Falling Free ( Falling Fast #3)

by Tina Wainscott

  He’d never had a mine before, someone who belonged to him. He’d been too afraid that she’d walk away. And, to be honest, he’d never wanted a woman to be his before. But Grace, she edged into his soul and snuggled deep inside.

  “Thank you for seducing me by not seducing me,” she said, drawing lazy circles on his chest.

  “Are you accusing me of being calculating?” He started to lift his head. “Do you still think I’m a player?”

  “No, not at all. I just love that you didn’t push, didn’t set a goal to finish what we started.”

  “It wouldn’t have worked anyway. I could see that. Look at me, Grace.” As she scooted closer, he said, “I honestly wanted to be your friend. The fact that I find you sexy as hell—well, that was really more of a complication. I just wanted to make you smile.”

  She studied him. “Truth. I think.”

  He touched her chin. “Truth.” There were things he couldn’t tell her, though. Things he hadn’t figured out himself, like the way his throat thickened when he talked to her like this. The way his chest filled with what felt like helium whenever he touched her. And the way the wall careened closer when he thought about leaving.

  She leaned forward and planted a kiss on his stomach. “I want more of this. More of you. I’m not ready to let you go yet.”

  He smiled, remembering how he’d admitted the same about her. He twined his fingers with hers. “Me, either.”

  “This feels so good—you, me. I haven’t felt this way in…well, I’m not even sure when. If ever. But I don’t want Raleigh, Pax, or the girls to know that we’re involved. I don’t want them thinking that I’m fooling around with a guy who’s going to be hitting the road before long. Because at first Mia and Gemma will be all, ‘Ooh, that’s so cool!’ And then when you’re gone they’ll be all, ‘Have you Skyped? When is he coming back?’ I just don’t want to field those questions.”

  There was that wall again, with his tires vibrating so hard that he was sure they were coming off. “This doesn’t have to—”

  She pressed her fingers to his mouth. “Don’t. Please, don’t make promises about calling and visiting. Because you might actually mean it in the moment. And I might believe you. Let me just be with this as it is.”

  His heart caved at the emotion in her eyes, her voice. He understood all too well. If no one made any promises, they couldn’t break them. And break your heart. No one could hurt you by not trying to find you, or by leaving because they found stealing your valuables more important than being with you. But he couldn’t tell her how much he understood, couldn’t voice it, because the words would break him. So he took her fingers from his mouth and kissed them one at a time.

  “Okay,” he whispered, because that’s how it came out.

  She glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand. “We should probably get going. I have to get back—”

  “By four,” he interrupted; he wanted her to know that he remembered. “What’s so important?”

  The way her face closed up just a bit was completely at odds with the casual shrug of one shoulder. “A friend’s softball game.”

  It wasn’t just a friend, though. He could see it in the brief glimmer of her eyes. Plus, she hadn’t invited him. That could not be jealousy poking at his chest, right? He didn’t think so, but he’d never experienced it before. Jealous of kids who had nice homes, yeah. Jealous of guys who had cars when he was thousands of dollars away from owning one. But never over a woman.

  “That works for me. I need to do some practice runs, work on the car. Keep drumming up interest in the drift event this Friday night. Hey, we could use some help. Ticket sales. Concessions.”

  “I’d like that.”

  He stroked the curve of her smile. “You don’t look hungover at all. I’ve never seen someone get that drunk and not be dragging—or worse—the next morning.”

  She gave him a sheepish wince as she climbed out of bed and found her T-shirt. “I wasn’t really drunk.”

  He sat up and planted his feet on the floor. “But you were wobbling, and wild, and kissing me.”

  “I was buzzed, for sure. My guy friends always teased me about how I could drink them under the table.” She leaned against the wall, rolling her lips together as she waited….

  “You pretended you were drunk?” He pushed to his feet.

  “A little. It made it easier to let loose. And…”

  “You were testing me,” he finished, saying what she couldn’t say. “To see if I’d honor your wishes.”

  “A little,” she said again, still wincing.

  “Do you know how painful that was for me, you draped all over me?”

  “I didn’t intentionally set out to deceive you. It just sort of happened, feeling loose and free and then seeing you trying to honor my request, and I wondered…if I came on to you, would you continue to do so?”

  The knot in his stomach tightened. “I thought you trusted me.”

  “How can I trust you when I don’t even trust myself?”

  He understood, and yet he didn’t. Now he’d need to go over everything she did and said, everything he had done, knowing that she’d been analyzing every bit of it. He stalked into the bathroom. When he came out a few minutes later, she was sitting on the edge of the bed. Contrite, legs crossed, hands on her knees.

  “I’m sorry, Tanner. I didn’t mean to make you angry. I needed to know for sure if I could trust you.”

  He resisted the urge to sit beside her. “You tortured me to prove the point.”

  “I felt terrible about teasing you again. But I came through this morning.” She forced a smile.

  “Is that why? Out of guilt?”

  “God, no.” She stood now, her contriteness gone. “I gave in because I couldn’t fight it anymore. That was the truth, though it did make me feel a little better about what I’d done to you the night before.”

