The Harder You Fall Read online

  He'd walked away again. And he didn't regret his failure to step up and stake a claim on Jessie Kay. Nope. Not even a little.

  Jase kissed his fiancee's knuckles. "You just made a huge tactical error, angel. Never tell a man a woman is a marshmallow."

  "Why not?" she asked, truly confused.

  Beck arched a brow. "Why else? Because he'll want to eat her."

  Harlow slapped his chest. "Oh, my gosh! You are such a pig."

  But the guy wasn't deterred. "Tell her, Westlina."

  He smiled without humor. "It's true. If the guy has a sweet tooth."

  "The way you were looking at my sister...you better not have a sweet tooth." Brook Lynn wagged a finger in his direction. "I worry about her enough, thank you very much. She lives alone in a crumbling house. She's struggling to make ends meet, and she's determined to trek the straight and narrow. There's no reason to tempt her onto the winding and wide."

  Do I tempt her?

  Every muscle in his body hardened like a rock. Every--single--one. "Don't worry. I prefer savory to sweet." At least, he always had before.

  The stiffening got worse as Jessie Kay strolled around a corner. Her navy gaze avoided him. Probably a good thing. The scent of her--pecans dipped in cream and sprinkled with cinnamon--invaded his senses, more potent than any drug, heating him to the point of sweltering, intoxicating him until his head spun. A warmth and high he'd missed with every fiber of his being. A warmth and high he couldn't allow himself to enjoy. The more he liked it, the more he'd crave it...the more difficult it would be to let go.

  Clearly, he needed to select his next relationship. He usually had someone hooked and reeled by August and thrown back into the sea by October, avoiding the holidays. The move to Strawberry Valley had screwed with his schedule.

  And even though sexual relief wouldn't be a cure-all, it would be a bandage, and that was good enough. Anything was better than nothing right now.

  "Y'all are suspiciously quiet." With a frown, Jessie Kay eased into her chair. "I don't like it. Makes me want to slap you to sleep, then slap you for sleeping. Someone say something before I go into detail about my last period."

  "Please say something," West said, almost desperate.

  Brook Lynn moaned. "Happy place, happy place."

  "Jessie Kay, why don't you tell everyone about the indoor soccer team you'd like to start," Harlow suggested.

  Beck set his beer on the table with a clink. "You want to start a team? Have you ever played?"

  "No, but I have plenty of experience knocking people around." Jessie Kay threw a one-two punch at air. "I just need a coach...someone like West. His skill is--"

  "Oh, no, no, no." West shook his head for emphasis.

  She ran her tongue over her teeth but still didn't face him. "Why not?"

  "We'd kill each other." And, more important, he'd be on her before the end of session one.

  "For all you know, I'm the next David Beckham," she said, lifting her chin.

  "Ball handling is not a skill you pick up like this." He snapped his fingers.

  Her gaze narrowed. Through a haze of fire and heat, a storm brewed, lightning flashing. "Well, good news. I'm already quite good at ball handling. Just ask your friends."

  He pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth.

  Brook Lynn moaned, once again hiding her face in her hands. "Happy place. Happy place."

  Beck choked on the drink he'd just taken.

  Harlow rubbed him between the shoulders, saying, "Jessie Kay Dillon, you lock that snark up tight right this second. You know my he-slut likes to pretend I'm the only woman he's ever been with. Reminders of past escapades only confuse him."

  Jessie Kay wilted, looking like the very picture of remorse and shame. "Sorry. My temper..."

  Maybe she was a marshmallow.

  "Wait. Did I just win our bet?" Brook Lynn vibrated with excitement. "Huh, huh, did I?"

  "No! Are you kidding me?" Jessie Kay pointed her fork at her sister. "You wipe that smile off your face. The parameters of our bet say something has to be thrown. A fist, an elbow, even a handbag."

  "Insults can be thrown," Brook Lynn insisted.

  "They sure can, but I just complimented myself. Everyone heard it." She flipped her silken hair over her shoulder, the feminine action making his gut clench. "Since West is being ridiculous, I'll just hire Beck--"

  "No way." Beck shook his head. "I love you like a sister, but no."

  She tried again. "Jase will--"

  "No, Jase will not." Jase gave a more insistent shake of his head. "I love you like a sister as well, but it ain't gonna happen."

