When I Fall Page 10

  Fifteen tacos. Can she even eat that many? I sure as hell can, but this little thing across from me can’t weigh more than a buck fifteen. If I actually give this my best shot, let fate decide who gets to take who, is there a chance she’ll beat me?

  “Oh, and one more thing.”

  Beth breaks into my thoughts with anxious eyes and a hungry tongue, snaking out between her lips as she eyes up her tacos. She finally looks up at me.

  “Because I’ve already kissed you on my terms, it would only be fair that if I were to win, I got to do something else instead, if I felt like it.”

  “Something else?” I ask, my voice suddenly so thick, I nearly choke on my words. I pick up my glass and take several gulps as a slow, sexy smirk twists across her mouth.

  Fuck. Me.

  I don’t know how she does it, but she manages to look this perfect blend of innocent and I’m-about-to-fuck-your-world-up. Images filter through my head, ones of her in all white, looking up at me as she drops down to her knees, ready to worship my cock. Then of her tying me to a bed, my arms and legs bound, unable to touch her, taste her, or fuck her the way I want. She brings me to the brink of orgasm with her hands, her mouth, teeth breaking my skin while I beg for her pussy and she denies me everything but suffering. She won’t let me come, but she makes me watch as she moves beside me, fingers sliding in and out of her while she chants my name. My fucking name.

  What. The. Fuck. More important question, why am I harder than steel at the thought of option two?

  “If I win,” she says, “I can choose to kiss you again, or, I can choose to do . . . whatever I want.”

  Whatever she wants.

  Option two. Please, for the love of God, say option two.

  I look down at my plate, silently thanking my food for looking appetizing, because I’m not going to be able to enjoy it the way I had originally intended.

  Life is funny like that. One minute, you’re ready to show a woman that you never challenge a man to an eating competition. The next minute, you’re thinking about all the fast food places you’re going to pass on your way home from dropping said woman off at her car. I like to plan ahead. Burgers sound pretty good.

  I lift my head, feigning confidence with a smug grin. “Deal.”

  SHIT. I AM FUCKING STARVING.

  Beth is sitting across from me, working on taco number nine, and looking like she’s nowhere near stopping. Where her food is going, I have no idea. Maybe to those plump tits that are teasing the hell out of me beneath that dress, causing my erection to be a permanent fixture beneath the table. I’ve almost excused myself twice to go get some fucking relief in the men’s room, but honestly, I didn’t want to miss a moment of this challenge. I’ve never seen a woman tackle this much food before, and look this good doing it.

  I, on the other hand, have given up at a half-finished sixth with a hand to my stomach and a wince tightening my brow every few minutes. I need to play this up, otherwise she’ll never believe I could only handle five and a half tacos. My man-hood is on the line here. I actually wish I did have the stomach ache I’m faking. Maybe then my mouth wouldn’t still be watering at the sight left on my platter.

  Think of the prize. Remember what’s at stake.

  Beth wipes her napkin across her mouth and drops it down on the table. “Finished already, rookie?” she asks, victory lifting her voice to a cocky pitch. Her finger points to the food in front of me. “I see a whole lot of tacos left over there. I thought you said there was no way in hell I was going to beat you?”

  I force my eyes to close tightly as I let my head hit the back of the booth. “Stomach cramp. I think there was something in my guacamole.”

  “Or you just can’t run with the big dogs. And that’s fine. I won’t tell anybody.” A soft laugh rings out from her direction. “Or, I’ll tell everybody.”

  I open my eyes, glaring at her as the smile on her face calls out to something inside of me. Something that would do more than I’m willing to admit just to see her face light up like that.

  “Give up?” she asks, looking down at my platter, then back up at me.

  I answer her by sliding my food away from me, and she begins to wiggle in her seat, bopping her head back and forth as her eyes close and her mouth quietly utters the phrase “oh yeah, oh yeah” over and over.

  Damn. That’s cute as hell.

  “Would you like a to-go box?”

