Falling Hard Page 2

  The lights from the flares flickered over her angry expression. She snatched the wrench from him and bent down to continue. “I wasn’t hurt that Blake told me he didn’t want a commitment. I was seventeen, for Pete’s sake. I hadn’t planned to marry him. In fact, I didn’t even like him all that much. All he cared about was football, and how many touchdowns he’d made. ‘Wasn’t I awesome on that play?’ ” she mimicked in a low voice. “ ‘Feel my biceps. I upped my bench weight to two hundred thousand. Whoo-hoo.’ ” She was using all her strength to push the wrench, and it finally budged. “To be honest, I didn’t like that whole crowd.”

  But you chose them over me. Thank God he didn’t voice that particular sentiment. “Well, you sure as hell gravitated right to them.”

  She jammed the wrench over the next nut and started tugging. “I wanted…to…belong.”

  Though she’d grunted them out, her words hit him in the solar plexus. He didn’t want to relate to her in any way. He’d done it once, that night at the races, and she’d stepped on his heart. Or his ego. He preferred to think it was only that. “You didn’t seem like a girl who wanted to belong, with your piercings and goth-candy look. At least when you first came to town.” That she was her own person, like him, had snagged his attention. She’d been wearing a lacy black miniskirt over black leggings patterned with pink skulls. Somehow, her clunky combat boots looked sexier than hell.

  She gave him a raised eye. “Goth candy?”

  He shrugged. “That’s what I called it. You weren’t a Goth in the traditional sense, pasty-skinned and all black. But you had a touch of that look.”

  She turned back and loosened the nut, then moved on to the last one. “I did belong. Back in New York, I was part of the Misfits Posse. But here I was just a misfit. An outsider.”

  Damned if she didn’t loosen that nut, too. She stood and faced him. “Why don’t you admit, just between the two of us, that a part of you wonders if he did date-rape me?”

  “No way.” The words jumped out of his mouth like hot beans, and he squelched that burning sensation in his gut that signaled the need for an antacid. He’d bought them by the case in the months after her accusation. “I know my brother. He might look strong and confident, but inside he’s a wimp.”

  “It doesn’t take strength to ply a girl with alcohol and force yourself on her while you twist her words and ignore her pleas to stop. It does take a certain amount of arrogance, though, to tell yourself and everyone else a different version of the truth.” Her voice had wobbled on those last words, tightening his gut. She bent down to grab her junky jack. “And that no one has accused Blake of assault means nothing, nada, zip. Seventy percent of sexual assaults aren’t reported. And look what happens when a woman does report it. She’s made out to be a whore. Or a vindictive liar. People she thought were her friends call her nasty names on her Facebook page. The charges are usually dropped, her rapist goes on with his life, and she never gets any frickin’ closure. Why would anyone else come forward after seeing what came of my accusation?”

  Damn, the pain and anger in her words, as fresh as though it had happened last month…but no, she was just seeing it from an emotionally skewed perspective. Or she was covering her guilt with her conviction.

  But her big brown eyes didn’t hold a speck of guilt as she met his gaze. “Look, I appreciate your loyalty to my father, but I got this. Have a good night.”

  Whoa, complete dismissal. She went back to work, positioning the jack as she squinted at the manual’s directions. Fine. He didn’t need to help her. And he sure had plenty to do. He would get back in his truck and…

  “Hell.” He pushed his jack beneath the car and pumped the handle. Once the tire had cleared the ground by a couple of inches, he loosened the lug nuts the rest of the way. He removed the tire, feeling the tear that had rendered it flat. She had already grabbed the spare and slipped into place to push it on.

  A car passed, the first since he’d stopped. He wondered how far along she would have gotten on her own. She was capable enough, though his headlights provided light that she wouldn’t otherwise have had. They both hand-tightened the lugs, and he lowered the car. She grabbed the wrench and nudged it over a nut. He let her handle that until she went on to the next lug nut.

  “Tighten them in a star pattern,” he said, pointing to the nut across from the one she’d just tightened.

