like that this entire time, I would’ve cleared it up long ago. Seriously. Me being butt sore over it was nowhere near as bad as him thinking he did something really bad.

  Chewing on my lower lip, I padded across the room, passing the deep closet. The doors were open, and a cold draft wafted on the bare skin of my stomach, creating a wave of goose bumps on my flesh. The bad thing about the Victorian was the draftiness, even in the summer. Mr. Silver once told me that there were hidden passages in the house from back in the day, pathways under the staircases and hidden doors behind plastered-­up walls.

  Come to think of it, the main staircase leading to the upstairs apartments abutted up to my bedroom.

  Wheeling around, like a dork I quickly closed the closet doors. Pretty pointless considering I was buck naked, but I did it anyway.

  As I got ready for work, I went right back to obsessing over the caring and sharing session I was going to have to have with Reece. Deep down I knew it wasn’t going to end well, and I shouldn’t care, but I did.

  And I knew he was not only going to regret the night that never really happened, but once he realized I hadn’t told him the truth, he was also going to end up hating me.

  Chapter 5

  Mona’s was slammed Saturday night. With Jax already at Shepherd University in West Virginia with Calla, we were a man down when it came to the bar. Clyde was still out of commission due to doctor’s orders after suffering a heart attack last month. Sherwood, our part-­time cook, was running around like a madman.

  We were so busy I barely caught the moment Nick slid his phone number scribbled on one of our new napkins to a girl in cut-­off jeans.

  “Another one bites the dust,” I sang as I shimmied past him to grab two beers.

  His eyes narrowed on me.

  I giggled as I spun back, placing the bottles on the bar. The two guys waiting looked legit and normal, dressed in dark jeans and plain shirts, but I knew they didn’t run in the friendliest of circles. I’d seen them both with Mack, who’d worked for a guy in Philly named Isaiah, who everyone in and near the city knew to stay away from. Worked as in the past tense, because over the summer, Mack had ended up with a bullet to the head on a lonely back road. From what I gathered, he’d been the one messing with Calla, threatening her over what her mom had gotten into, and Isaiah hadn’t been too keen on the unwanted police attention being thrown his way.

  So I smiled brightly up at them. “On the house.”

  The older one with coal-­black hair winked. “Thanks, darling.”

  I figured it was a good idea to have potential mobsters in your back pocket. Never knew when one needed someone to take a cement swim. Ha.

  I was guessing Reece was working, so completing Priority Number Four was on hold. I’d be a liar, liar, pants on fire if I said I wasn’t relieved, because I was so dreading that moment of truth. And I had his phone number, so I could’ve totally texted him and asked to meet up. Or I could’ve texted him the truth.

  But that would’ve been so lame I’d have to give myself a cement swim.

  Good news was I wasn’t really dwelling on it, since I was bouncing from one customer to the next, racking up tips. It was after midnight when I looked up from making a wicked sex on the beach and saw Dean standing at the corner of the bar.

  Oh crap.

  The moment I looked up, he saw me. Duh. I was standing right there and he was looking right at me. Briefly, I considered diving behind the ser­vice well.

  “Hey,” he said, finding what had to be the only unoccupied bar stool in the world. “Busy tonight.”

  I could feel heat creeping into my face. I so had not responded to his text earlier. After Mom had left, I’d forgotten about it. “Yeah, it’s been a really busy . . . day.” As I placed the pineapple juice back, I winced. A day so busy I didn’t have time to send a text? Lame. When I faced him, I kept my bar smile firmly in place. “What can I get you?”

  He blinked slowly. His eyes were blue, not as vibrant as Reece’s—­dammit! I was not thinking about his eye color. “Um, a Bud would be great.”

  Nodding, I quickly hurried off to grab him a beer. On the way back, Nick raised his brows at me but said nothing. I slapped a napkin on the bar and placed the beer on it. “Tab or pay as you go?”

  Again, he blinked and then leaned back, fishing out his wallet. “Pay now.” He slipped a ten over. “Keep the change.”

 
“Thanks,” I mumbled, wanting to leave the money on the bar, but there was rent and that new set of watercolors I wanted to get, so . . . Taking a deep breath, I glanced up at him as I folded my hand over the cash. “Look, Dean, I had a really good—­”

  “Hey! Roxy-­moxy, my girl!”

