Five Ways to Fall Page 8

  My hand flies out to land on his cheek, slapping it as I push his face back to me. “Nothing. I’m ready to go.”

  He easily overpowers my strength, his bright blues quickly scanning the tables. Somehow he zones in on the right one. Or wrong one, depending on who you’re asking. “Who are they?”

  “Who is who?” Playing dumb has never been my strong suit.

  “That smokin’-hot redhead and the dude?”

  “She’s not that hot!” I snap, and then grit my teeth as the grin hits Ben’s face. He was baiting me and I failed. I can’t help my attention from wandering over to their table again. My stomach constricts as I watch her flip her hair over her shoulder and giggle as he says something, his smile radiant. Try as I might, I can’t stop staring at him, as the hollow ache of betrayal throbs inside my chest, remembering his pale green eyes . . .

  And suddenly those pale green eyes are focused on me.

  I freeze like a squirrel caught within the sight lines of a car as the various stages—meaninglessness to recognition to shock to worry—flicker across his face, as Jared realizes that his crazy ex-wife is sitting only a few tables over. And when Caroline realizes that she has lost her husband’s undivided attention, she turns to see what could possibly be more important.

  Thankfully I manage to break eye contact before her gaze lands on me, and now I’m back to staring at Ben with what I imagine looks like panic. “Keep your eyes on me, please,” I beg.

  “That’s not hard to do.” I think that was flattery but right now, it’s not working on me.

  Shit. I knew that one day fate would play a cruel joke on me. The world is too small and cold-hearted for it not to. But it wasn’t supposed to happen so soon and like this. Not in my faded jeans, and ratty old T-shirt and black boots, and with helmet-head hair. I am supposed to be the smoking-hot one.

  My ears begin to burn as I feel their eyes shift from me to each other and back again, no doubt discussing what to do. Ben must have picked up on my anxiety because he reaches over and clasps my hand with his. I don’t even try to pull away. Leaning in slightly, he murmurs, “You okay?”

  “No.”

  A mixture of surprise and concern flickers within his eyes. “Do I need to hurt someone for you?”

  Despite the situation, I feel my heart melt a little. It’s kind of sweet that Ben’s taking on a protective role. I guess years of being a bouncer have developed those instincts. “Yes, but not in the way you’re thinking.” From my peripherals, I see Jared shift out of his seat and start heading my way, Caroline on his heels.

  Oh shit. “We’re dating, okay?” I blurt out without really thinking.

  Ben’s face stills for a moment. And then a smirk that is nothing short of victorious spreads across his lips. “You want my help?”

  “Please, just—” I don’t have a chance to beg before I find Jared standing next to the table.

  “Reese? Is that you?” The smooth cadence in his voice is just as alluring as it was the first time I met him, when he ensnared me in his trap. Caroline wastes no time roping her bony arm through his, indiscreetly positioning her hand so that her rings are front and center in my line of sight. In case I didn’t already know that they were married. I force myself to take a slow, calming breath, only to sense the rattle in my chest.

  “Hey, Jared.” I’d love to sound indifferent or flippant, but I can’t keep the softness from my voice. Jared’s very presence has always had a tranquilizing effect on me. From the corner of my eye, I notice Ben’s eyebrow spike as his gaze shifts to my arm, where the noticeable tattoo remains.

  “Wow, you look so . . . different.”

  I flick a few strands of my hair. “New job requirement.” A wobble in my voice belies my casual answer. I hate it.

  Jared’s attention turns to Ben, quickly scanning his upper body, before moving back to me. “What are you doing in Miami?”

  “I live here. I moved nine months ago.” Right after you ripped out my heart.

  “Huh, Lina didn’t say anything about that.” That’s because she would have tortured you if she could get away with it. My straight-laced friend has a mean streak just waiting to be unleashed, probably worse than mine. “We just moved here about . . . uh . . .” He frowns, seemingly flustered.

  “Two weeks ago,” Caroline finishes for him in her heavy southern drawl, adding, “into a fantastic condo by the water.” Her cheek rests against his shoulder. “Right, honey?”

  That seems to snap him out of it. “Yes. Right.” He bites his lip. “I got a welding job down here. Working on ships.”

  “Just like you always wanted,” I murmur, hazarding a direct look into his eyes. They’re still as piercing as always.