  She nodded and focused on going from nut to nut as he pointed out the next one. The smudge on her forehead made her look adorable—a ridiculous thought to have about the enemy.

  And make no mistake: you and she are on opposites sides.

  Pax tested the lug nuts and gave an approving jerk of his chin. “You’re all set.”

  “Thank you. I’ll tell my father you were a big help.”

  “I’m not vying for Brownie points.”

  She looked at him for the first time in what felt like a while. “You’re not a partner at the B&B, are you?” By the tightness in her expression, he guessed that the thought of that unnerved her.

  “No, innkeeping’s not my thing.” He wasn’t going to get into his dreams with her. “When you see your father, he’s going to look pretty scary. He’s banged up bad.”

  “But you said he’s all right.”

  “He’ll be all right, but it’s going to take a while.”

  She took a moment to digest that. “I heard someone ran their car into the inn.”

  “Guy had a stroke—at least, that’s what they think. He plowed into the kitchen, where Wade was preparing for breakfast. The car shoved him through the cabinets and into an interior wall. Broke his pelvis, ribs, and arm, cut him up pretty bad. He suffered some internal injuries, the reason for the ICU.”

  She let out a soft whimper that gripped his chest. “Oh, God.”

  Damn, he’d listed the facts like a cop. Which you’re not anymore. He’d only been a cop for two years, yet in that time he’d assimilated the ability to view horrific events with detachment. “He’ll survive. I promise.” Damn again. He’d broken the cardinal rule: Don’t make promises you can’t keep. Even worse, he had touched her arm without even realizing it. Hopefully, she hadn’t either, worried as she was about her dad. He grabbed the flat tire and stowed it in the storage area, then closed the trunk. “You know how to get to the hospital from here?”

  “I have a map app on my phone.”

  He rubbed his hands together to clear off the dirt. “All right, then.” They stood only a foot apart, face-to-face. The years had refined her features and sharpened her cheekbones. She didn’t have the ruby nose stud, the multiple ear piercings, or the smoky shadow around her big brown eyes. She wasn’t wearing any lacy black skirt over black leggings. She no longer had the rebel spark in her eyes that had yanked on him that first night they’d met. But she’d lost all that long before her treachery. Just as she’d seemed to lose interest in him once school started.

  He’d caught himself wondering many times whether it would have been different if she’d gone out with him. He wouldn’t have gotten plastered, and he sure wouldn’t have had sex with a girl if she was drunk.

  “How long are you going to be in town?” he couldn’t resist asking.

  “Until my dad is out of the hospital and back on his feet.” She blindly reached for the door handle. “I really appreciate your help. Especially considering—”

  “No problem.”

  She hesitated for a moment, tension rippling between them. “I guess I’ll see you…well, I probably won’t.”

  She got into her car, and he snuffed out the flares as she pulled away. He climbed into the truck and stroked Harley’s soft, short fur as he watched her taillights fade into the distance. “Maybe I should’ve told her that she will, indeed, be seeing me again.”

  Chapter 2

  It was as though the past seven years had disappeared. All Gemma’s anger and angst had flared right up again.

  And so did your attraction to Pax.

  Oh, shush.
She wanted to refute that darned voice in her head, but it was true. Her gaze had slid down his backside as he bent to work on the tire, lingering on that gap of skin between the bottom of his shirt and the top of his jeans. She kept catching herself watching the muscles in his arms shift and flex, the way his long fingers easily managed the task of changing the tire.

  Which was just ridiculous, because he was the enemy. And she was his enemy. Even more so, because in his eyes she’d falsely accused his brother. His anger had resurrected as quickly as hers, yet he’d insisted on helping her.

  She was grateful for the help in changing the tire, but why oh why did it have to be Pax? Someone who mattered.

  Bah. He doesn’t matter. And it could have been worse. What if it had been Blake? She shuddered at the image. I’ll take Pax any day. Over Blake. Though she would not be taking Pax in any way, shape, or form. Who the hell is he to try to get me to admit that I misinterpreted the situation, just so he can feel better? And then to call me on selling out to the popular crowd? She took a deep breath. Which I did.