  Jessie Kay released a heavy sigh. "Fine. I'll hire a stranger. If he falls in love with me, stalks me and murders me when I refuse to return his affection, it's on you guys. It's just... I neeeeed an outlet for my...temper." The most adorable blush spread all the way to the collar of her shirt. "Yes. My temper. You heard Brook Lynn doing her best to provoke me, right? She's a dirty, dirty cheater, and I can't allow her to beat me."

  How much farther did that blush go? How hot did it burn?

  Need for her, now sharper than razors, scraped at West's chest. He gripped the arms of his chair in an effort to fight the desire to reach for her.

  Just one touch...

  The waitress arrived a second later, handing out plates piled high with a chicken-fried-steak burger, smothered with cheese and gravy, tater tots on the side. She was a new hire, and he'd interacted with her a grand total of four times, but she smiled at him as if they were the best of friends. Something she hadn't done during his last three visits. He wondered if she'd looked him up and found out how much he was worth.

  Wouldn't be the first time.

  "Thank you," he muttered.

  "You are so welcome, honey."

  "Get a room," Jessie Kay said under her breath.

  The waitress pretended not to hear and bent down to whisper into his ear, "You want to put in an order for dessert? We're about to sell out of our world-famous brownie pie, but I'll put one aside if you'd like..."

  "Yes." His gaze returned to Jessie Kay. "I suddenly have a craving for something sweet."

  "Well, then, maybe you'd like a side of me instead?" With a wink, the waitress sauntered away to help another table.

  Jessie Kay took a bite of her burger. Her eyes closed, and she groaned the most rapturous sound of satisfaction. "Is this the best thing I've ever eaten? No." She scooped up a dollop of gravy with the tip of her finger and sucked it into her mouth. "But try to take it away from me, and I will cold-bloodedly murder you."

  West had to fight a sudden grin, oddly charmed by her brashness. Unlike the waitress, he'd never had to wonder about her motives. She enjoyed what she enjoyed, disliked what she disliked, and wanted what she wanted. Very little else ever factored into her decisions.

  "Try to take it away from her," Brook Lynn whispered to Jase. "Help me win the bet. Please, please, please."

  Jase's brows winged into the locks of hair hanging over his forehead. "Victory is more important than my life?"

  "At this precise moment? Yes!"

  The way they were together, leaning into each other, totally at ease, playful, flirty, assured of the other's affections, made West envious. Made him miss Tessa more than usual--her laugh, the way she broke into song at random times and danced around the room. He more easily forgot the hard times, when she'd sunk into a deep depression and refused to eat or leave their bed.

  Jessie Kay bumped her shoulder against his. "Hey. You never spoke up at the arena. You are paying for everything, right?"

  "Right."

  She raised her arm, signaling the waitress. "I'm gonna need one of these to go." She gave her sandwich a little wave. "Oh, and a dessert of my own. The brownie pie, to be exact. And don't try to tell me you're sold out. Bad things will happen."

  "But--"

  She hiked her thumb in West's direction. "Everything goes on his tab. He insisted."

  "Sure thing." Th
e waitress pursed her lips and hurried off.

  "Happy place," Brook Lynn muttered.

  "What?" Jessie Kay gazed around the table. "What'd I do this time?"

  Brook Lynn heaved a sigh. "Just because someone else is paying doesn't mean you should order the lobster."

  Those bedroom blues brightened. "They have lobster?"

  "Happy place. Happy place."

  Jessie Kay threw a tot at her sister. "Hey! I love you, and my lifelong goal is to show you just how much, but that's not going to stop me from shaking your brain out of your ear if you don't tell me whether or not they have lobster."

  "They do not."

  Jessie Kay's shoulders hunched with disappointment, and West had to fight another grin. She might not like him for his money, but she sure wasn't afraid to spend it. Strangely enough, he liked her more for it. She didn't give a shit about his opinion of her. A singular experience.

  The waitress reappeared, pouting at him. "Bad news. Because your sister demanded the last brownie pie, the only dessert we have left is the s'mores trifle. It's really good though. That okay with you, gorgeous?"

  "Sister?" Jessie Kay scowled. "Do I really look like his sister? I clearly come from grade-A stock while his ancestors made a few poor choices along the way."

