Hard to Fall

by Marquita Valentine

  “Does a lizard regenerate its tail after it has been cut off?”

  Her brow creases. “Uh, yes, it does, so…”

  Crap. I’m not thinking straight. “Go to him. I’ll be fine.”

  The press is interviewing Hayden, making me shy away from the middle of the event. While I can feel his eyes on me, he doesn’t ask me to stand by his side.

  And I am more than grateful for this. Keeping myself busy and out of the way, I fix a plate and head for the table that is the farthest away from the festivities.

  It’s not until I’m on my second BBQ sandwich that my husband is able to get away.

  “Hello, beautiful.” He kisses my nose, then throws his leg over the seat. “Mind if I join you?”

  “Nope,” I say around the goodness that is eastern North Carolina–style pulled pork. “Want some?”

  His eyes drop to my lips. “Tonight I do.”

  With a little pleased roll of my eyes, I set my sandwich down. “Have you actually had any lunch?”

  “Ate it on the way over to you.”

  “Impressive.”

  He winks at me. “I can be fast, but you, apparently, are as slow as molasses.”

  “Second sandwich,” I admit.

  “Nice.” He grins, then turns serious. “Why are you sitting by yourself?”

  My skin suddenly becomes itchy, like I’ve just fallen into poison ivy. “Didn’t want to be in the way.”

  “You’re never in my way.” He scoots closer to me. “I thought you wouldn’t appreciate being on camera, but if I made the wrong assumption, please tell me.”

  “You made the right choice.” I grab a chip and pop it in my mouth. “Unless it’s for the shelter, I don’t enjoy public speaking.”

  His blue eyes regard me for a moment. “I promise that you won’t have to appear at any event with my family, but I would like you to keep coming to my stuff here with the station.”

  “Even if I hide at a table far, far away in another galaxy?”

  “Even then.”

  My heart pinches in my chest. He knows exactly what to say to me.

  Worse, he truly means it.

  Chapter 19

  Hayden

  I shuffle up the stairs, stiff joints and muscles making it impossible for me to do more than that. It’s nights like these that I wish for my old apartment, but only because of the elevator.

  We had three jobs today, each one worse than the last. The final, a four-alarm fire at a decaying manufacturing warehouse in the commercial district, required two extra pumpers to be called in. Due to the building being empty, the red and whites were on scene only for us.

  Thankfully, when dispatch asked for a roll call, everyone was accounted for. Our size-ups were on point, as well. No misinformation given, which means that when we roll up, there are no surprises.

  Except a fire is always a surprise. I’ve been doing this for years now, and my heart still kicks against my chest when the bell rings. Adrenaline pumps through my veins as I get into my bunker gear.

  Honestly, I hope that never changes. I don’t want to become jaded. Experienced and calm, absolutely. But uncaring, distant…never.

  I never want that to be me, but if I do become that, I hope to have enough sense to retire. Besides, there are always honeybees to look after in our family, if that were to happen.

  With a slight smile, I walk quietly through Saylor’s apartment, careful not to wake her. I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t a little disappointed she wasn’t waiting up for me, but that’s only because she’s waited up each time I’ve worked a third platoon.

  Hell, this entire marriage should scare us both, but it doesn’t. It’s surprisingly drama-free, even with the random news report about my marriage popping up every so often in Google searches. And while Saylor’s mother is pretty damn famous, I think Saylor herself is so far removed from that life and has been for so long that the media’s forgotten about her.

  I highly doubt the reason the media is burying reports about our marriage is because they’ve forgotten about me. Rather, pressure from the senator and his supporters are promising them something so exclusive that they’re content to wait for the perfect moment to do a front-page lead.

  My phone buzzes and I grab it from my back pocket.

  Senator: Reminder—Brunch at 10:30.

  Me: We’ll be there.

  Senator: Your mother sends her love to the both of you.

  Me: We love her, too.

