Fumbled (The Girls of Beachmont #1)

by T. K. Rapp

  “What kind of answer is that? You either met someone or you didn’t,” she stated with finality.

  Abbi could always read me like a book—a boring, plain, stale book that had no plot whatsoever, yet she was always interested. Stupidly, I remained quiet too long and she jumped on it.

  “Okay, you better start talking now,” she barked, leaving little room for argument.

  “Nothing to tell,” I admitted. “I met someone the other day and don’t know much about her.”

  “Not even her name?” she questioned, surprise registering in her tone.

  “Dani,” I answered simply. Just saying her name made me smile.

  “So what else do you know about her?” she asked.

  “She’s a school teacher. Runs an after-school program. And…I told her my name is Tabor,” I confessed, feeling like an idiot. I sat back, pinching the bridge of my nose, and closed my eyes as I recalled the panic I felt when her blue eyes landed on me.

  “You’re joking, right?”

  “Nope.”

  “Do you think this Dani chick is for real?”

  “I think she might be,” I said, smirking to myself.

  “Be careful,” she said, sounding a lot like Mom at that moment. “You don’t want to end up with someone like Natasha again. That woman was pure evil.”

  “You know me,” I scoffed.

  “Yeah. I do. So I repeat: be careful.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

  “You wear your heart on your sleeve and you’re so quick to believe the good in people. Promise me you’ll play it cool—at least until you get to know her.”

  “I promise. But look, I need to go. I’m supposed to pick her up in an hour.”

  “You’re seeing her tonight?” Her gasp made me laugh. “Where does she live? Is it far from you?”

  “About thirty minutes, I guess,” I said. “So I need to get going.”

  “Are you nervous?” she teased.

  “Abbi,” I groaned, frustrated with her giddy tone.

  “You are nervous,” she laughed.

  “Goodbye, Abs,” I groaned, hanging up the phone before she could argue.

  It was typically how our phone calls ended: one of us would annoy the other until someone hung up the phone. And neither of us held grudges; it was part of our Hunter charm.

  But truth be told, I didn’t remember the last time I was nervous about picking someone up for a date.

  My phone buzzed and I looked down to see a text.

  Abbi: Call me later. I want more details on this girl

  Me: Will do

  ***

  As I made my way down Dani’s street, I took notice of the string of townhomes along the way. It was an older neighborhood, but by the looks of some of the people out for an evening walk, the tenants were young.

  My speed slowed as the street numbers got closer to hers, and I knew I was at the right place when I noticed a garage with Dani’s Bel Air parked in front of it. I found it cool that she was into classics and wondered if it was something she had always loved or a passing fad.

  I stepped out of my car and straightened my shirt as I walked to her front door. It had been a long time since I’d experienced the anonymity of dating—something I would have to explain before long. The only drawback to going out in public was the fact that there were limited places I could go and enjoy a quiet evening without being noticed.

  Metropolis Grill was a thirty-minute drive, but well worth it for the anonymity alone

  I rang the doorbell and stepped back while I waited for her to answer. A silhouette approached the door and she moved the fabric away from the window to look out. When she opened it I found myself speechless, staring at the woman from the side of the road in a simple black dress that showed off her legs. Her hair was down, thick waves resting on her shoulders, and a small amount of makeup on her face.

  “Wow, you look…” I said, trying not to sound too eager. “…beautiful.”

  “Thank you.” She grinned, glancing down at her feet. She looked up and I watched as she shifted nervously on her feet.

  Dani wearing jeans and a T-shirt would be sexy; something told me that was her norm. Dani in a sexy black dress—gorgeous.

  “You don’t look so bad yourself,” she said with a smirk.

  The side of my mouth curved up in a smile and I cocked my head to the side. “You clean up nice.”

  “Yeah, thanks for pointing out that ‘smudge’ on my face,” she laughed.

  “I thought it was kind of sexy, actually,” I defended.

  “Is that so?” Her cheeks flushed and she turned, pointing behind her. “I just need to grab my purse.”

  “We have a few minutes,” I said, hoping to get a look at her place. It was small, but seemed to fit her. I pointed to her living room when I noticed her walls covered with various framed pictures.

  “Go ahead.” She motioned to the black and white photos I showed interest in.

  “These are cool,” I said as I looked at the images. Some were of the beach, others of people—possibly strangers—in random places.

  “Thanks. My sister Gracie loves taking pictures. I started framing them when I saw they were stuffed in a closet collecting dust at her place.”

  She sat on the arm of her oversized beige couch and I could tell she was watching me. I could see her reflection in one of the frames so I pretended to stare at it. In reality, I was looking at her, longer than necessary.

  “Nice place,” I said as I turned to look at her.

  “Thanks,” she answered easily, laughing. “It’s only taken two years for it to feel like home.”

  “I’ve been in my place for about that long and it still feels pretty empty.”

  “Why is that?” she pried.

  Because I’m really JT Hunter and I don’t have time.

  “When I’m home, I like to relax. Shopping for house stuff doesn’t fall into the relaxing category for me.”

  I could have told her then, but I wanted to hold onto my secret a little longer. It was nice to just be a regular guy to someone besides myself.

