Fall With Me

by J. Lynn

  “Should I be worried?” He faced me fully.

  “Huh?”

  The grin was full of boyish charm. “Do I have competition?”

  It took me another moment to get what he meant, and a laugh burst out of me as I glanced at the flowers. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  The flowers had to be from Dean, and that meant even though I hadn’t responded to any of the four texts he sent me, he still hadn’t gotten the message.

  “I’m going to have to do something about that,” Reece said, leaning against the desk. He crossed his arms, drawing my attention to the shape of his upper arms. “Which reminds me. Back to what I’m going to do with you.” His blue eyes glimmered.

  My mind jumped in the gutter.

  “I didn’t drive here tonight,” he announced.

  “You didn’t?”

  “Nope. Went home first. That’s why I wasn’t here earlier. Needed to get changed since I was helping Dad clean out his garage. Then I got Colton to drop me off,” he explained as he tilted his head to the side. His gaze dipped, and I felt it all the way to the tips of my toes. “I’m going home with you tonight.”

  Chapter 9

  My heartbeat had not slowed down a moment since Reece announced he was coming home with me. Nervous energy buzzed throughout my system as I finished up my shift with . . . with Reece sitting at the bar.

  Drinking water.

  It didn’t take long for Jax and Nick to notice that Reece was more waiting by the bar than really hanging out.

  “I feel like I’ve missed something important,” Jax commented dryly as he glanced in my direction and then back at Reece. “Like really missed something.”

  Reece chuckled. “You missed everything.”

  Walking by, Nick snorted.

  Jax raised his brows as he grinned. “Well, it’s about damn time.”

  My mouth dropped open. What the what on a monkey butt?

  Reece nodded as he picked up his glass, eyeing me over the rim. There was that glint again, mischievous and boyish. “Truer words have never been spoken.”

  For once in my life, I was absolutely flabbergasted, which seemed to work for everyone, because between fulfilling drink orders, Jax and Reece chatted it up. I bounced from customer to customer, excited and nervous and hopeful and a thousand other things.

  He was going home with me.

  I was okay with this.

  I was also freaked out about this and what it meant. As I mixed drinks like a bartending ninja, I tried to remember if I shaved my legs that morning. Or if I’d have time to do a quick touch-­up in other areas. These were pressing concerns, because that’s why he had to be coming home with me, right? It wasn’t to knit a blanket at three in the morning.

  Handing over a cocktail to a girl I’d seen in the bar a few times, I stole a quick glance at Reece. His head was bowed and in his hand was his cell phone. My heart stuttered in my chest as it suddenly became hard to swallow. I was totally willing to hook up with him. I mean, I’d wanted to before and this was what ­people our age did, and I’d moved on from what happened that night between us. Just thinking about being with him caused parts of my body to tighten and my breath to shorten. I’d wanted Reece since I first saw him, when I was fifteen.

  Except this would be the first time with him for me, and it would be the second time with me for him, and something was just so wrong about that.

  Plus, was I going to be satisfied with hooking up with Reece and nothing more? I . . . I wasn’t sure. And that was scary. Not because he might not want something more, but because he might, and I didn’t know if I could handle that.

  I focused on getting drinks out to combat the ball of dread building in the pit of my stomach. There was a lot floating around in my head and if I didn’t clear it out, I’d be a mess by the time I got off.

  When I neared Reece and Jax again, the latter stopped me. “I want you to hear this, too.”

  Confused, I propped my elbows on the bar as I stood next to Jax. “Okay?”

  Bright blues eyes fixed on mine. When Reece spoke, his voice was low enough for just us to hear. “I was just telling Jax about the call that came in this week over in Huntington Valley. I know you aren’t watching the news, so you probably haven’t heard about it.”

  “Hey, I watch the news,” I defended myself, but as a bland look crossed his striking face, I sighed. “Okay, well I don’t always listen to it.”

  Jax shook his head. “I hadn’t heard it either. Been busy and haven’t been paying attention to the news, but Reece told me that another girl was attacked.”

