Falling Into Right

by Sharon Kay

  Each time a new song started, she knew the title. And each time, she looked at him like it was Christmas morning and shouted the name of the artist. Then she’d dance. Christ, she was addicting. Even when they’d gone for drink refills, she’d kept up the moves. He’d brought her to the bar with him because there was no way he was leaving her unattended in this place. Not that he thought she couldn’t handle things, but because he was selfish. He didn’t want anyone else talking to her, and men in bars could sometimes be assholes.

  They stood in line at the bar now, Becca grooving to a Carrie Underwood song about getting back at a man who’d cheated on her. The bar was so loud he had no idea if Becca had a good singing voice or not. But it didn’t matter. Her enthusiasm was contagious. “You want another rum and Coke?”

  “Yes, please!” She leaned in, yelling in his ear. “This band is so good!”

  He grinned at her. She’d been so nervous the other times he’d run into her. Was she finally letting herself have fun because it was the weekend? She’d said she didn’t get out much. Being with her now, she sure didn’t seem like the stay-at-home-on-Friday-night type. But there was so much he didn’t know.

  He still couldn’t fathom her coming off a broken engagement. And what was up with her major in accounting? She was gorgeous, she was a mystery, and though he told himself he wasn’t interested, that was a fucking lie.

  They reached the bar, and he ordered her drink plus water for himself. He was damn parched, and though he could easily down more beer, he’d rather keep every sense laser-focused on her.

  “Oh, can I have a sip?” She eyed his water.

  “Course. You want one?” He handed it to her.

  “No. I want my rum and Coke.” She reached for his bottle and uncapped it.

  “And my water.”

  “And your water.” She raised the bottle to her lips and drank.

  He tried not to stare like a weirdo. He’d never paid attention to the way a woman’s throat moved when she drank, but now, all kinds of dirty thoughts about her throat filled his head. Which was out of line, but she was more tempting than any woman he’d been around. Ever.

  She finished and handed it back, turning toward the band. “I think I heard them start play—”

  Slam! Two giggling girls, one carrying three beers haphazardly balanced between her hands, tried to walk into the same space Becca occupied. The girl who only had two drinks stopped. The three-drink girl ran straight into Becca and sloshed beer all over her chest and shirt.

  Becca gasped and blinked, mouth wide, hunching her shoulders forward as beer undoubtedly ran all down her front, inside her shirt.

  “Oh my god I’m sooo sorry! Oh shit.” The three-drink girl looked drunkenly horrified.

  “Oh my god, Kate!” Her friend set her drinks on the bar and yelled for the bartender to bring napkins. Turning back to Becca, she gushed. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, just soaked.” Becca held her sopping shirt away from her body.

  Shane knew it was an accident, but he hated that his date’s top was going to cling like a fucking wet T-shirt to those perfect breasts. Luckily, the place was so loud and crowded that few people seemed to have noticed the incident. And thank god, because the upper swells of Becca’s chest glistened with the moisture from the beer. It shouldn’t have been hot, but fucking hell, he had to tear his eyes away.

  Kate, the one who had doused Becca in beer, pulled a couple of Kleenex from her pocket and started blotting Becca’s shirt. As if that would do anything. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I’m such a klutz.” Dab, dab.

  Becca took the tissues from her. “Um, that’s okay. I got this.”

  “I was totally not looking. Obviously.” Kate paused and stared like she was just realizing what she’d done, and focused on Becca’s chest. “Wow. Um, you have amazing boobs. Are they real?”

  Becca stopped blotting her shirt and just stared as if the girl had spoken another language. “What?”

  “Kate! What’s wrong with you?” Her friend appeared mortified enough for both of them. “I’m so sorry. Really. Um, do you want to send us the dry cleaning bill?”

  “No, I can wash it. It’s fine.” Becca shook her head.

  “If you had them done, can you tell me who your surgeon was?” Kate went on. She smoothed her own tight-fitting top along her sides and modest chest. “I could use all the help I can get.”

