Fall in Love Book Bundle: Small Town Romance Box Set

by Grover Swank, Denise

Jesus Christ, this girl.

  I pressed a slow kiss to her lips and whispered, “I fucking cherish you.”

  She smiled against the kiss, her head shaking slowly. “That mouth.”

  “You like my mouth.”

  “I do.” She tilted her head to give me another swift kiss, then said, “Now, please put me down before you drop me.”

  I feigned offense, even though she should’ve known I would never drop her, and set her on her feet.

  Once she was settled, she sighed in relief, and that smile that always tugged at my chest crossed her face.

  But just when she was about to say something, her attention caught on something behind me and everything about her deflated.

  Her smile.

  Her stance.

  Her expression.

  I reached for her just as someone called out, “Great game, Sawyer.”

  I glanced over my shoulder in time to see a few of our cheerleaders passing by. I nodded in their direction and started looking back at my girl again when the one in the middle stepped toward me.

  Hailey.

  “You’re coming tonight, right?”

  I glanced from the girls to Leighton and back again. My girl looked fucking wrecked, and the three beside me looked like they were enjoying every second of it. “Party’s at your place this week?”

  Hailey smirked. “Like you didn’t know.”

  I hadn’t.

  An uneasy laugh climbed up my throat when her eyes narrowed on Leighton and slowly took her in. As if Hailey didn’t know her, as if we weren’t all from the same microscopic town, as if we hadn’t all gone to school together since we were five.

  Curling an arm around Leighton, I pulled her close to my side and began leading her away. “Hadn’t, actually,” I said casually. “And I think we have other plans.”

  I called out a goodbye to our group of friends and snatched my bag as we walked, tossing it into the bed of my truck once we got there. Leighton hadn’t said a word and was holding herself so damn stiff.

  Leading her around to the passenger side, I opened the door but stopped with my back to it and turned to face her. “All right, I need you to tell me what the hell just happened.”

  Her brows pulled tight, but the action was slow as if she were somewhere else entirely. “Nothing,” she said numbly.

  “Bullshit.” I cradled my hands against her cheeks and forced her to look at me. “Babe, you were fine before they walked up, and now you aren’t. What happened . . . have they said something to you?”

  “No.” She tried to move from my grasp, but I held tight. “They haven’t.”

  “Then talk to me,” I nearly begged. “Because the girl I found in the parking lot is not the same one I’m looking at right now.”

  She sighed and tried simultaneously pulling my hands away and backing up.

  “Leighton.”

  “It’s them,” she whispered, the words full of so much pain and shame and holding so much weight they had the same impact as if she’d screamed. “It’s them and the girls at school. It’s always someone, Sawyer.”

  I floundered for a second as I tried to follow her train of thought. “What do you mean?”

  “And it will always be someone,” she continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “When you go to college, it will be a hundred times worse. When you go pro?”

  My heart wrenched when her eyes filled with tears that quickly spilled over.

  “How am I supposed to compete with that when I can’t even compete with the girls here?” she asked, the words broken and thick with emotion.

  “Are you fucking kid—compete—what?” I stared at her as shock and confusion pulsed through me. “You think you’re competing?” I released her and let myself fall back against the open door, scrubbing my hands over my face as I did. “There will always be other girls in the world, Leighton, but none of them are you.”

  “But I don’t look like them,” she cried out.

  Everything in me stilled when her words and the way she was slightly hunched and curling her arms around herself—hiding herself—finally registered.

  Anger bled from me and coated my words when I said, “This better be a sick fucking joke.”

  Her eyes met mine and pled with me to understand.

  “Do not compare yourself to another girl.” The demand was nothing more than a rumble in my chest as I pushed from the door. Gripping her hands in mine, I forced them away from her body and up, pinning them to my truck so she was arched back and exposed. “Don’t ever believe I want someone who isn’t you. And don’t you ever trick yourself into thinking that everything about you isn’t every goddamn thing I want.”

  Her body that molded perfectly against mine.

  Her long, ruby-red hair that was so damn curly and uncontrollable and made her eyes that much brighter.

  The freckles splashed across her cheeks that I counted when she didn’t realize I was watching her.

  And that mouth that was made to be kissed by me.

  Gathering both of her wrists together, I let my free hand move down her body, teasing and gripping her, filling my fingers with curves I knew like the back of my hand before pulling her closer so she could feel exactly how much I wanted her.

  She let out a shuddering breath, a hint of alarm filling her shining eyes. “Sawyer, there are people.”

  “I don’t give a fuck. I need to know you hear me.”

  Her head fell to my chest. “That mouth . . .”

  “Leighton.”

  “I hear you,” she whispered.

  I released my grip on her so I could tilt her head back. Searching her shattered stare, I begged, “Believe me.”

  After a moment of hesitation, she nodded.

  She might as well have just said no.

  But there was no competition with Leighton. There never had been.

  How could she not see that?

  Chapter 6

  Rae

  I was positive I’d just had the best sleep of my life.