  I pressed my hand against my chest. “Oh God. Is . . . is she okay?”

  Reece pursed his lips. “As okay as I guess she could be. She was roughed up and then tied up. From what I heard, the ordeal went on for hours before the guy simply left the vic. Her boyfriend ended up finding her and calling it in. She didn’t get a good look at the guy, but they’re thinking it’s connected to the case in Prussia.”

  “So you aren’t stepping foot outside this bar alone,” Jax stated. “Neither is Calla when she’s here.”

  I shivered as I nodded. God, the idea that someone could be out there stalking girls was more than just creepy. It was horrifying.

  “Hell, I think I’m going to take Calla to the shooting range. Get her permitted.”

  Reece took a drink. “Doesn’t sound like a bad idea.” His gaze flipped to me. “I think you should consider that.”

  “Me? With a gun?” I laughed at the absurdity of it. “I’d end up accidentally shooting myself or some poor, innocent sap. Me and guns do not mix.”

  He reached over, capturing my hand. He tugged me forward, so that my hips were pressed against the bar. His eyes met mine again, and I totally forgot Jax was standing right there. “I want you safe,” he said, his thumb sweeping the inside of my palm and doing funny things to my belly. “And I want you to at least seriously consider protecting yourself. Okay?”

  Reece held on until I nodded and then I ambled off to the other side of the bar in a daze. A little after midnight, some college-­aged guy approached the bar. His smile a little too wide, his step a little too wobbly, he leaned against the bar next to Reece. Immediately, I knew the guy was so not getting another drink. I had no problem cutting off ­people who were stumbling.

  “Hey, baby, you are looking so damn . . . cute,” the guy slurred, blinking slowly as he weaved unsteadily. “Yeah, your glasses. Hot. Like a dirty . . .”

  I raised my brow as I waited.

  “Yeah, dirty girl,” he finished with a laugh. “I bet you are, too.”

  Working in a bar, I’ve heard some stupid pickups, which were usually met with polite disinterest, but that was gross. My mouth opened to deliver a well-­placed verbal put-­down when Reece swiveled on his chair and made eye contact with the guy. Cop Face was back. Except the stern, hard jaw and glinting blue eyes were not directed at me.

  “Apologize,” he ordered.

  Drunk Guy swayed left and then right as he straightened. “What?”

  “Apologize to her,” Reece demanded again.

  “Are you serious?” the guy replied, face ruddy.

  Reece leaned back, raising his brows. “Do I look like I’m fucking joking? You don’t know her at all and you say something like that, you dickhead. Apologize.”

  Absolutely stunned, I watched the guy turn to me and stutter out an “I’m sorry.”

  “Now fuck off,” Reece added.

  The dude fucked right off.

  I turned my wide-­eyed gaze to Reece. “I had that handled.”

  “I know you did.” He picked up his glass of water again and smiled up at me, the picture of freaking innocence. “But I’m not the kind of guy to sit here while some dickhead is being disrespectful. And that was disrespectful.”

  “Totally was impolite,” N
ick commented as he walked behind me.

  “It was,” I said over the sudden cranking of music. My eyes met Reece’s. Part of me wanted to tell him again that I had it handled, because I was woman, hear me roar and all that girl power, but he stood up for me . . . and that was important. It really was important for guys to do that when other guys were getting out of line.

  “Thank you,” I said, smiling a little.

  He sat the glass down and before I knew what he was doing, he placed both hands on the bar top and rose. Stretching over, right in front of everyone in the bar and God, he leaned in, and I thought for a second he’d kiss me, and then I’d melt into a pool of gooey nothingness. He was going right for it. Anticipation swelled sweetly. I was seconds from grabbing his cheeks as my gaze centered on his mouth. I was so ready to melt into that pool.

  Reece didn’t kiss me. He tilted his head at the last moment, placing his lips near my ear. When he spoke, he sent a tight, hot shiver right down my spine. “Two more hours, babe, and you’ll be all mine.”