  “Okay, we’re done talking.” Kate’s friend grabbed her arm. She gave Becca one last apologetic glance. “She’s not allowed to carry any more drinks tonight. Again, I’m so sorry.” They made their way to a big group clustered at a table in the back.

  Becca dropped a wrinkled wad of napkins on the bar. “I think that’s as good as it will get.”

  “Do you want to clean up in the bathroom?” Shane asked.

  “No. It really will wash out.” She shook out her hair. “That was weird. It’s been years since I’ve had beer spilled on me.”

  Shane coughed, trying not to picture any more liquid on Becca’s body or else risk getting a hard-on right there in the middle of the bar. “I’m sorry that happened. Do you want to leave?”

  She reached for her rum and Coke that he’d set on the bar. “No. This band is really good. And this’ll be dry before I know it.”

  “You got it.” A girl who wanted to have fun no matter what. Had to admire that.

  He led her back to the spot they’d been standing in, in the middle of the crowd. Thank goodness the band changed from a sad breakup song to an upbeat one. Right now, she didn’t seem troubled by her recent breakup, but he knew people could be excellent at hiding what they truly felt.

  After another hour of drinking, dancing, and utter Becca sexiness, she slowed to a sway at his side. The bar had gotten more crowded with each passing hour, and the noise level was deafening. She laid a hand on his shoulder.

  He glanced down at her, liking her hand there. “I’m getting tired,” she shouted.

  “Wanna go?” He hooked a thumb toward the door.

  She nodded.

  He turned around to see a wall of people behind them. He glanced at her again. She gained a couple inches of height with her heels, but she was still little, and he would have to create a path where there was none to be had. He wrapped his arm around her narrow shoulders and tucked her close to his side before weaving his way through the packed bodies, absorbing the bumps of people dancing, and pushing through until they made it out the front door.

  “Whew!” she breathed. “Any more people in there, and they’ll be violating a fire code.”

  “Probably.” Shane knew he had no reason to keep hold of her, but he didn’t let go. She felt too good at his side.

  And it was just as well, because the toe of her boot caught on a cracked patch of sidewalk on the way to his truck. “Ooops,” she muttered as she stumbled. “Damn it.”

  He tightened his grip. “I got you.”

  “I’m tripping. I have beer on my shirt. You must think I’m a total mess.”

  He was about to tell her no, but then she slipped her arm around his waist. That tiny touch made him happier than it should have. The scent of her hair wafted up to him. She was too damn much.

  They got to his truck, and he opened the door for her. She clambered in, more awkwardly than she had at the beginning of the evening. He wasn’t sure if it was because she was tired or because she may have had one rum and Coke too many. Not that he was complaining.

  He walked around to his side, hopped in, and cranked the engine. The radio was preset to a country station, and Becca reached for the dial, turning it up. “Oooh, I love this one! It’s Billy Currington.”

  She proceeded to sing to most of the songs the whole way home, bopping her head. Her voice cracked on and off key, but damn if she wasn’t the most fun he’d had in years. They reached her driv
eway, which was pitch dark, as was the front of her house.

  “Oh shoot. I forgot to turn lights on,” she said. “See? I really never go anywhere. I don’t remember what to do.”

  “I’ll walk you to your door,” he said. “Stay there.” In a flash, he was outside and hustling to her side of the truck.

  He opened it, and she half scooted, half slid out. He took her hand as her heeled boots hit the driveway.

  “Thanks,” she murmured, slender fingers clutching his.

  The moon was full and high overhead, but it didn’t cast any light on her door’s lock. She reached in her pocket. “My keys are here.” She reached farther. “Somewhere.”

  How much room could be in that pocket? He’d seen her lock the door, so she had to have them, unless they’d fallen out at the bar. But judging from how her jeans hugged her curves, he doubted anything like a key would just fall out. Then she pulled out two keys on a key ring. She fumbled with one then the other, jabbing futilely at the lock in the darkened corner of the doorframe. “Why can’t I do this?”