  The after-dinner coffee had only been able to keep me going so long. The moment my head hit the pillow, the exhaustion from the past couple of days had consumed me, pulling me into a deep sleep. Then again, this oddly perfect bed might’ve had something to do with it.

  Not so comfy I felt like I was sinking, and not so firm I felt like I was dying. They’d literally found a Goldilocks bed and put it in my room.

  I never wanted to leave it.

  I was already contemplating how to take it with me when I left this Mayberry of a town. Because, you know, theft was so much easier than just asking the owners where they’d bought the mattress.

  Then again . . . strapping a mattress down to my car every time I moved still didn’t seem like my idea of fun, Goldilocks or not.

  I trailed my hand along the bed and whispered, “Guess I’ll enjoy you while I can.”

  An intoxicating mixture of savory and sweet teased my nose, promising something delicious and just as comforting as the bed I was lying in. It was one of the only things that could have pulled me from my haven.

  Then my phone chimed.

  And again.

  And again.

  All thoughts of a home-cooked meal fled my mind as I let my eyes close on a mumbled curse.

  I ran a hand over my face, rubbing at one of my eyes as I did.

  Now that I wasn’t an unhealthy mixture of exhausted and wired from no sleep and too much caffeine, I knew I needed to go over everything. I needed to come to terms with what I had done, what I was doing, and what I had been smacked in the face with.

  The longer I put it all off, the longer it would continue to torment me.

  And that wasn’t me, I didn’t allow things to haunt me and control my life. I dealt with them, said goodbye to them, and that was the end of it.

  Well, except one thing . . . but she had never controlled me.

  All I wanted was for her to look me in the eyes as she gave me one answer. Once I had it, I would deal, say goodbye, an
d be done with it.

  After waiting for that moment for so long, it was finally within my grasp. As overwhelming as that knowledge was, I couldn’t be sure if I wanted to draw it out or just get it over with.

  The knife lodged in my back in the form of a name begged me to draw it out. The kick to the stomach that shock had been made me want to leave without going through it at all.

  Fucking Emberly.

  My phone chimed again and I let out a pained breath.

  With each call and text that I’d let go unanswered the past two days, the ache in my chest had only continued to grow. Not for me, never for me, but for him.

  I hated that he was going through this. I hated that he’d gotten so deep that I’d hurt him this badly, and I hated that I hadn’t put an end to us long before.

  I reached toward the bedside table and grabbed my phone.

  Once I had it in my grasp, I pushed myself up to sitting and brushed my wild hair out of my face as I opened the messages from this morning.

  Jack: Rae, talk to me.

  Jack: Please.

  Jack: I scared you. I see that now. Come back and we’ll slow things down.

  Jack: God, Rae, please. Don’t do this.

  “I told you not to fall in love with me,” I whispered to the phone as I cleared his messages.

  Just before I closed out the screen, his name stole across it as my phone began ringing.

  “I’m so sorry,” I mumbled as I silenced the ring. Then I watched, waiting until the voicemail picked up.

  Once it had, I went to his contact and scrolled down to block his number.

  After, I went through my mental list, as if on autopilot: Checking to ensure my location services were disabled, even though I was sure I had turned it off on my phone and computer the day before; then going through all social media and blocking him on there as well.

  It was callous.

  I knew that . . .

  But running was what I did. Tearing myself from people who grew too attached until they were forced to let me go and forget me was all I knew.

  It was in my blood. It was the only way I knew how to respond to love.

  It was probably why I wrote stories of women who stayed with the men who fell in love with them. Who had the capability of loving, too.

  Because I couldn’t, and I didn’t.

  Once I was done, I let my phone fall to the bed and loosed a weighted breath. “Goodbye, Jack.”

  Just as quickly, I scooped my phone up again and hurried to open one of the social media apps. I hadn’t posted anything yesterday or the day before, and I knew my readers would probably start wondering what had happened to me if I didn’t soon.

  I was sure their minds wouldn’t go the creepy-old-man-basement route, but, still . . .

  I made myself readily available to them, just as I made the life I wanted them to see available to them.

  They hadn’t known about Jack, just as they hadn’t known about any guy before him. There wasn’t a need, the men were never supposed to reach a serious level. So, there was no reason for them to think today was anything other than a normal day.

  I loaded the picture I’d taken and edited the day before of the pretty latte I’d bought at Brewed, then hurried to type a caption and posted it everywhere.

  A certain character is being super demanding this morning, but first . . . coffee.

  I glanced over at where I’d left my laptop charging the night before and grimaced. There were characters talking, begging to get their words out . . . that was nothing new.

  But my hero had somehow turned into a dark-haired, glacial-blue-eyed man with a drawl after my embarrassing encounter with Sawyer yesterday, and it irritated me to no end that I only saw him that way anymore.

  I wanted my hero to go back to how he’d been.

  I didn’t want Sawyer’s dimples and his infuriating moods clouding up my mind and changing my characters and fueling the dreams of the best sleep of my life.

  A breath rushed from my lungs as the memory of his hands gripping my shoulders sent a flash of heat through me.

  Stupid. Stupid memory, stupid boy with dimples, stupid all the things.