  I don’t mind including Saylor in on that love. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind, either. She’s so naturally loving anyway. Animals, people, fictional characters…you name it and Saylor can find a reason to love and root for them. Pretty frigging sure it’s one of the best things about her.

  Plopping my ass down on the recliner I had moved to her place, I unlace my boots and tug them off, then stand again, my sore muscles protesting as I move.

  Since Saylor was thoughtful enough to leave a light on for me in the hallway, I don’t have to worry about tripping over Padme.

  A ball of multicolored fluff streaks toward me.

  “Speak of the devil.” I bend down, stroking her fur. “How’s my girl tonight? Watching out for Saylor?”

  She meows and flops down on the floor, giving me her belly.

  “If you let us sleep in, I’ll make sure that you not only get to watch Animal Planet for an hour, you’ll get an entire can of tuna.”

  Padme stares up at me, her almond-shaped green eyes regarding me as if I’m beneath her. It’s a look I’m fully used to, but I press on.

  “Your choice, sweet thing, but just remember how much you loved that tuna the last time I added some honey to it.” I stand, choosing to think the best of a cat bent on making humans cater to her whims.

  Saylor sits up in bed and turns on the lamp as soon as I enter it. “Bribery does not work with Padme.”

  “Worth a try.” I sit beside her, taking in her long, dark hair and flushed-from-sleep cheeks. Her lips are the softest pink and, best of all, she’s wearing one of my T-shirts. “Didn’t mean to wake you up.”

  She smiles at me, leaning in for a kiss. “Missed you.”

  “Missed you, too.” And I did. I truly did miss her. A sliver of panic tries to horn in on our moment but I refuse to give in. “You’re all set to meet my parents tomorrow…er, later this morning?”

  Her soft brown eyes, once sleepy, grow wide. “I’d almost forgotten about that.” There’s a thread of panic in her voice.

  “You’ll be fine.” I stretch out beside her, but she pulls me over, arranging me so that I’m lying on her chest while she strokes my hair. If I were a cat I’d purr, but since I’m a horn dog, I get turned on instead.

  But.

  I lie there all compliant-like in her sweet embrace, breathing in the flowery scent that I’ve come to associate with her and her home.

  “Got you something today,” she says, dangling a silver chain in front of my face. A small medallion of Saint Florian, the patron saint of firefighters, hangs from the end. “I know neither of us prays to saints, but I figure Jesus wouldn’t mind if I asked for extra protection.”

  Laughter spills from my mouth as I twist to look up at her. “Did Evangeline tell you that?” She and Saylor go to the same church and volunteer in the food pantry every Thursday, while I go with my family only when I’m back home.

  It’s a tradition, after all.

  “No, I can make my own decisions without asking her input on everything,” Saylor grumbles, which means they discussed it.

  “Thank you for thinking and worrying about me enough to buy this.”

  “I had it blessed, too. Just in case…extra stuff. Zombies. Vampires…” She bites her lip. “You don’t have to wear it. It’s—”

  I kiss her. “Stop it.” Very deliberately, I sit up and put the chain over my head. The medallion is cool against my skin. “I’ll wear it every time I go in.”

  Wincing a little, she asks, “Are you sure it’s not
too—”

  “It’s one of the best gifts I’ve ever been given.”

  “Oh.”

  I take off my clothes, joining Saylor under the covers and pulling her close to me. “Man, you feel good. Smell good, too.”

  “You smell like a campfire.”

  “Shit. I can take another shower.” I try to leave the bed, but Saylor grabs on to me and I stop. “What?”

  “It was a compliment. You smell like fall. I lo—like it.”

  I stroke her arm, watching as her eyes struggle to stay open. “Fall, huh? Next time, I’ll be sure to bring s’mores home with me.”

  “Sounds yummy.” She smiles sleepily. “I’m really glad you’re home.”

  Turning slightly, I switch off the lamp and snuggle up to my wife again. Wife…I don’t think I’ll ever get used to thinking of Saylor that way.