  I look up at our waitress who has arrived at the table.

  Beth dissolves against the booth, halting her victory dance and shaking her head quickly as she acknowledges the woman with a nervous grin.

  “No thank you,” she tells her, clearly embarrassed for getting caught basking in her win.

  I pick up my platter and hand it over to the waitress. “I’m good. We’ll just take the check.”

  If I had gotten anything but tacos, I’d consider taking it with us and devouring it in my truck after I drop Beth off. But I don’t do cold or reheated Mexican food, and it’s been decided already. I’m stopping for burgers.

  “Finished gloating?” I tease, getting Beth’s attention off her lap.

  “For now.” She smiles, drops her elbow to the table, and rests her chin on her hand. “We need to come up with our history together. How we met, how long we’ve been dating, all the relationship stuff. I’m pretty sure those are questions that could definitely be asked on Saturday.”

  “Okay.”

  “And since I said we’re in love, I think we should at least be going on a few months together. Like two or three, which would put us at meeting . . .”

  Two or three?

  “Wait a minute.” I hold my hand up, halting her insane line of thinking. “You’ve fallen in love with someone that fast before?”

  That’s not possible. Besides the only two people on the planet who are the giant freak exception to that rule, Ben and Mia, no one falls in love that fast. It took me almost a year to realize I loved Molly.

  She slowly drops her hand down to her lap, joining her other one. “I’ve never fallen in love with anyone. But I think you can fall in love that fast. I think sometimes it can happen almost instantly. Like as soon as you see someone. You immediately feel this pull toward that other person.”

  “Yeah, you want to have sex with them. That’s what that pull is. Or in my case, it’s usually a firm squeeze, and then a pull.”

  I grin.

  She rolls her eyes.

  “No,” she says through a shake of her head. “Sex obviously does play a part in it. But you can also have feelings for somebody right away that you don’t understand. Maybe at the time you think it’s just a desire to sleep with them, but then weeks, or months later, you think back and it’s like, wow. That’s what that was. That’s why I needed to be with them.” She drops her eyes to the table. “That’s what I would want,” she says through a much softer voice. “Love should be unpredictable. I want it to hit me and like, knock me on my ass. And I don’t want it to take me years to realize that’s what I was feeling. I think two to three months is plenty of time, if not sooner.” She blinks up at me. “But I’m not an expert on this. You probably have more experience on this subject than I do. So, you decide. How long would it take you to fall in love with me?”

  This woman. Fuck.

  I stare at her as the stomach ache I was faking becomes something very real. Though it’s not really an ache. It’s more like a fist wrapping around every organ in my body and squeezing it just until it becomes restricting.

  I know her question is justified. I know this is something we need to have locked down before Molly or someone else asks us separately about our relationship. Beth is asking me this because she has to, but this feels like something much more important to her. And shit, it’s now suddenly important to me. Giving her the answer she wants isn’t my only option, but it’s the only way I want to respond.

  I struggle through a swallow, getting down the last bit of saliva left in my mouth. “Three months sounds
good. That’ll work for me.”

  She blinks several times before her nose crinkles with a smile. “Okay. Three months would put us at March. Where would we have met?”

  “Can we say McGill’s? There’s at least some truth to that.”

  “I was playing pool, and I had no idea what I was doing. You came over and gave me a few pointers.”

  I smile playfully at her set up, and she reacts by slowly nodding, as if she knows what I’m about to say. The little minx.

  “I showed you how to handle my pool cue.”

  “And your balls.”

  She masks her own amusement with a serious face, and I give her one right back.

  It’s a stand-off, neither one of us cracking until I see the slightest twitch in the corner of her mouth. I can’t hold my reaction in anymore, and we both start laughing at the same time. Hers muffled by the hand clamped over her mouth, and mine echoing out around us.

  What the hell is it about this woman that makes me feel lighter?

  Sliding her hand down, it settles on her chest as she recovers slowly from her laughing fit. “What do you do anyway? Like for work?”