  “Look, I get your trust issues, I do. But I hate being a pawn while you try to work them out. I’ll tell you lies, tell you the truth, play your game…when I know it’s a fucking game.” He jerked on his pants, then the shirt he’d bought last night, rage sluicing over him. Why was he so angry at her? He did understand. And he’d passed her test, but the fact that she’d doubted him that much ate away at him.

  She touched his shoulder, and he flinched and stalked off. “I’m going to get coffee at the café next door. Then we should get going.”

  “I’m sorry, Tanner. It was stupid of me. Please don’t be angry.”

  Maybe anger was good. It would make it easier for him to leave.

  He grabbed his keys and his wallet and went to the door. Paused, taking a deep breath to dispel some of the pain and anger. “So that thing you said about why you left me on the beach last week…” He turned to face her. “Was that true?”

  Her eyes widened. “What did I say?”

  “Come on, don’t play coy with me now. You weren’t drunk.”

  She twisted a lock of her hair over her shoulder. “No, but I was buzzed. And tired. Crash-and-burn tired. I don’t even remember talking about that. What did I tell you?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’ll be back in a few.”

  Chapter 10

  Grace threw a pillow at the door a few seconds after Tanner had closed it. Then she threw the other one.

  “Stupid, stupid, stupid.” She wasn’t calling him names, only herself. For admitting she’d faked being drunk or for doing it to begin with; she wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter; she’d done it. And no, it hadn’t been intentional. She’d felt herself falling, not only falling free but falling hard…for him. And she’d wanted him to fail. To make it stop. Thank God she hadn’t admitted that.

  She’d wanted him to reveal that he was a bastard like everyone else, that he would let her down without a moment’s hesitation. When he hadn’t, she fell even more for him. Sleeping in the hard, warm confines of his body all night felt completely right. As she’d slipped into dreams, she decided she would initia
te lovemaking in the morning, when he could be sure she wasn’t drunk.

  And making love—could she actually call it sex?—had been as amazing and addictive as she’d feared that night she ran away from him.

  So, actually, it was good that he was mad at her. Good that she had inadvertently put a wedge between them, because otherwise she’d have blown off the rest of the day just to stay right here. In his bed, in his arms.

  But, dammit, she really couldn’t remember answering his question about why she’d run off.

  He had every right to be angry, but it was far worse than that—she’d hurt him. He was covering it with his anger, but she’d cut him with her deception. After everything he’d done for her, that was unforgivable.

  She heard her phone ringing and ran into her room to answer. Hoping it was Tanner, until she remembered that he didn’t have her number, nor did she have his.

  It was a collect call. From the very man who had trashed her trust so completely, shattered her faith in herself. And she was in the perfect mood to deal with him. She accepted the call as she stepped out on the balcony. People already littered the beach, setting up their towels and chairs and coolers.

  “Thank you for taking my call, honey,” he said as soon as the operator clicked off.

  “Don’t call me honey. I only answered to tell you to stop calling me. I need some time to process this. Do you know what you did to me? What you’ve done since the day the police came to our door and hauled you away? And you promised—promised!—that you were innocent. That it was an accident.”

  “I know, I know. I’m a terrible, horrible father.”

  “You weren’t even a father to me,” she said, emotion straining her voice. “You were in my life for eight years, and yes, you were a good dad for that short period. But you killed a man, and then you let your little girl fight and fight and fight for you.” She swiped at the tears that spilled from her eyes. They didn’t count if you caught them before they could fall. “I became a lawyer for you. Seven years of school, working my ass off to pay what the scholarships didn’t cover. Work and school, year after year.”

  Except for when Patrick took advantage of her pitiful need for love and tumbled her every which way. But her father didn’t know about any of that.

  “I’m so sorry, honey. Birdie.”

  “You crushed my confidence in my ability. I can’t even trust my judgment, and because of that I just hurt someone.” She scrubbed her fingers through her hair, squeezing her eyes shut against the burning. “I need time, Dad. Please, give that to me, since I’ve given you so much of my time. I need to go.” She disconnected, taking several deep breaths to calm her emotions. She didn’t want to be a wreck when Tanner eventually came back.

  “Your father?”

  So much for that. She closed her eyes at the sound of him right behind her, of the shock in those words. She wiped her eyes before turning to find him there, dispelling the last hope that she was imagining his voice.

  She leaned back against the railing. “I thought you were getting coffee.”

  “I came back to ask you what you wanted. And I thought your father was dead.”

  “I never told you he was dead; you inferred it. And I let you. The same way I let everyone think that.”

  Great. Now he was adding that lie of omission to the deception she’d played on him last night.

  He pressed against the sliding glass door, pinching the bridge of his nose. With his eyes briefly closed, she let herself drink him in, with his PCB T-shirt that molded his chest, his cargo pants tight on his hips, and told herself that she would not be seeing him again. That he would wisely decide that she was too trust-challenged to even screw around with for a week.

  She folded her arms over her chest, armor. “You think I want everyone to know that my father’s spending life in prison for murdering a man? It’s a secret I’ve managed to keep, because it happened before my mother and I moved to Chambliss. People are sympathetic when they think your father died. They look at you as though there’s something wrong with you when they know why he’s not around.”