  On the way to my place, Reece kept the conversation light and flowing. Sticking to a topic such as the stormy forecast for the weekend worked to calm me enough not to drive off the road and plow into a mailbox. Reece, on the other hand, was 100 percent relaxed.

  Every time I peeked over at him, he was the picture of lazy arrogance. Knees bent and spaced wide, one arm rested on his leg, the other against the window. His profile was open, jaw relaxed as his head was tipped back against the headrest. There was a slight, almost knowing grin that settled on his lips.

  My heart was doing jumping jacks by the time I pulled in front of the Victorian. As I turned the key, cutting off the engine, he reached over, folding his long fingers over mine. Surprised, I glanced over at him, my breath stuck in my throat.

  His eyes were the color of midnight in the dark interior of my car. “I’m gonna ask you a question and you’re gonna be honest with me, okay?”

  “Okay,” I whispered.

  He leaned over the center console, keeping his hand on mine. “If you’re not okay with me coming in or staying, I can call a cab. You just tell me when you want me to leave and I’ll leave.”

  Not surprised that he was giving me an out in case I wasn’t kosher with him being in there, I nodded. “Okay.”

  His lips tipped further up on one corner. “But I have a feeling you’re gonna ask me to stay.”

  I drew back, eyes narrowing. “Cocky bastard.”

  “Confident bastard, actually.” With a chuckle at my exasperated look, he slid his hand off mine and climbed out.

  Shaking my head, I followed suit. His long-­legged stride got him to the porch before me and he opened the storm door. Grinning at him, I unlocked the door. “Such a gentleman,” I told him.

  “After you,” he said.

  I stepped into the silent, cool house, letting out a tiny squeal when he swatted my behind as he walked in after me. His answering chuckle sent a riot of shivers over my skin.

  “Couldn’t help myself,” he said as I flipped on the living-­room light. “Had to equal out my good-­guy side with my bad-­guy side.”

  “Wow.” I dropped my purse on the worn recliner. “Do you keep a tally or something?”

  His gaze found mine. “Only with you.”

  Those three words were like taking a shot of tequila. They raced through my body, causing my head to float up to decorative plaster moldings near the ceiling. I wet my lips, entirely too delighted when his gaze zeroed in on my mouth. “Are you flirting with me, Officer Anders?”

  Reece’s grin grew as he tilted his head to the side. “What do you think?”

  “I think you are.” I moved away from the lamp, heading toward the kitchen. Thankfully, the dishwasher wasn’t possessed or anything. “You want something to drink?”

  “Got tea?”

  I grinned. “I do.”

  He trailed me into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as I grabbed a glass. As he peered out the kitchen sink window, I had a moment of panic. Was the kitchen a hot, dirty mess? After a quick scan of the countertops, I only spotted a few crumbs by the toaster and my paintbrushes were drying on a sheet of paper towels—­thank God. Normally there’d be cup rings, plates, and maybe a bowl of leftover cereal.

  “Here you go.” I offered him a glass of iced tea.

  “Thank you.” His fingers grazed mine as he took the glass, and a blanket of sudden shyness wrapped around me. “Mind if I use the bathroom?”

  I stared at the thick, leather strap on his flip-­flops. “Help yourself.” I took a step back, glancing up as I clutched my glass of tea to my chest. I sucked in a sharp breath when my eyes met his. He wore a look—­a hot and hungry one—­that said he wanted to take those two words I just uttered and apply them to a whole lot of other things.

  In that moment, I sort of wanted to smack myself. I’d seen that look before, many times over the last eleven months whenever he was in the bar. We’d both made a lot of assumptions about that night we shared, but I felt like an even bigger idiot as I stood in front of him. There was no mistaking the way he looked at me.

  “I’m . . . I’m going to get changed real quick,” I said, sidestepping around him. “You know where the bathroom is.”