  I let the chilled root beer quench my thirst before I answer. “Construction. I work for my family’s company.”

  “Do you like it?”

  “Yeah, I love it. It’s all I’ve ever known, but I don’t think I’m missing out on anything. I like hard work, earning that beer at the end of the day. It’s really important to me. I’ll probably be just like my grandfather and do it until I can’t fucking walk anymore.”

  “When it rains, you don’t have to work?” she asks, rubbing her thumb along the condensation that’s built up on her glass as the smallest crease pinches her eyebrows together.

  “No, it usually shuts everything down. We don’t get that much rain here, so it’s not too bad. We’ve never gotten behind on a job.”

  I down the rest of my drink when Beth picks her glass up, and it’s then I realize that I haven’t asked her any questions. I don’t know anything about her, yet she seems so strangely familiar to me.

  “Hattie told me the other night you just moved in with them. Did you leave the rest of your family in Kentucky?” I ask, setting my empty glass at the edge of the table for the waitress to pick up. Maybe she’s just visiting with her aunt for the summer.

  She shifts in her seat while her hands fall to her lap, pulling at the bottom of her dress. I know this because of the way the material moves against her stomach. She’s fidgeting all of a sudden. Why? Isn’t this what we’re supposed to be doing?

  “No, I don’t have any other family,” she answers anxiously, and I suddenly feel like a dick for causing the change in her demeanor. “My momma died a few months ago. She was all I had.”

  Shit. “I’m sorry.”

  The corner of her mouth lifts ever so slightly. “She had some issues, but she was a good mom. When she died, it was really hard not having anybody. I didn’t know about my aunt until right before I moved here a few days ago.”

  I want to ask more about her mom, but I don’t want her getting sad. “Your dad?”

  “Don’t know him. I don’t even know if my momma knew who he was.” She scrapes her teeth along her bottom lip. “Sorry, there’s not much to tell about me. I don’t have a job yet. The only family I have are my aunt and uncle. I’m twenty-two, I love to read, and I’m really, really glad I’m here.”

  Here. Alabama? Or here, here? With me?

  I smile, hoping to ease some of the worry that’s making her tense up on me. “I think what you’ve just told me is plenty.”

  The tension dissolves from her body, and she reaches for the check the waitress dropped off sometime during this conversation. How did I miss that?

  “I’ll pay half. You put up an impressive fight.”

  The fuck she will.

  I grab the check from her, stand from the booth, and reach for my wallet. After throwing sixty bucks on the table to cover our meal and a generous tip, I tuck my wallet back in my pocket.

  “Another thing you should know about me,” I tell her, watching those eyes of hers gauge me with blunt intensity. “When we’re together, you don’t pay. Even if I would’ve won you wouldn’t be paying, and any guy that takes you out like this and expects you to cover any part of the meal, is a dick.”

  “But this wasn’t a date or anything.”

  I brace one hand on the ledge of the booth behind her, flatten my other hand on the table, and lean down, getting inches from her face. I’m expecting her to back up, or maybe startle a bit at my intrusion, but fuck me if she doesn’t tilt her head up, welcoming it.

  “It doesn’t matter what this was. If you ever go out with a guy and he makes you pay, don’t go out with him again. You understand?”

  She stares at my mouth. “Is that an Alabama thing? Are all the guys here like you?”

  I straighten up, giving her a smirk that brings out that damn smile of hers. I had my cocky response ready, but my face breaks into a grin and wipes my memory of whatever line I was about to give her.

  “Shit,” I mumble, running my hand over my jaw as she stands from the booth.

  How can a fucking smile knock me off my game? It’s a smile. It’s not like she’s pulling her dress off, and then beaming up at me like that with her tits out. That would definitely prevent me from coming back at her with something. My mouth would be too busy worshipping every part of her.

  She looks up at me. “What?”

  I form my hand to her lower back and move her with me through the restaurant. “I don’t know. Just pretend I said something really witty. And maybe give a guy a warning next time you’re planning on smiling like that.”