  “Let me,” he said softly, pushing the screen door wide enough that he could stand next to her. He took the key from her fingers and unlocked first the dead bolt then the main lock. With a push on the door, he waited for her cue.

  He didn’t expect to be invited in. No matter how much fun they had, it was their first date, and they barely knew each other. Not that that had stopped anyone in the past. But she’d also had a few drinks, and he wouldn’t take advantage of that. He hoped like hell they’d have a second date. He handed her keys back.

  “Thanks.” She took a step and stumbled over the threshold. Then she dropped her keys in the foyer. “Damn it.”

  Without thinking, he slid an arm around her waist and helped her inside. He crouched to pick up her keys and set them on a little table. He eased her toward a wall in the dark foyer and when he was sure she was steady against the wall, he let go.

  “Sorry about that,” she whispered. “I may have had one drink too many.”

  “S’okay.” A sliver of light shone in a window in the front room, providing the only bright spot. “You say you don’t get out much. You’re making up for lost time.”

  “I had so much fun tonight.” She smiled.

  “Even though you got beer spilled all over you?”

  “Yeah.” She nodded, and her smile grew. “Wasn’t the first time. Probably won’t be the last.”

  He stifled a groan, back to trying not to think of her being wet in any way. “I had fun too. Wanna do this again?”

  “Definitely.” Her eyes sparkled, then dropped to his lips. She licked her own.

  Ah, hell. He was waiting for her cues, and she was broadcasting loud and clear exactly what she wanted. Watching her move all night, he’d forced down the thoughts of how sweet she might taste, but now, with just the two of them, everything was magnified. Every little hitch in her breath or flutter of those long lashes. He couldn’t think of a good reason not to kiss her. Just a kiss…

  He leaned an arm on the wall beside her head. She sank her little teeth into her lower lip, sexy plump lips that had smiled at him all night. He’d loved her megawatt smiles trained on him, but he’d also had to tamp down thoughts of what her mouth could do.

  With his other hand, he traced a finger along her jaw, tilting her head up. He wanted to take it slow, to let her know what he was thinking, to give her the chance to tell him no.

  But her fingers settled at his waist and, with the slightest pressure, tugged him closer.

  He closed the small distance between them, brushing his lips across hers. A sigh escaped her, then a tiny shuddering gasp. He did it again, and her grip tightened on his waist. Those warm little hands were all the encouragement he needed.

  Sliding his hand to her nape, he covered her mouth with his, shaping her. A sweet, feminine moan came from her throat. He dropped his hand from the wall to the dip of her waist that had tempted him all evening. She sighed into him, and he teased the seam of her lips with his tongue.

  Her body trembled under his hands, and for a second, he hesitated, wondering if he’d pushed too far. But then she skated her hands up his chest, slow and purposeful, and linked them behind his neck. With her sexy body pressed close to his, she parted her lips.

  She felt too damn good up against him. She was a rush, a mix of temptation and sweetness and curves. He swept his tongue into her mouth. God, she tasted sweet, with a hint of rum still on her lips. Her full breasts pushed against his chest as she breathed, another tease. He doubted she even realized how hot it was.

  With a half step, he pushed her fully against the wall. The light scratch of her fingernails at the back of his neck spurred him on, and he kissed her deeper, the rogue side of him wanting to make her want. She was right there with him, tangling her tongue with his. Tiny, soft, sexy sounds escaped her as she threaded her hands into his hair.

  He was two seconds away from rocking his hips into her to let her know how achingly hard she’d already gotten him. But he tore his mouth away from hers to take her in. Heavy-lidded eyes blinked up at him. Breath rushed over her parted lips. So damn beautiful.

  He dipped his head to her ear and kissed a path down. Hell, he’d thought about kissing her all night. He couldn’t wait to taste more than her mouth.