  Maybe that’s a good thing because I have no clue what she wants out of this marriage. I know what she needs—physical affection and the assurance of my protection.

  And love. Can’t forget that. Don’t know what to do with that, either. Hell, I’ve barely scratched the surface of what makes Saylor Saylor. She’s like an open book with half the chapters written in a language I can’t decipher.

  But, I’ve always loved a challenge.

  However, in less than nine hours, we will be facing my family and the senator will have an entire list of questions prepared in advance. He won’t settle for anything less than the Rosetta stone to crack her open.

  Which is why I’ll make good on my promise to protect her.

  —

  We’ve just arrived at my mother’s favorite restaurant and are next in line for the valet when Saylor suddenly gets cold feet.

  “You should go in without me. I’m not dressed right.”

  Saylor’s wearing a yellow sundress with white lace on the hem. Her hair is pulled back at the temples, highlighting her beautiful face. She looks so temptingly sweet that my teeth ache from looking at her.

  “I disagree.”

  “That’s because you’re a man and this dress is a little too snug, which makes my boobs look huge and you like that.” She tugs on her dress, on her hair, and then takes off her glasses, only to put them back on again. “I bought it two weeks ago and it fit perfectly.”

  I grab her hands, finding them cold and trembling in my grasp. “You look beautiful and I would never lie to you about what you’re wearing. If it wasn’t appropriate, I’d let you know the proper dress code. The last thing I want for you to feel is embarrassed.”

  As if to prove her point, she nods at a group of well-dressed ladies teetering on high heels as they walk inside, then points at her shoes—a pair of yellow heels decorated with a large Star Trek combadge on the toe of each one. “See, I’m not dressed like them.”

  “Trust me when I say that you have nothing to worry about.”

  She bites her lip, then sighs thickly. “I’ll trust you.”

  The valet helps Saylor out of the Escalade while I hand over the keys. We’re ushered inside to my parents’ usual table.

  My mom’s face lights up when she sees us, while the senator is notoriously impassive. However, they both stand and I shake my father’s hand.

  Instead of hugging me first, my mom goes straight to Saylor and hugs her tightly. “Welcome to the family, Saylor.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Walker.”

  “Call me Georgiana.”

  “You hug just like my momma…Georgiana.”

  My mom’s eyes twinkle when she steps back. “What a wonderful compliment. I’ve always been an admirer of your mother’s work, especially when she visited Cambodia to bring attention to the plight of the children.”

  “I was with her when she visited. We ended up living there for a year, I think. I was only five so I don’t remember too much about it.”

  And that was something I didn’t know.

  “Great to finally meet you, Ms. Dean,” the senator says, and I narrow my eyes at him. “Don’t take it as an insult that she hasn’t changed her name, son.”

  “I…I haven’t had the time to do the paperwork for it.”

  The senator’s face softens, just a little. “Running a business doesn’t leave a lot of time for extra paperwork. If you’ll allow my team to take care of it, I will expedite the process.”

  Saylor glances at me, her brown eyes wide. “If that’s okay with Hayden, then it’s okay with me.”

  “We’d appreciate that,” I reply, even though I know the real reason he offered. He’s testing us, testing Saylor to see if she’s really in this. If she’s ready to be called a Walker, too.

  That might sound trivial to most people, but that’s how it works in our world. Image and name, which now people call a brand, is everything.

  My mom finally turns her attention to me, kissing my cheek. “Thank you for agreeing to meet us.”

  A lump forms in my throat. I hate the way she sounds in this moment, like I’ve just done her a favor. “You know how schedules are. We have two to work with, so…hopefully, in the future, we can plan more brunches when you’re in town.”

  The server comes by our table to take our orders, but as soon as the woman is gone, the senator starts digging.

  “How did the two of you meet?”

  “Best friend’s wedding,” I snap.

  “I was one of the bridesmaids and your son was one of the groomsmen,” Saylor chimes in. “The wedding was beautiful, Georgiana.”

  My mother smiles at that, but before she can comment, my dad is at it again.