  I walked toward her, and she started to get to her feet but managed to stumble in her heels. I quickly reached out and caught her elbow, steadying her.

  “Are you falling for me?” I teased with a wink.

  Her cheeks were bright pink, and when I looked down where my hand was touching on her arm, goose bumps appeared. I liked that I had some effect on her.

  A waft of her flowery perfume—or maybe it was her shampoo—hit me, and with our proximity, I’d never been so tempted to steal a kiss. But I tore my eyes away from her lips, remembering I was supposed to be a gentleman.

  “I—I’m good,” she finally said, swallowing hard as she gained her footing. “Like I said…klutz.”

  Dani walked over to grab her purse and turned off the lamp on the hallway table before we walked outside. I was waiting for her to lock up and extended my hand, something that took me by surprise.

  “I don’t want you falling down the stairs,” I said playfully, attempting to alleviate the tension.

  “You’re so funny,” she said. But she placed her hand in mine anyway.

  I planned on letting go when we reached the bottom step, but I liked the way her hand felt in mine. It felt natural, as if it was supposed to be that way.

  We walked to the passenger side of my Range Rover and I opened the door for her.

  “Nice car,” she said when I climbed into the driver’s seat and turned on the ignition.

  “Thanks.” I grinned. “It’s the one thing I splurged on when…”

  Just say it, Tabor.

  I started to back out of the driveway, my arm extended across the back of her seat. I should have said it, because it was the perfect opportunity to come clean. But the longer I paused, the more awkward the silence became.

  “Sorry, I lost my train of thought,” I lied as I started driving down the street.

  “You were talkin
g about when you got this car.”

  “Oh, that. Yeah, when I got my new job. I realize it’s not exactly a classic like yours, but it’s not a practical—how did you put it—piece of shit, either.”

  Dani covered her face with her hands as she laughed. “You heard that? Oh hell! How long were you there?”

  “Long enough, Dani,” I admitted with a smile.

  “Are you some sort of stalker?” she challenged.

  “Hardly. Like I said, you seemed determined to change that tire yourself.”

  “I was. And I have to say, I do know how to do it. My dad taught me. I could’ve changed it myself—five more minutes was all I needed.”

  “Yeah. I’m sure all the car needed was a stern talking to and another swift kick to the tire.”

  She laughed. “That’s right.”

  “So how long have you had the Bel Air? That’s a pretty sweet ride.”

  “It was a gift from my parents when I graduated college. My dad knows how much I love classic cars, so he did some research and found it relatively cheap. It needed some work, but nothing too expensive.”

  “What did you have before?”

  “No way. You asked me a question, now it’s my turn.” She shifted in her seat to face me and her dress slid up her thigh. I blinked a couple of times to get my head back on the road and cleared my throat as I waited for her question.

  “Tabor—that’s an interesting name,” she said.

  “Yeah, you mentioned that in your rambling the other day.” I smirked.

  She looked up at the sunroof and closed her eyes, a smile playing on her lips. It was fun teasing her, and seeing that she was embarrassed over her slip, I reached over and touched her knee gently. “I’m just kidding.”

  Her eyes looked at where my hand was and I quickly pulled it back, placing it on the wheel. I panicked a little until I saw the look of disappointment that I’d pulled it away, and felt a little better about my uncharacteristic move.

  “I wasn’t rambling,” she defended. “I was just trying to think of where I’ve heard that name before.”

  “I’ve never met another Tabor,” I answered. “I’m probably one of a kind.”

  “Please,” she chuckled, “no one is original anymore.”

  “No?”

  “Everyone thinks they’re the first to do something, find something, or be something, when in reality they’re just the latest incarnation. Hell, movies are being remade all the time. Originality no longer exists.”

  “I’m sure my mom will be disappointed that she wasn’t as unique as she thought,” I responded without a trace of humor.

  “Oh damn,” she covered her face again. “I’m sorry. My mouth always gets me into trouble.”

  I couldn’t help it—I started laughing and she looked at me and narrowed her eyes, smiling playfully.

  “I’m kidding. Honestly, I have no idea where she came up with the name. I almost think she meant to name me Table or something. Or maybe my parents were just drunk.”

  “Maybe she was just really creative.” She glanced at the dashboard before meeting my eyes again and smiled.

  “Are you from here?”

  “Yeah, grew up an hour north of here. But I went to Beachmont for college. I actually didn’t plan on coming back, but I guess I missed it more than I expected. Are you from around here?

  “Is that a pickup line?” I teased.

  “Oh my god! Get over yourself,” she said sarcastically.

  “It’s okay, I don’t mind.”

  “If I were using a pickup line, you’d know it.” She smirked.

  “See, that right there…you’re flirting with me,” I said with a grin.

  “I’m not hitting on you,” she defended weakly through her laughter.

  I clutched my chest and winced and she laughed harder.

  “Not like that. I mean, you’re cute and all, and I don’t think I’ve stopped smiling since…yeah, I’m going to shut up now.”

  “So I’m cute, huh?”

  I could have let her off the hook, but I was enjoying watching her blush and stammer over her words.