  A frustrated groan slipped free as I finally climbed off the bed.

  I definitely needed coffee first.

  Chapter 7

  Sawyer

  Savannah’s gaze darted my way when I entered the kitchen again, an amused grin tugging at her mouth as I dragged Wyatt from my leg while Quinn clung to my neck. When I stopped near one of the large islands, despite the protests of my niece and nephew, the grin faded and she cut me a look. One of those looks that said she could take me down even though she was over a foot shorter than me.

  “As much as I love having you here, eating all my food, I’m sure you have better things to do.”

  I shrugged. “Afraid I don’t.”

  Her whiskey-colored eyes narrowed from where she’d been checking on the food—the food I had yet to touch. “You mean to tell me not one person in this town needs something fixed?”

  “It’s still early, give them time to have something break.” I started walking backward when the kids’ pleas for another trek around the house only grew louder. “But the message from Beau was clear that I had a job to finish here first, and I’d rather keep the appendage he threatened.” I smirked when her eyes rolled, and turned to zombie-drag my niece and nephew all over the house again, only to stop cold.

  Fuck me.

  I’d known. I’d known when Beau texted me first thing this morning that the chances of seeing her again were high. Too high considering the reason Beau was pissed was that the fan in her room still wasn’t working

  But I’d come up with about a half dozen things to convince myself it would be okay.

  Like she would already be out of the house. Or, if she wasn’t, I would see her again and realize whatever the hell happened yesterday had been nothing more than a product of her being new.

  But as she stood in the large archway to the kitchen, bright eyes locked on me like I might be a hallucination, and looking better than I’d allowed myself to remember, I knew I was in trouble.

  She was wearing thin, stretchy pants that perfectly displayed every one of her soft curves. The shoulder that was bared from her shirt had my fingers itching to touch her there—to reveal even more of her skin. Her hair was a disaster in a way that made me want to take her to bed so I could mess it up some more . . . and I needed to look away.

  I needed to put an end to every thought burning images in my mind.

  I needed to remember what I’d been telling myself all yesterday and this morning.

  She was nothing. I wasn’t attracted to her. She wasn’t my type.

  She couldn’t be.

  “Zombie, Uncle Saw,” Wyatt cried out from where he was waiting on the floor, effectively grounding me in the present.

  At that same moment, Savannah saw the girl. “Oh, you’re up,” she said excitedly. “I was about to put breakfast away, so you’re just in time.”

  The girl lifted a hand as she stepped deeper into the kitchen. “Oh no, don’t . . . you don’t have to do that for me. Continue with what you were doing, I’m fine. I was really just on the hunt for coffee.”

  “And food,” I said, my voice soft but no less firm. When she looked at me questioningly, I nodded toward the food. “Eat.”

  The girl blew out a huff, her head shaking as she did. “Goodness, you and food. I do know how to feed myself, you know.”

  “Could’ve fooled me.”

  Despite the frustration leaking through my tone, her mouth slowly lifted in a grin. “I’ve worked hard for these thighs, sweetheart,” she began, sneering the last word. “Trust me, I eat just fine.”

  It took every ounce of willpower not to look down at those thighs. “Just eat.”

  “Sawyer,” Savannah hissed, her tone at once disapproving and pleading.

  When I was finally able to tear my attention from the girl, Savannah was shaking her
head and mouthing for me to stop, but her eyes were filled with a long-past pain that I felt in my soul.

  “You don’t have to eat,” Savannah said to the girl, but her stare remained on me, silently daring me to go against her. I forced myself to leave before I could say anything else, niece and nephew still hanging on or from me, Savannah’s voice following me as I did. “But as I told you when you checked in, I make breakfast for the guests every morning. I just wasn’t sure if you’d be down, and it’s getting about that time where I usually start putting it away. However, I have homemade biscuits and sausage gravy. I also have some fresh fruit. And, of course, we have plenty of coffee.”

  After making a couple zombie laps with the kids, I disentangled myself from them and headed back toward the kitchen. But when I got there, Savannah was gone and the girl was sitting at the large kitchen table, staring out the bay windows with a cup of coffee in hand . . .

  And a plate in front of her.

  Just as I rocked back to go search for Savannah, the girl said, “It’s a little intense.” After a second, she shifted her head to look at me. “The way you’ve demanded a stranger eat food.”

  My jaw clenched as so many things that needed to remain buried tried rising to the surface.

  “Are you like this with everyone?”

  There wasn’t a way to answer without making this worse or revealing a past that wasn’t her business. “Food is important,” I finally said.

  From the way her eyebrows rose and surprise stole across her face, she heard the depth in my words . . . the way I was struggling to take a goddamn breath. “I’m aware it is,” she said softly. A moment passed before the corner of her mouth twitched in a wry grin. “As I said, I’ve worked hard for these thighs.”

  I couldn’t stop myself that time.

  From taking her in.

  From letting my stare move over her like a man starved . . .

  “But you don’t know me from Eve,” she continued, and my gaze snapped to hers. “You don’t exactly have a say over my life—including when or if I eat.”