  “But not the best man?”

  Saylor grabs my hand under the table and squeezes. “Well, to be fair, Hunter could hardly have Jake feeling left out.”

  My mother takes a sip of her water. “Who is Jake?”

  “Hunter’s dog. He was actually the best man, but crowds scare him, so he stayed home,” Saylor says.

  I bite back a smile at my parents’ twin expressions of what is this world coming to. “Don’t worry, Padme wasn’t allowed to be in ours since she wasn’t invited to Tijuana.”

  “Oh, that is good,” my mom says faintly.

  “Padme is Saylor’s cat.”

  “This wedding in Tijuana—was it legal?” the senator suddenly asks, putting me on the defensive.

  “I texted you an image of the paperwork.”

  “Seems rather sudden and strange.”

  “It only seems that way because you didn’t have a say in it,” I point out.

  The senator frowns. “What are your plans for the future, Saylor…once the two of you have children?”

  I nearly choke on my water.

  “Bishop Walker,” my mother gasps, hitting my father on the arm. “Hush!”

  “It’s a perfectly reasonable question. Someone will have to take the brunt of the childcare duties.”

  Why is he being such an ass to her? This is too much, even for him.

  Saylor squirms in her seat. “We might not have kids.”

  “But if we do,” I begin, “I’ll stay home with them.”

  Saylor’s head jerks around so fast that she almost topples out of her seat. “You will?”

  “Sure. Why should a man be the breadwinner? Equal rights and all that.” Now I sound like an ass.

  “Indeed,” the senator agrees. “What does your father have to say about your marriage to my son?”

  Saylor’s cheeks turn bright red. “He has nothing to say.”

  “I’m sure your mother’s proud. Seems to be keeping company with many a political figure herself these days.”

  Saylor lets out a shaky breath. “My momma is…she…”

  “You don’t have to defend her,” I say to Saylor before turning my attention to the senator. “That is enough out of you. Either respect my wife and her family, or we’re done.”

  “You’d choose this woman, who you’ve only known for two months, over your family?”

  Before I can answer, Saylor lets go of my hand and pushes back her chai
r. “If you’ll excuse me.”

  The senator and I stand, waiting until she’s taken a couple of steps before we sit again, but I keep an eye on her until she disappears into the ladies’ room.

  “What is wrong with you?” my mom hisses at him. “You are being uncommonly rude to that poor girl.”

  “If Saylor wants to be in this family, she’ll have to get used to people judging her every action on social media. The press won’t be any help; they love a good scandal—and a marriage in Tijuana is certainly scandalous.”

  “Be that as it may, the two of you, and yes, Hayden, I’m including you in this, were horrible. I expect a sincere apology when she returns.”

  The senator looks at me. “I wasn’t being intentionally rude to your wife, but that’s the kind of bullshit questions she’ll get and the two of you need to be prepared to answer them.”

  “That was a fucking test?” I all but growl, then take a deep breath. “Please excuse my language, Mom.”

  “You merely said what I was thinking.” My mom stands. Automatically, we start to rise, but she waves us down. “You two sit here and work things out while I check on my daughter-in-law.”

  The senator exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “She’s a very pretty girl, intelligent, and charming as well, but the press is going to eat her alive if you don’t prepare her for this life.”

  He’s sincere. Really sincere. “About that…I want to renegotiate the terms of our agreement.”

  His blue eyes rake over me, fire glinting in them. He is not pleased. “And those would be?”

  “Leave her out of this. She’s private and shy. I want your word that she will never be required to go to any political event. Ever. She had no idea what she signed up for when we got married.”

  “You expect me to believe she had no clue who you were when y’all eloped in Tijuana?”

  “I do because it’s the truth. She had no idea—said politics aren’t her thing. Is that so hard to believe?”

  “You might have a point….According to the latest data, most young people can’t even name our first president, even when shown his picture.” He pauses as our food is delivered to the table. “What will you do in return, should I decide to agree to your request?”