  My bones nearly jumped out of my skin at the sound of Katie’s voice. I turned, surprised that she’d been able to sneak in. Then again, the bar was that crowded, and she was actually dressed down tonight. Kind of.

  Katie worked across the street at the gentlemen’s club. In other words, she was an exotic dancer and loved every minute of it. Normally she was wearing something that most wouldn’t even consider wearing out in public. Tonight, her long legs were encased in bubble-­gum pink leather and her halter top was like a purple disco ball.

  Dean eyed her like she was an alien who had just strolled into the bar.

  “Yo,” I recovered quickly, and out of habit, grabbed the bottle of Jose and a shot glass. “How’s work tonight?”

  Elbowing her way between an older woman and Dean, she squeezed into the miniscule space. “So boring I almost fell asleep while sliding down the pole.”

  “That would’ve ended badly.” I poured the shot.

  “So, you’re off on Sunday, right?” Dean cut in, clamping his arms close to his sides as if he were afraid of touching Katie and catching something from her.

  I did not like that.

  Katie snickered as she curled fingers with an icy blue manicure around the shot glass. “She is off, but she ain’t going to be spending it with you unless your last name is Winchester.” She arched a brow as she checked him out, and my mouth dropped open. “And you are so obviously not Dean Winchester.”

  “Excuse me?” he sputtered, his cheeks flushing red.

  “What?” She shrugged tanned shoulders. “Honey, I’m just telling you in a nice way you don’t stand a chance with her.”

  “Katie,” I hissed.

  Dean turned to me.

  “Awkward,” murmured Katie.

  I shot her a look.

  She pursed her lips, kissed the air, and then downed the shot of tequila in one gulp. “Remember what I told you.” She slammed the glass on the top, and the woman next to her watched her back her way out of the spot with raised brows. Katie tapped her finger off the side of her head. “You’ve already met the man you’re going to spend the rest of your life with.”

  Oh dear. I so remembered her telling me that I’d already met the love of my life, basing it on the psychic powers she claimed she developed when she fell off a greased-­up pole while dancing.

  These kinds of things only happen to ­people I know.

  I was highly doubtful—­or at least hopeful—­that I hadn’t met the love of my life yet, but that wasn’t the only thing she told me. One of the things she had told me had come true.

  And it had to do with Reece.

  Katie made a face at Dean’s back. “And it ain’t him. Anyway, Roxy-­moxy, we still on for waffles for lunch tomorrow?” When I nodded, she wiggled her fingers. “Toodles.”

  Sort of struck stupid, I watched her prance her way out of the bar. I’d known Katie for a long time, but she still managed to throw me for a loop.

  “There is something wrong with that girl,” Dean said, voice razor-­edged with irritation. “I don’t know how you deal with her.”

  My gaze swung on him. “There’s nothing wrong with her at all.” His eyes flared with surprise. “I’m sorry, but I’m pretty busy right now.”

  He did that blinking thing. “It’s okay. We’ll talk later.”

  I opened my mouth to tell him that wasn’t going to happen, but he pivoted around and disappeared into the crowd. Shaking my head, I moved to the other side of the bar. I didn’t have to say a word to Nick, because he switched sides and I threw myself into filling orders. Sometime later, I glanced up and awkwardly made eye contact with Dean. After that, I didn’t see him.

  The rest of the night zoomed by. We did final call, and then cleared out the bar before we cashed out tips and settled the register. Normally when Nick and I did this together, we did so with nothing but music to keep us company. Usually I’d find the most annoying song known to man and play it, but I wasn’t really feeling it tonight.

  And apparently Nick was in a chatty mood. “Who was that guy who was in here talking to you?”

  I shut the register door and scribbled the totals on the spreadsheet Jax had created. One day, Mona’s would grow up to be a real bar and we’d get a POS system. A girl could dream. I sighed as I faced him, leaning against the bar while he cleaned up. “He was just some guy I went out on a date with.”

  “Only going to be one date?”

  I shrugged. “Yeah. Not interested.”

  Flipping the towel he was using over his shoulder, he walked over to me. “Is he going to be a problem?”

  Both of the boys—­Jax and Nick—­could be a wee bit overprotective, as could Clyde. “No, he won’t be a problem. I think he got the message tonight.” I cocked my head at him. “Besides, I’m not your little sister and you’ve got to run all the boys off.”