  “Exactly.” A small, quiet smile touches his lips. Jared’s never been a big grinner. Not like Ben. He’s naturally reserved, choosing to sit back and take the crowd in rather than lead the charge.

  There’s a long pause during which Jared simply stares at me and I grit my teeth and Caroline seems intent on molding herself to his body. This is beyond awkward. The only one who seems perfectly at ease is Ben. By the wide smile on his face, the bastard is enjoying this.

  He sticks a hand out. “Hi, I’m Ben.”

  With a slight nod, Jared accepts it. “Jared.”

  “The ex-husband, right?”

  Jared’s face twists with a hint of displeasure. “And this is Caroline.”

  Ben winks at her. “The mistress.”

  With a slight pucker, she tucks her hair behind her ear and offers, “The wife. Jared and I have been together since we were twelve.” As if that justifies everything. I hear the hidden message clearly. My marriage to him was a frivolous blip in their planned life of happiness.

  “Right.” The dryness in Ben’s voice is rare but unmistakable. He obviously doesn’t care if he offends anyone and he’s happy to pet the elephant in the room. Part of me wants to kiss him. The other wants to punch him square in the nose.

  Thankfully, he changes topic and tempo in a heartbeat. “Great place here, down by the water.”

  “I know, right?” Caroline’s eyes lighten up and I wonder if it’s all an act. If she’s really this cheerful and sweet. “I just love their coffee. I come here every morning.”

  I know this already. I know because last Tuesday I sat out on a park bench and waited almost an hour for her to appear. She comes in for her morning coffee at eight thirty. Then she walks four blocks west to an old renovated house where she’s an administrative assistant for an insurance brokerage. I know this because I followed her from the café to her place of work.

  And I am well aware that what I did is entirely unhealthy.

  “So you must have just gotten married. Congratulations.”

  Does Ben not miss a damn thing? Men are not supposed to notice these things. And men like Ben are definitely not supposed to notice these things. I shoot a “way-to-bring-that-up” glare his way but he ignores me, keeping his eyes on the happy couple.

  “Yes. Back in July, in Savannah. It was the most beautiful, classy wedding.”

  A perfectly targeted knife through my back, directly into my heart. As if that weren’t enough, I catch her thumb worm its way under the sleeve of Jared’s T-shirt, playfully drawing circles as she pushes the material up to reveal a new tattoo. A cloaked figure holding up a welding torch.

  Right where my name used to be.

  I close my eyes against the painful lump in my throat and the dull ache swelling inside my chest, wishing I were wearing a long-sleeved shirt or my riding jacket right now. Anything to cover up the tattoo that I haven’t rid my body of. I don’t doubt for a second that the move was completely intentional on her part. Caroline isn’t the sweet little Georgia peach she pretends to be.

  This is just too much to handle. I always knew that actually facing Jared for the first time since our appalling breakup would be difficult. I just never comprehended the magnitude of the ripple through my carefully guarded heart, seeing the very real and
very painful way in which he has moved on and, in so many ways, I have not.

  Jared clears his throat and lifts his arm over Caroline’s shoulder, effectively hiding the tattoo from my line of sight. “So, where are you working these days, Reese?”

  I’m still trying to find my voice when the sound of Ben’s chair scraping pulls me from my silent hell. “She works at my law firm,” Ben answers for me. He stands and takes my hand, hauling me out of my chair. I follow blindly.

  “Law firm?” Jared’s eyes spike with disbelief as Ben throws an arm over my shoulders. Now that Ben’s standing, the difference in size between the two of them is staggering. I always thought Jared was big, but he’s on the lean side in comparison.

  “One of the smartest women I’ve ever met. She has half the attorneys there running in circles to keep up, including me.” Peering down at me with that mischievous smile of his, he murmurs, “Isn’t that right, babe?”

  I offer him a tight-lipped smile.

  “In fact, she’s going to be stuck in the office helping me all weekend. But she’s amazing. She never complains about it. Right?” Ben’s eyes are on me, waiting expectantly.

  He’s got me in a corner and he knows it. I heave a sigh. “I do what I can.”

  He winks as if sealing our silent deal. And then the cocky asshole pulls me against him, close enough to lean down and kiss me right on the lips. He doesn’t even attempt to make it appropriate for the middle of a café and an audience, his tongue sliding in leisurely before finally breaking away.