  “Would you prefer hot? Maybe I should have said ‘OMG, you’re like so hot,’” she said, sounding how I imagined her students would sound.

  “Much better.” I nodded. “So I’m hot?”

  “Shut up.” She swatted at my arm and turned her attention to the road. She was still smiling and I knew that I needed more of those smiles.

  “To answer your question, I’m originally from Chicago.”

  “What brought you out here?”

  I pulled into the parking lot in front of Metropolis Grill and turned to face her as the valet opened my door. “Work,” I said with a wink.

  I stepped out of the SUV and met Dani on the other side. I let my hand rest at the small of her back as I guided her to toward the restaurant. She shivered slightly at my touch and I knew it had nothing to do with the temperature outside. I passed off the key to the valet and before I realized what I was doing, I took her hand in mine.

  When we got to the entrance, I paused and waited for her to look at me. The moment her blue eyes met mine, something told me she was different from the others. Her breath hitched and she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth briefly. As much as I wanted to kiss her, it would have to wait. It was our first date, and I still hadn’t told her the truth about who I was.

  I dropped my face to her ear and whispered, “If I forget to tell you, thank you for coming with me tonight.”

  C h a p t e r 7

  D A N I

  I ran my free hand along the side of my go-to black cocktail dress. It skimmed the tops of my thighs, reminding me of how short it was, but I fought the urge to tug on the hem. My five-foot seven frame was made taller by the three-inch heels I’d shoved my feet into, but I felt sexy.

  “Damn,” I whispered to myself as I walked alongside him into the restaurant. He hadn’t let go of my hand, and I desperately needed some space after being so close to him. I wondered if he could see my heart pounding through the thin fabric of my dress. This man was all sorts of sexy.

  The hostess looked at Tabor and smiled without a word as she ushered us to a table in the back. The restaurant was dimly lit, with nothing more than candles to light each table. There was soft music playing overhead and people engaged in quiet conversations.

  “I’ve never been here,” I whispered as we sat down. “Hey, isn’t that—”

  He glanced over to where I was nodding. “Yeah, that’s Cooper Tanner,” he leaned in to whisper, seeing the pitcher for the San Diego Swingers.

  “Crazy,” I muttered.

  The waiter walked over and introduced himself before taking our drink order and disappearing so we could continue our conversation.

  “I take it you like baseball?” he asked.

  “Yeah, love it,” I admitted. “But the rest of my family are football fans.”

  Tabor’s brows furrowed. “And you?”

  “I just never got into it.”

  He scoffed nervously as he relaxed into his seat. “No?”

  I shook my head. “Something about all those men just beating the crap out of each other seems barbaric.”

  My eyes widened slightly when I remembered I was talking to a football player. I should have tried to cover, but I didn’t care that he was JT Hunter. He was fun and I liked being around him. To be honest, I hadn’t even thought about who he was until that moment.

  “My sister would like you,” he said. He lifted his menu and began looking it over when I spoke again.

  “Why is that?”

  “Because you don’t…” He trailed off and looked at his menu without finishing.

  He wanted to say it, I was sure of it. But I couldn’t figure out why it was so hard for him to admit the truth.

  “Like football?” I asked, completing his sentence.

  “Yeah, something like that,” he said. “Can I tell you something?”

  “Sure.” I closed
my menu and set it in front of me.

  “I wasn’t exactly honest with you the other day,” he started. He took a sip of water and set the glass down, his eyes avoiding mine. “It’s stupid, really.”

  “What were you not honest about?” I pried.

  “About me. Who I am,” he said in a rush. He tapped his fingers on the table and sat back, clearing his throat, but was still refusing to meet my eyes. He ran his hand across his forehead and appeared anxious.

  “You’re Tabor Hunter,” I clarified and paused to take a sip of my water. “Or JT, as most people know you.”

  My gaze met his and I felt a tingle run down my spine. I hadn’t planned on admitting the truth for him, but he looked so nervous and I just wanted to take the pressure off. He blinked rapidly and I could tell he was trying to piece together what I said.

  I kept quiet while he thought about my confession. When I’d gotten home from Gracie’s I’d started doing a few searches on Tabor, or rather JT Hunter. I was curious to see what kind of guy he was. Since I wasn’t a football fan and couldn’t even name a starting player on any team, I figured anything would help.

  Except that everything I read made JT Hunter sound too good to be true. As much as I wanted to believe all the great things, I found myself searching for the flaws. After all, no one is perfect. Right?

  “You knew?” he finally asked accusingly, his voice almost a whisper.

  “Not at first,” I admitted with a sigh. “I was telling my sister about this nice guy who helped me change a tire and asked me out. Long story short, she put it together and then pretty much ridiculed me for not recognizing you.”

  He sat quiet for a moment and I couldn’t tell if he was irritated, angry, or shocked. His brows were pinched and he stared at the table as he processed my words. I waited for him to say something or explain it, maybe even lash out. His expression was hard to read until his eyes met mine and a small smile appeared.

  “What?” I asked.

  “You didn’t know who I was,” he repeated.

  “Until today? No. But it’s not like you were honest about it,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “And you were talking to your sister about me, huh?”