  “I don’t have a little sister.”

  “Whatever.”

  “I have a younger brother, though.” He placed his hands on either side of me and dipped his chin. As close as we were, I could see that his eyes were more green than brown. And holy mother of pearls, we were as close as My Little Ponies. “And Roxy, I do not see the word sister when I think of you.”

  “Oh?” My glasses started to slip down my nose.

  “I’d totally get with you,” he announced. Just like that. Bam. Right in my face.

  My eyes widened as shock jolted through me. Never in a gazillion years had Nick shown any interest in me. “Um . . .”

  His lips curled up in a half grin. “But then I couldn’t work here anymore, so that isn’t going to happen. I’d probably make an exception for you, but that’s not the main reason why I wouldn’t . . .” He moved one hand and tapped the tip of my nose. “Go there with you.”

  I stared at him a moment, flattered, and . . . yeah, dumbfounded. “Thanks. I think.”

  He winked and then pushed off the bar. Grabbing the towel off his shoulder, he picked up a spray cleaner and spritzed the bar top. It took a moment for my brain to start working again. I fixed my glasses.

  “Well, I’d . . . totally do you, too, but then it would just be awkward.”

  Nick chuckled.

  “So . . . you really, truly just hook up with chicks and then never see them again?” Curiosity might’ve killed the cat, but it was my best friend.

  “I don’t do commitments.”

  “Seeing someone more than once isn’t a commitment,” I reasoned with what I thought was valid logic. “I mean, I can almost get not hooking up with someone more than once, but seeing them?”

  He looked over his shoulder at me. “It’s just the way I am.”

  “Okay,” I murmured, shaking my head. “Aren’t you just a heartbreaker?”

  A snicker was my only response. We finished up shortly after what I was considering to be a really weird night at Mona’s. I had the keys, so when Nick opened the door, I wasn’t paying attention to what was outside. I was busy struggling with the lock, and first thought the low chuckle that rumbled out of him had to do with me. It was when I dropped the heavy key ring in my purse and turned around, that I saw what he was laughing at.

  “Wha . . . ?” I trailed off as my heart began pounding.

  There was a county cruiser parked next to my car and there was a really freaking hot cop propped against the passenger side, long legs crossed at the ankles and arms folded across a yummy chest.

  Reece was waiting.

  I wasn’t really thinking about my list of priorities as I stared at him in the dimly lit parking lot. The muggy ni
ght air settled over me as he unfolded his legs and pushed off the cruiser. My gaze roamed over him. I was really just thinking about how the polyester material of his work pants moved along his thighs.

  God, he walked with the kind of lethal grace that should be illegal.

  Nick leaned in and whispered in my ear, “And right there is the main reason why I wouldn’t get with you.”

  I tripped over my feet.

  “Hey man.” Nick clapped Reece on the shoulder as he strolled past him. “Have a good night. See you Wednesday, Roxy.”

  “Bye-­bye.” I didn’t take my eyes off Reece. What was he doing here, at two thirty in the morning? It wasn’t the first time I’d stepped out of the bar late at night and found Reece waiting. Back before “the night thou shalt not repeat,” he used to do it every once in a while, when he was working the night shift and was taking lunch.

  But it was something I hadn’t expected him to do again.

  The sound of Nick’s motorcycle rumbling to life echoed throughout the otherwise silent parking lot. I needed to say something, because we were standing there, a few feet between us, staring at one another. “Hi.”

  Well, that was spectacular.

  One side of his lips kicked up as his gaze dipped. “What . . . ?” He laughed, and there was a flutter deep in my belly, like a nest of butterflies had suddenly taken flight.

  “What does your shirt say?”

  I glanced down, trying to stop the smile tugging at my lips. “It says ‘Ladies’ Man.’ What’s wrong with that?”

  Long, thick lashes lifted and then he laughed again, that nice and light laugh that wrapped around me. “You are . . . you’re something else, Roxy.”

  Shifting my weight from one foot to the next, I bit down on my lip. “I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a run-­in-­the-­other-­direction kind of thing.”

  He took one step closer, his arms loose at his sides—­his right arm brushing against the handle of his duty gun. The star on his chest seemed shinier than possible, and was eye level with me. “It’s . . . yeah, it’s a good thing.”