  Under normal circumstances, that might have been a pleasant surprise because, despite having convinced myself that it was just the tequila, Ben actually is an incredible kisser. Right now, though, I’m just trying to come to grips with the first significant aftershock of the quake that rocked my world.

  I don’t know what the hell I’m feeling.

  All I know is that I’m a little light-headed, Jared is staring hard at me, and Caroline is staring at her husband, an odd, stony expression on her face.

  Ben’s free hand reaches back to get his wallet. He pulls out a twenty and tosses it onto the table to cover my bill. Grabbing his pie box, he offers, “Nice meeting you two. I need to get my girl back to work. We have a long weekend ahead of us.” Swiveling my stiff body around and toward the exit, he sticks a hand into my back pocket, getting a good grip of my left ass cheek that he emphasizes with a squeeze, and adds in that loud, obnoxious voice, “You know, I think you should help me paint my office red.”

  The air vanishes from my lungs as my cheeks burn.

  I’m going to gut him.

  And Mason, because Ben obviously found out about the red paint “incident” and my failed marriage from my stepbrother, who was just looking for a way to make me look bad, no doubt.

  Whistling softly, Ben guides me toward the exit. I don’t dare turn around. All I can focus on is putting one foot in front of the other and try my hardest not to cripple Ben with a sharp elbow to his ribs. “Thanks for reminding them about that!” I hiss between clenched teeth.

  “About what, the paint?” He lets out a loud snort. “You honestly think they don’t remember?” His hand escapes my pocket, freeing his arm to drape over my shoulders again. “I was just letting him know that I don’t care if my girlfriend is a complete whack job. I want to hear more about it sometime, though. I’m betting it’s a good story.”

  “Way to take advantage of the situation. Ten points for being a douchebag,” I mutter as we stop on the sidewalk and wait for the light to change.

  “I just helped you make your ex-husband jealous, so you’re welcome. I don’t do pretend boyfriend shit. I’m normally Switzerland. I went rogue for you, so be grateful.”

  “All out of the kindness of your heart?”

  “Definitely for an organ of mine,” I think I hear him mutter under his breath, and then I catch the crooked smile as he says more loudly, “Exactly. Don’t be a chick and read anything into it, okay?”

  The arm around my shoulder slides off, allowing him to reach up and grasp my chin. He pulls my face up to meet his crystal-blue eyes. “You still have a thing for him?”

  “No.”

  Obviously not believing me, he adds in a much softer timbre, “You know it took both of them, right?”

  “I know.”

  He sighs, and for the first time I don’t see humor anywhere in his face. “You’re not stupid, Reese. So don’t be one of those stupid girls who pines over an asshole. Especially one who’s married.”

  I hear him but I don’t, latching onto something he said earlier. “Do you really think that made him jealous?”

  “Damn straight it did. I saw the look on his face and so did that little tart wife of his. No way a guy who’s been in you wouldn’t be bothered watching someone else stick his tongue in your mouth.”

  “I think you should send that straight to Hallmark.” Ben sure knows how to boost a girl’s ego, I’ll give him that. If I weren’t so distraught over seeing how Jared permanently erased me from his arm, I might actually be capable of a smile.

  Ben’s typical charming, dimpled smile is back as he stares at me. “And thanks for not biting off my tongue back here.” There’s a pause, and then his eyes flicker behind me. “They’re coming out right now—no, don’t.” His fingers tighten their grip of my chin to keep me from turning back, keeping my eyes locked on his. “Too obvious. Want to really get under his skin? And hers, because I can guarantee you she didn’t like seeing the way he gawked at you.”

  The urge to irritate Caroline is impossible to ignore. My single nod is all the invitation Ben needs. Setting his boxed pie on top of a newspaper stand beside us, his hands find their place on the back of my neck and my ass as he pulls me into his body, this time with a kiss that should be reserved for behind closed doors. It even earns a few honks and hollers as cars drive past.

  When Ben finally releases me, it takes me a moment to remember why he was kissing me in the first place. “Are they still watching?” I whisper, a little breathless.

  “Shit. That wasn’t them after all. I should get my eyes checked.” His frown lasts two seconds before it twists into an impish grin and I know I’ve been duped.

  I pick up the pie sitting on the newsstand beside us.

  And I smash it into that broad chest.

  “How are you and Mason even friends?”