  She’d had reasons for selling out. For fitting in.

  Had she antagonized him a little? Probably. Seeing Pax had poked at multiple wounds. As he’d said about her father, her beef had never been with Pax. He’d simply stood by his brother, just as she’d expect him to do.

  Gemma turned into downtown Chambliss. It had grown, new buildings stretching all the way to the road coming in. She spotted a vegan, gluten-free café. A vape shop. Several chic boutiques in the old-fashioned brick buildings. But it was itty-bitty compared with New York City. She wished it were a big city, where the odds of running into someone she knew were infinitesimal.

  Her phone intoned for her to turn right a quarter of a mile ahead. She recognized some of the businesses from seven years ago. The Piggly Wiggly. The Brewster Ale House, which had the first fried pickles she’d ever tasted. The Flying Pepperoni, where the kids went for pizza.

  Where she and Pax had connected for the first time since the night they met at the race.

  The memory sucked her in: the noisy joint filled with heavenly smells and pop music, Blake patting the side of his booth for her to sit next to him instead of across from him…

  She listened to him going on and on about the upcoming game and the opposing team’s weaknesses, nodding the way a good girlfriend should.

  Girlfriend. She’d never been anyone’s girlfriend before, and yet Blake had claimed her as such within days of meeting her. He clamped his big arm around her shoulders and mashed her up against him as he introduced her to the other kids at school. “This is Gemma, my girlfriend.”

  Once she’d gotten over the surprise the first time, she rather liked it. She belonged. Being with Blake was her stamp of approval, even more than being Emily’s sort-of friend. But now, a month into school, it felt vaguely uncomfortable. He hadn’t actually asked her; he’d simply assumed.

  She was bored by Blake’s blathering, and her gaze slid to the entrance every time someone entered. A few kids from high school. Families. Then Pax. Her heartbeat actually jumped, and she felt guilty for it. Guilt or no, she drank him in, with his windblown hair, his loose button-down shirt open over a tank top, and tight jeans. He was on the phone, but he signed off as he headed to the order counter.

  “Pax!” Blake called, waving him over. “Join us! We have a large pizza coming.”

  Parts of her were screaming Yes! And parts were screaming No! She and Pax had exchanged brief hellos as they passed in the hallways, but generally he was coolly polite to her. Which she deserved, after that hot chemistry they’d shared the night they met. By the time she saw him again on the first day of school, Emily had immersed her in the “right” crowd. She wished she could explain why she’d gone out with Blake.

  Pax settled into the booth across from them. A bit of sunburn warmed the tops of his cheeks. “You sure I’m not…intruding?”

  Blake waved that off. “I never see my kid brother, with my practice and your fishing. You remember Pax, right?” he asked Gemma.

  She gave him an embarrassed nod, wondering if Blake had purposely put Pax into the “kid” category.

  Pax flashed her a quick smile before shifting his gaze to his brother. “Thanks for the invite. I was just going to buy a couple of slices. What are you guys up to?”

  “Just hanging,” Blake said. “Woody was going to have a party, but his parents decided not to go out of town, so that’s off. Now it’s just me and my girl.” He kissed her, smashing his mouth against hers, going on for so long that embarrassment burned her cheeks. For a popular guy, he couldn’t kiss for shit. She usually lost interest after several seconds, and was relieved when he finished it. She subtly wiped the wet mark he’d left all around her mouth. Was Blake marking his territory? But he had no idea that she and Pax had had a moment. Or did he?

  Pax watched the busy dining area during the kiss, pointedly ignoring them. He waved to the cute blond server, who sprinted over. “Hey, Paxy. Coke, half ice, shot of Sprite.” With a wink and a flounce, she was gone.

  Pax watched Carrie, a high-school senior, depart without any hint of lust. Then his gaze slid back to them. “Hooked a four-foot shark today.”

  “In that tin can you call a boat?” Blake asked. “I’m surprised it didn’t tip over.”