  “A warning?” she asks, hesitantly as we step outside. Her eyes cast upward to the sky. “Oh hey, it stopped raining.”

  I don’t even register the change in weather. Just another thing that slips by me when I’m in her presence.

  I open up the passenger door and step back, allowing space for her to get in front of me. “Yeah, a warning. Like ‘Hey Reed, I’m about to fuck up your chances of forming a complete thought. Just wanted to give you a heads up.’”

  She climbs into the truck with my assistance, looks down at me after situating her dress, and frowns. “Hey, Reed?” she says more as a question than anything. Her voice suddenly apprehensive.

  “Yeah?” I step closer, cranking my neck back to stare up at her. Holding my fucking breath to make sure I don’t miss whatever it is she’s about to ask me.

  Pathetic.

  “Fuck,” I utter through a rough shake of my head as she does it again. I shut the door, muting her animated laughter. Catching her eyes in the front window as I walk around the truck, she pins me with the happiest face I think I’ve ever seen.

  That smile.

  Damn.

  Beth

  I STEP THROUGH THE LARGE, rustic doors of the church and descend the staircase to get to the basement. Once I reach the bottom level, the room opens up into a large space. Long tables with bench seating fill the area, reminding me of the cafeteria at my high school back in Kentucky. It’s busy in here, but not a lot of noise. Everyone is eating and focused on their food. Tables of families huddled together, talking softly between bites. Other people sit alone, but they don’t look lonely. They don’t look despaired or destitute. They have a quiet hope about them as they eat their meals and keep to themselves.

  I move past the line of people waiting to be served and head for the doorway that leads to the kitchen. A woman looks over at me, pausing with a soup ladle in her hand.

  “Hi, can I help you?” she asks, using the back of her free hand to push the brim of her glasses up on her nose. She’s young, not much older than me if I had to guess.

  Smiling, I step further into the kitchen. “I spoke to someone on the phone yesterday about volunteering. I was told to show up around eleven today.”

  “Oh, yes!” She pulls her gloves off and drops them into the trash bin on
her way over to me. Taking my hand in a firm shake, her light-blue eyes shine with a familiar light, but I can’t understand why. We’ve never met.

  “I’m Riley. You spoke to me on the phone.”

  “Beth, hi, it’s nice to meet you.” I drop her hand and follow behind as she moves back toward the table covered in hot food, the steam billowing above the containers.

  “Thank you so much for coming. We’re extremely short-handed lately,” she tells me over her shoulder. She stops behind the two other volunteers. “This is Wendy, and Tonya. Ladies, this is Beth. She’s going to be helping us out occasionally.”

  We exchange quick hellos as Riley grabs an apron for me off the wall. After securing it around my waist, I rub my hands together and eagerly step up behind the table. She gives me a quick run-down of the procedure for serving the people who come in. Everyone gets portions of whatever they’d like, and if there are leftovers after they go through the line, people can come up for seconds. Riley tells me most days they have enough for that to happen, except for holidays when the crowd wraps around the building.

  “This is so great,” I say to Riley as I scoop a generous portion of green beans onto a plate. I hand it to the woman waiting across the other side of the table. “I wish they would’ve had something like this where I’m from. I could’ve used it.”

  She looks over at me, empathy in her eyes, and I see the moment she decides to go a different route with her response. The hesitation forcing her lips to close, then the slight tilt of her head. “Where are you from?” she asks.

  “Kentucky. I just moved here a few days ago. I’m staying with my aunt and uncle.”

  She spoons some soup into a bowl and hands it to the man in front of her. “I would love to travel. I’ve lived here my whole life. But my family is here, and my boyfriend. He’s not much for getting out.”

  I chuckle when she wrinkles her nose in disgust. “How long have you been together?”

  “Few months, I guess,” she answers, almost dismissively. “I . . . he’s . . .” She huffs. “I don’t know. It’s complicated, which sounds like such a cliché thing to say.”