  Ben looks up from his file at me, his eyes glancing off my socked feet that sit on top of his desk. If that’s a hint, I don’t take it. If I’m going to sit in his office all weekend, I’m going to be comfortable. “What do you mean?”

  I answer with an eye roll. “You know exactly what I mean.”

  He leans back in his chair and stretches, giving me an appealing view of the ridges in his chest and shoulders. “What can I say? I’m a friendly guy. People like me. Especially hot little purple-haired chicks.”

  “Did you meet a lot of those in Cancún or did you branch out?” Great. I was just thinking how nice it was that Ben honored his promise not to bring any of that up, and now I’ve gone and mentioned it.

  His eyes narrow slightly as if he’s assessing me, deciding what to admit to. “I think most of them were blond. Except for the one from Spain. Oh . . . and a redhead.”

  Awesome. I’m not at all surprised. Not for one minute did I think I was anything except his night’s target. Puking all over this guy was probably my saving grace. “You must have been awfully tired after that,” I say with mock concern.

  He flashes those devil dimples at me. “Two of them were best friends, so . . . I was after that night.”

  I struggle to keep my jaw from dropping, because I have a gut feeling that Ben couldn’t be bothered to make things like that up. I may consider myself adventurous—Jared certainly thought so—but I don’t think I’d have the first clue about keeping up with a guy like Ben. He worked in a strip club, after all. “Have you always loved yourself this much?”

  “I had an awkward year in ’ninety-nin
e, but I got over it quick,” he offers with a chuckle, turning his attention back to his computer screen. It’s been hours since we came back from that disastrous run-in with Jared and Caroline, and Ben and I have sat in his office the entire time. I’ve kept myself busy going through the caseload, making notes on next steps and important dates, things I can knock off quickly, paperwork we can hand off to June and the other paralegals that don’t require much thought or interaction to complete. Between that and the light conversation, I’ve managed not to feel too down about Jared after all.

  Ben hasn’t cracked a single margarita or crawling joke. He hasn’t mentioned the public fondling he did of me on the street corner—thank God Jack wasn’t looking out his office window at that particular moment.

  It’s as if it didn’t even happen.

  I study his tanned, handsome face. That chest-constricting smile. After sitting in here with him for this long, as much as I hate to admit it, Ben’s not the bad guy I convinced myself that he’d be. Yes, he’s still cocky, obnoxious, and downright infuriating sometimes, but he works hard, he seems to genuinely respect Jack, and he’s nice to everyone. Even my nerdy stepbrother.

  So, maybe Jack forcing us together was a good thing. I have enough to be on edge about, without playing Mission Avoid Ben at Work. And now I won’t have to sit in Nelson’s office, thinking of ways to shank him and get away with it.

  “I was right.” I reach over and pick up the picture of a much younger Ben on a field, in his football uniform. A tiny brunette woman—his mother, I presume, though he looks nothing like her—stands beside him, a proud smile on her face. “How old were you here?”

  “Fourteen.”

  Really? I would have guessed at least sixteen. “You were a big kid.” And gorgeous. Even at that age, I can see that Ben would have had all the little girls batting their lashes. “You said you were injured, right?” I think I remember Ben saying something about that in Cancún. When he nods, I ask, “What made you become a lawyer?”

  “Honestly?” He pauses, tapping his pen against the pad. “I was going pro. There was no other way about it. Then some jackass plowed into my knee. Everything about the hit was dirty. The ball was out of my hand a good five seconds before that. The guy wanted me out for good. It wasn’t the first time he had done something like that. He shouldn’t have even been on the field.” He leans back in his chair, and a rare morose expression passes over his face. “The NCAA got involved, suspended the guy for one fucking game. I was pissed, but there wasn’t much I could do. Once the NCAA rules, they won’t change it. Still, I had to try. So I built a case against the guy myself—with specific names and dates and witnesses. His history.” I can see the spark of passion in Ben’s eyes. “I appealed the suspension. It didn’t change anything for me, exactly like I had expected. But when the idiot took another player out the next year, the case I’d built made sure he was out for the year.” Ben shrugs. “I couldn’t play anymore, but I figured sports law was something I might be good at. I know the ins and outs of this profession, beyond just the game—how to spot future talent, all the top schools, standard contract requirements and terms, and all that bureaucratic bullshit. I figured with some luck, I could do well.”