  Licking along the vein at her throat, he dipped his hand at her waist lower, caressing her hip. She squirmed and let out another shaky sigh. When he got to the spot where her neck flowed into her shoulder, he sucked gently—

  A giggle escaped her.

  He glanced up.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  He went back to tasting her, getting the faint tang of exertion mixed with the heady scent of her skin. But she giggled again.

  He straightened, setting both hands on her waist. She looked sexy and delicious, but also a bit embarrassed.

  “I’m sorry,” she said again. “That tickles ’cause I-I’m kinda tipsy.”

  He flexed his fingers into her waist, loving how she stated the obvious. But good to know she wasn’t always a giggle box. “I know. So we’re stopping.”

  A flash of worry in her eyes. “Are you mad that I am?”

  “No, ’course not.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I like you tipsy. You’re pretty damn cute, all giggly.”

  “Giggly, tripping, dropping stuff…” She kept her hands behind his neck. “I haven’t had a first date in so long, I don’t even know what to do.”

  “You’re doin’ just fine.” He kept his hands at her waist because she was inches away and tempting, but they weren’t going any further tonight. “Especially the part where you said there’d be a second date.”

  “Yeah. For sure.”

  “And next time I kiss your neck…” He traced a finger along her dewy skin below her ear.

  She sucked in a breath.

  “I want you sober.” Not that he would mind getting stone cold drunk with her—but for what he wanted to do to her, with her, he wanted her completely aware and on board with him.

  Breath whooshed out of her lungs. “Okay.” The word was barely a word, more like a sigh. “I can do that.”

  “I’m gonna go.” He reached for her hands, gently drawing them down from his neck. “You, ah, good to get yourself in bed?” If he had to help her with that, lord help him, his good intentions would burn quick as kindling on a dry fall day.

  “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  Her hands were small and delicate in his, and her parted lips beckoned, but he needed to cool it. If he kissed her again, and if she responded the way she had, he wouldn’t leave. And he needed to. “All right then. I’ll call or text, and we can figure out our next date.”

  “Okay. Good night.” Her soft, murmured words were tinged with promise and a hint of a bedroom purr.

  “’Night, Becca.”
He turned and strode out her door before his body decided he should stay.

  Chapter 9

  Becca got into her Prius at the end of her workday on Tuesday. The ladies had been daring today, opting for a bright-orange shade on their nails that they said would be perfect for fall. And that was after a rousing game of bingo where the prize was a king size Kit Kat bar. All in all, it was a good day. People were kind to her. She wished it paid more, but she was glad to have a job. Her options had been limited. No financial institutions, no cash registers. No handling other people’s money.

  Like she’d told Shane, she truly was a saver. She had money set aside, just in case, and now she needed every penny.

  Taking out her phone before she started driving, she pulled up the text thread she had from Shane. He’d messaged her Sunday at lunchtime.

  How are you feeling?

  Good. Embarrassed, she’d texted back.

  Hey, no worries. But I have a homegrown hangover cure if you need one.

  Ha ha, no, it’s not that bad.

  Glad to hear. Looking forward to seeing you again.

  Me too.

  Maybe she was silly to re-read it, but it was sweet and made her smile. She hadn’t expected him to check up on her. She hadn’t known what to expect, period. He’d been so intense, the way he’d touched her as he kissed her. As if he knew exactly where he wanted her body and was going to get her there—and she would enjoy it.

  She squirmed in her seat just thinking about it. His words echoed in her head. Next time, I want you sober.

  Every inch of her couldn’t wait for next time. Sighing, she set the phone in the cup holder and buckled in. She twisted to check behind her—

  Ding!

  Her phone chimed with an incoming text. The specific tone was a selection that she had assigned to only one person and had forgotten to change.

  Kirk.

  She took her hand off the gear shift to reach for her cell. Why would he text her? They hadn’t exactly parted on bad terms—more like strange terms. More like she-screwed-up-really-bad terms. And there was no undoing it. No knock down, drag out screaming fight, no clothes thrown dramatically out into the yard. Just a very definite end.