  Tanner lowered his hand, meeting her gaze. Nodding as though he’d been given the confirmation he needed to drop her off at the car lot and head back to the track. “That’s why you ditched the license plate. His nickname for you.”

  “How’d you know I ditched the plate?”

  “I was in the garage when you came to pick up the T-bird, remember? And now it makes sense, why you’re so anxious to dump the car. Why you’re angry at him. And why you have trust issues.”

  She pushed away from the railing and walked inside, throwing back, “Yeah, that’s why I’m fucked up. Now you know it all. How my most important client lied to me and I stupidly believed him.”

  He followed her. “Your most important client? Try the most important man in your life.”

  “Whatever.” She got dressed, trying not to care that he was standing there. It didn’t matter; they’d seen every inch of each other’s body. “I believed my father, among the other stupid things I’ve done in my life.” When Tanner flinched, his beautiful eyes shadowing, she felt compelled to add, “And no, I don’t include what we did this morning as one of those things.”

  The tension in his face eased. “Why didn’t you tell me when you were talking about the client who threw you into this identity crisis? Did you seriously think I’d tell anyone if you asked me not to?”

  She focused on fastening her sandals. “Like you said, trust issues. Trusting myself more than anyone else.” Because he looked so wounded, which lanced her, she found herself saying, “It’s my business. I don’t owe you every sordid detail of my life.”

  “No, you don’t owe me anything.” He’d said it in a low monotone that sank her heart.

  She stood. “Still want the T-bird? If you bought it out of some well-meaning idea that I might want it back, I’ll release you from the sale.”

  He pursed his lips for a second, glanced away, but didn’t answer.

  “Oh, God, you did, didn’t you?”

  “I knew you were selling it out of emotional duress and that you might regret it later. So yeah, I figured I’d buy it and sell it back if you changed your mind. And if you didn’t I could sell it, no problem.”

  His admission stole the words, the breath, everything from her. “I was kidding. I didn’t really think you…” She swallowed hard. God, this man. Thank goodness he saw how screwed up she was. “Where do you get the money to just buy a car out of charity?”

  His eye twitched. “It wasn’t charity. I know a dozen guys who’d buy it from me.”

  He was maddening. Amazingly, wonderfully maddening. She stalked past him, noting that he hadn’t answered her question about the money.

  “Fine, if you’re sure.” She picked up her purse and her dirty clothes and stuffed them in the bag from the store. Last night, when she’d been carefree and…happy. So friggin’ happy.

  But she knew, had known then, that it was temporary. Might as well kill it before she got attached. More attached. “We should go. If you want to drop me off at the car lot and head back, I’ll understand.”

  He grabbed his laundry and tossed it in another bag, then opened the door for her. “I told you I’d go through the process, check out the car. I’m going to do that.”

  She paused before stepping through, standing in front of him. “Why can’t you just be a jerk and drop me off?”

  “I don’t roll that way, Grace. Shit, I couldn’t even go get coffee without feeling bad that I hadn’t asked if you wanted one. And you want to know where I got my money?”

  “No. Yes.” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

  He flipped one finger out of his clenched fist. “I inherited it from my eccentric aunt.” Another finger. “I won the lottery when I was twenty.” And a third. “I ran a stolen-car operation when I was younger and invested the proceeds wisely. Which one?”

  Grace closed his fingers back into his fist. “None of
them.”

  She walked out, even though she wanted to stay and force him to tell her the truth. How fair was that when she hadn’t done the same? When she’d played the lying game, as he had accused her of doing, without telling him.

  What she really wanted to know was what she’d told him about her reason for running off. Why couldn’t she remember? Had she actually been more inebriated than she realized?

  She had the terrible feeling that she’d revealed more than she meant to. More than even she knew.

  When they reached the T-bird, he crooked his fingers and opened his palm. “I’m driving. Since it is my car, after all.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “You’re just being incorrigible now.”

  “Yep.” He extended his hand. “Keys.”

  She shoved them at him. And, damn it all, it was sexier than hell. No, he’s just done being nice and letting me control things. Rightfully so.

  She’d broken something between them, and it hurt. But better it hurt now than hurt a lot more later, and she feared that she’d been fooling herself by thinking she could have an affair with him and easily let him go.

  He lowered the roof and drove exactly two hundred yards to the coffee shop, probably the one he’d been going to when he came right back.

  Once they were on the road, each with a coffee in hand, he headed toward the car lot. Luckily, yesterday’s salesman wasn’t there, and they started fresh with someone new.

  After the introductions, Michael, who was about her age, asked, “And you’re…looking for a family car?”

  “No, we’re not married,” Tanner said. “We’re…” He glanced at her in the What the hell are we? way.

  “Friends,” she said. Friends who were angry and knotted up. Friends who’d just had amazing sex. She turned back to Michael. “I want to drive the copper Mustang.”

  She drove the car again, alone, just to make sure it wasn’t Tanner’s presence that had made it so alluring. Well, he had certainly added to it, but this time she focused on how the car handled. On its power. She liked that, a car that could move. And, more important, how it moved her. It made her feel.