Gena Showalter - The Harder You Fall

“Evil is always afoot,” she added, “but the good guys always save the day.”

His frown returned, deepened. “Let’s listen to the radio.” He jacked up the volume.

Didn’t like her observations? “Giving you the silent treatment won’t be a problem,” she called over the music.

“Really? Because you’re still talking.”

“Oh, that wasn’t talking. This is.” For the rest of the drive, she chatted about nothing. Loudly. The weather, her love of donuts, the price of thongs—so little material should cost less!—and finally, her last gynecological exam.

They reached the diner just as she got to the part about the cold speculum. He parked in back and sighed with relief when she quieted.

Rather than waiting for him to open her door—would he? wouldn’t he?—she jumped out.

“Do you have to move like that?” West called as he emerged.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re in heat.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t like, don’t watch.”

“Impossible,” he might or might not have muttered.

What the heck!

The other couples were already inside, seated at a rickety table in back, next to a Christmas tree. Ugh. Christmas. Her least favorite holiday was only three and a half weeks away. She and Brook Lynn would have to celebrate—again—without their parents.

Hate the holidays!

Despite the holly-jolly decorations, Jessie Kay fell in love with the diner at first glance. The red vinyl booths and black-and-white-tiled floor charmed her. Though the mint-green walls were cracked and crumbling, and there were water stains on the ceiling, the flaws only added character. Life had happened here. And really, how could you complain about anything when the smell of hamburgers, bacon and chili dogs saturated the air?

Only two chairs were free at the table, and of course, they were right next to each other.

West pulled one out for her, his gentlemanly ways shocking her all over again.

“Thank you,” she muttered as she sat.

“You’re welcome,” he muttered back, sliding in beside her.

Things had always been strained between them, but now she knew the sweetness of his concern as she’d fought a panic attack, knew the feel of his hand pressed against hers, the kindness he showed to even a woman he didn’t exactly like, and the strain reached a whole new level. I want!

Danger! Headed to a hot zone.

“So...you guys been waiting long?” she asked, hoping for a distraction.

No one paid her a bit of attention. With Harlow marrying Beck—this freaking weekend—and Brook Lynn marrying Jase—in less than five freaking months—the girls were caught up in a conversation about the weddings while the guys reminisced fondly about Ball Busters they’d injured.

Dude. I think you broke his femur. Congrats!

The waitress arrived and, to Jessie Kay’s irritation, placed her hand on West’s shoulder, as if it had every right to be there. “Y’all know what you want to drink?”

Overfriendly much?

The group snapped to attention, Jase kicking things off. When it was West’s turn, the waitress stripped him with her predatory eyes and said, “Don’t worry, sweetie. I remember what you like. I’ll take real good care of you, promise.”

With a wink and a grin, she sashayed off, and dang it, even Jessie Kay had to admit her milkshake would bring all the boys to the yard. Short and slender, she had the kind of curves most women spent years in a gym—or thousands on surgery—trying to achieve. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail and swished from side to side, acting like a summoning finger, demanding anything with a penis follow fast.

“Looks like you have a groupie.” The venom in Jessie Kay’s voice baffled her.

I’m not jealous. I can’t be jealous.

West meant nothing to her.

She tried for sweet. “How nice that must be for you.” And how nice for Ponytail. The fact that she hadn’t made the horrendous gaffe of sleeping with both West’s friends, well, she might actually have a chance to score him.

“A groupie?” He shook his head, the picture of masculine confidence. “How cute.”

“You should have seen the one who showed up at the office a few days ago.” Beck draped his arm over Harlow’s chair, something Jessie Kay’s dad used to do whenever he was seated next to her mom. Daddy could never go more than a few minutes without touching Momma.

When we’re not together, Anna Grace, I think of you. And when I think of you, I smile.

“She and West shook hands,” Beck continued, “and I swear they made a baby.”

“Twins.” West rubbed two fingers against the dark stubble on his jaw. “Maybe triplets.”

“You are such a romantic.” Jessie Kay clutched her napkin to her chest. “How does anyone resist you?”

“That’s a very good question.” He met her gaze, and it shocked her—thrilled her—to watch his pupils expand, black spilling over all that gold. A forest fire wafting smoke. “Why don’t you provide the answer?”

All eyes landed on her, and she shifted uncomfortably. “My opinion doesn’t count. To me you’re like a third cousin twice removed.”

“So...kissing cousins?” Jase asked her.

As she sputtered with indignation, Ponytail returned with their drinks, making sure to shove her cleavage in West’s face. Did she have no shame?

“Y’all ready to order?”

“Sure.” West petted the woman’s hand, which had once again migrated to his shoulder. “I’ll have the special, whatever it is.”

After everyone else had placed their orders— requesting the special as well—Ponytail skipped off to give their ticket to the cook.

“I take it back.” Jessie Kay frowned at West. “You don’t have a groupie. You are a groupie. Her twins had you completely entranced.”

“Hardly.” He peered at Jessie Kay for a while longer, the wheels clearly turning in his head. Finally he nodded, as if he’d just made a decision. He leaned toward her, coming closer and closer. His voice a rasp of heat, ensuring only she could hear him, he said, “I happen to be a fan of someone else’s twins.”

Her jaw dropped, and her mouth went dry. Had he just—no, no, impossible...but...maybe. Had he just come on to her?

Wide-eyed, she turned her attention to Jase. “Did West sustain a massive brain injury during the game?” First he’d been nice to her. Then he’d complimented her movements—in heat? Yes! Now he flirted with her.

Actually he might be more than injured. He might be dying.

“Why?” Brook Lynn and Harlow asked in unison, instantly concerned.

“What’s wrong?” Brook Lynn demanded.

The guys merely smiled slyly at her, as if they were privy to a secret.

“Maybe he finally had some sense knocked into him,” Beck said.

“Maybe someone else wanted what he wants, and he decided to take it. At long last,” Jase said.

Meaning...someone else had wanted her and West had decided to make a move?

No way. Absolutely no way. No one but Daniel wanted her, and he didn’t count.

Reeling, needing a moment to regroup, she tossed her napkin on the table. And, just to be tactless, she added, “I’m headed to the lady’s crapper. Alone,” she added for the girls’ benefit. “If I take a while, don’t come looking for me.”

Brook Lynn dropped her head in her upraised hands and moaned. “My sister did not just say those words at such a loud volume. I’m in a happy place. With butterflies and roses.”

West continued to stare at her, the forest fire growing hotter...so hot all that smoke reached her, twined around her. Barely able to breathe, she backed away from him. Whatever this was, whatever had changed between them, whatever he was doing, she wanted no part of it—because deep down she wanted all of it.