  He said something, but there were way too many things floating around in my head to pay attention. I left my tea on the end table I’d painted a deep blue last fall and then all but flew into the bedroom, stopping long enough to make sure the studio-­room door was shut. Even though the portraits I’d done of Reece weren’t hanging in there, I really didn’t want him roaming into that room because they wouldn’t be hard to find.

  Closing the door quietly behind me, I whirled around and stared at the queen-­sized bed I’d scrimped and saved for, managing to purchase about two years ago. Now, I’d be saving to replace Henry’s windshield.

  Ugh.

  I didn’t want to think about how tired and . . . and done with it Charlie looked today. I didn’t want to think about Henry and how badly I’d lost control. I wasn’t going to think about any hard things, unless those hard things were a part of Reece’s anatomy.

  I smacked a hand over my mouth, but a giggle escaped nonetheless.

  Reece was actually out there, waiting for me. He was here.

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I did a little butt shimmy as I balled my hands into fists, clenching my teeth together to prevent a high-­pitch squeal from escaping. This went on for a good twenty seconds, and then I snapped out of, springing forward. What I wanted to do was shower, but that would seem too excessive and take too much time. Stripping down, I lotioned myself up until I was as soft and shiny as a baby seal, then pulled on a pair of fresh yoga pants and one of those camis with a built-­in bra.

  I yanked a brush through my hair once I let it down and then opened the closet door to check myself out in the mirror hanging on the inside. Giving myself a quick cursory glance, I thought I looked comfortable. Okay even. My hair fell to my breasts, and due to twisting it while still wet, it had messy waves in it. The outfit was laid-­back, but flattering. Not like I was trying too hard or expecting anything. That was good. I think.

  What was about to happen could end in so many different ways that I wondered if my parents ever had to worry about the many stages of possibly dating when they met. Tonight, Reece and I could hook up and it could just be a one-­night stand. Or it could turn into the casual booty call—­the one that only took place at three or four in the morning. But that could also progress into the friends-­with-­benefits stage or the “I think we’re dating, because we’re going out and doing things that don’t always involve sex but nothing has been established” stage. From there, we could end up dating or going our separate ways. We could end up married with babies or we could just fade apart from one another. I doubted we’d be friends with benefits, because Reece knew my family and I knew his,
so that could just get awkward.

  There were so many different ways this could end that I was starting to stress myself out.

  I wasn’t going to overthink any of this.

  Sticking my tongue out at my reflection, I stepped back and closed the closet door. Taking off my glasses, I placed them on the bedside table and then headed out of the bedroom, leaving the door ajar just in case we needed to make it back to the bedroom with a quickness.

  I flushed, because I’d totally do him on the couch, floor, kitchen counter—­wherever. A bed was not necessary.

  I was going to be down for whatever happened tonight.

  Chapter 10

  Reece was sitting on the couch, long legs stretched out in front of him, feet kicked up on the coffee table. The TV was on, volume down. For a moment, all I could do was stare at him as my stomach fluttered madly and dangerously, because I could . . . I could get used to seeing him sitting on my couch, waiting for me to get off work. Me waiting for him. Preferably naked.

  “Um.” He looked up, brows raised. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

  I stiffened. “What?”

  A slow grin crossed his face. “Your toilet seat lid was up.”

  “What?” I repeated.

  “When I went into your bathroom, the toilet seat was up. I was wondering if there was something you weren’t telling me. Like if you were trying a new method or something,” he teased.

  What in the world? The only time I’d ever accidentally left the toilet seat up was when I cleaned it. My mind raced to find a plausible explanation to how the seat lifted up by itself. Poltergeist. It was official. The Victorian was built on an old Indian burial ground. We all were screwed.

  Could I call Ghost Hunters? Or The Dead Files ­people?

  “Sit with me?” he asked, stretching his arm along the back of the couch.

  Reece had easily dismissed the toilet-­seat thing, and I almost blurted out my Haunting in Plymouth Meeting suspicion, but decided against sounding like a lunatic for the time being. I’d prefer to talk to my mom or Katie about that. He probably wouldn’t believe me, and think I was being kooky Roxy.