  If Blake meant that as an insult, Pax didn’t take it that way. “Yep. Fought him for about three hours.” He held up blister-covered hands. “Sam was out with me, and he helped with the line. But hell, just as we’d get the shark close to the boat it would take off on a three-hundred-foot run. It was exhausting.”

  Gemma remembered Sam from school, a skinny kid who seemed to idolize Pax. “Why would you want a shark close to your boat?” Gemma asked. “All I can think about is teeth. Very sharp teeth.” And Pax’s hands, arms—yummy tidbits.

  Carrie brought his drink and set plates and silverware on the table, her attention on Pax. “Heard you caught a big ole shark.”

  “Yep, I was just telling them about it.”

  “I’d like to hear about it, too. Maybe later, when I get off work?” She flashed him a coy smile and flounced off again, with a pronounced wiggle in her ass.

  Gemma hated the twinge of jealousy at the thought of the two of them together later, since she had no right to it. “Weren’t you afraid it would bite off your hand? Or take a chunk out of the side of your boat?” she asked, wanting him to continue his story.

  “Don’t encourage him,” Blake said in a mock whisper. “He’ll go on and on about the fight, every drop of sweat and tears—”

  “Sounds interesting to me,” she cut in, finding it ironic, because that’s what Blake did about football or his workouts at the gym. A shark fight sounded infinitely more interesting. Especially with Pax’s storytelling enthusiasm.

  Even after the pizza was delivered, he continued to relay all the details. “The shark’s tail hit the boat and nearly knocked me into the water,” he said, but he didn’t look scared at the thought. No, the fool looked excited. “My Boogie-Boarding skills helped, I’m sure, making it easier for me to keep my balance.”

  She laughed at the funny parts, cringed at the scary parts, and only later realized that the tension between them had disappeared. And that she’d been totally focused on Pax throughout the meal. Oops. Not cool.

  Blake looked disengaged, his gaze often wandering to other areas of the restaurant. She could hardly believe the two were related; they were so different in both looks and personality. Pax was lean, muscular, and tanned, with a sparkle in his eyes and an incredible, dimpled smile. Blake was big and bulky, and his smile lacked warmth.

  Pax threw some bills on the table and slid out. “Thanks for sharing. I’m going to play some Raiders and head out.”

  “Raiders?” she asked.

  “Raiders of the Lost Ark pinball machine, in the back room.” He nodded toward an open doorway, where she saw a few pinball and other arcade machines. “See ya.”

  His gaze lingere
d on her for a moment before he sauntered away.

  “Why’d you go feeding him like that?” Blake groused.

  “Feeding him?” Gemma’s subconscious conjured a mental picture of her breaking off bits of pizza and holding them to Pax’s lips, feeling them brush her fingertips.

  “Boring fishing stuff,” he continued. His expression brightened as he looked toward the door. “Hey, guys! Come on over. We have a couple pieces left.”

  Three boys from school descended on their booth and fought over the remaining pieces and even the discarded crusts. They grew louder as they talked about crushing the school they were playing against next week, with grunts, hand slaps, and vulgar language. They ordered another pizza and called two more guys to join them.

  Gemma excused herself and went to the bathroom. When she emerged, she saw that more guys had crammed into the booth, making the group even more loud and obnoxious. She veered into the arcade, pretending to just check it out when she knew that she was looking for Pax. She found him, totally focused on his game. Red and yellow lights washed over his face, honing the planes of his cheeks. Long fingers braced the corners of the machine, and the muscles in his arms flexed as he masterfully controlled the paddles. His nice, tight ass and hips swiveled in some unconscious attempt to sway the ball, and it was all perfectly soundtracked by the movie’s theme song.

  The moment he became aware of her, he lost the ball. But he didn’t look annoyed as he turned to her, though he did seem surprised.

  “Blake’s friends joined us,” she said. “It’s way too noisy and crowded over there. I’d rather hear about your fishing than about football any day.”

  That earned her one of his easy grins. “I could tell you lots of fishin’ stories.” His grin faded. “But I’d probably wear you out.”