  Singular creature. "Yes," he told the waitress. "I'll take the s'mores trifle, but make sure you add extra marshmallows."

  *

  THE NEXT WEEK flew by, with only a few necessary adjustments to West's schedule. Adjustments he made only because he'd found his next relationship. Monica Gentry, owner of Bodies by Monica.

  She'd shown up at WOH Industries on Wednesday, hoping to hire him to film her first workout video, not realizing he only created computer programs, video games and animated commercials. They'd had lunch instead.

  He'd found something familiar about her, but when he'd looked her up later that night, he'd realized he knew nothing about her. What he learned: A handful of her former employees hated her. They'd posted scathing reviews about her leadership style, calling her intense and neurotic. But who wasn't neurotic?

  And really, she'd had to be fierce to build her gym franchise from the ground up. A feat he admired. He and Beck had had to claw their way over, under and through wall after wall of rejection; but all the while West had continued creating games and programs and Beck had continued making calls and pitches, going door-to-door until Dane Michaelson of MG&E paid millions for exclusive rights to his flow software, a program tracking oil and natural gas from the ground to its buyer. Not only had the deal put WOH Industries in the crosshairs of other business, but Dane had become a close friend, even introducing West to Strawberry Valley, his hometown, which had led West to introduce Jase to the town when the desire to move struck.

  West glanced at the clock on his nightstand. 7:59 a.m. Beck's wedding was set to take place in three hours, one minute.

  He stood, made his bed, then showered for ten minutes, towel-dried for two, shaved for another ten and when he dressed, he ditched the usual Saturday-morning soccer gear in favor of a tux.

  He'd never thought this day would come and once upon a time he would have bet the bulk of his fortune Beck would remain forever single. Enter Harlow. The black-haired beauty had obsessed the guy from moment one, and in the end, he'd stepped up to be a better man for her.

  Would I have stepped up for Tessa if she'd survived the crash?

  The real question: Would he have gotten clean?

  During her depressions, nothing he'd said or done had helped her. Guilt and frustration had eaten at him and more often than not, he'd ended up doubling his hit. And his hangover. And his bad mood. His bad mood had only fed hers. A poisoned cycle.

  He glanced at the clock. 8:40 a.m. Right on time. Yesterday he'd called and asked Monica to accompany him to the wedding. She was an attractive woman in her late twenties, and she fit his usual criteria. Uncomplicated, eager, and he could take her or leave her. He didn't crave her more than air to breathe and when they were apart, he didn't wish they were together.

  He stalked into the kitchen where Beck stood at the stove, flipping pancakes with a surprisingly steady hand, the features many had referred to as "half angelic, half demonic" utterly relaxed and--joyous?

  West took a seat at the table. "This is weird. You should be freaking out, demanding I help you sneak out of the country. Instead you're making breakfast."

  His friend smiled, a peek at the angelic side. "I'm giving Harlow my name, legally binding her to my side. Why would I freak out?"

  West could think of several reasons. "Your life will be forever altered. You'll be set on a new, uncharted path and your happiness will be inexorably tied to someone else's."

  "I mentioned Harlow will be legally bound to me, right? My life will be forever altered in the best way. I'll traverse that new, uncharted path with her rather than alone, and my happiness is already inexorably tied to her. She's my other half."

  He envied his friend. He couldn't imagine being so optimistic. Not by marrying Tessa. Not by sleeping with Monica. Not even by sleeping with Jessie Kay.

  Something low in his gut curled with heat. Maybe he'd feel a little optimism if he had the blonde in his bed.

  He'd purposely avoided her all week, hadn't so much as ordered a sandwich. Anytime she'd come up in conversation, he'd left the room. If he'd thought about her, he'd quickly distracted himself with work or exercise.

  He'd worked and exercised a lot.

  To his consternation, she'd remained at the forefront of his mind, a fascination he couldn't shake. He'd even considered detouring from his usual MO--a feat in and of itself--and sleeping with her once, just once. No harm, no foul.

  Problem was "just once" had never worked out for him in the past.

  Beck slid a stack of pancakes in front of him, saying, "You've been spacing out a lot lately, thinking about Jessie Kay." A statement rather than a question. "Don't try to deny it. I recognize the signs. A glaze of hunger in the eyes. Tightness around the mouth. A muscle jumping in the jaw. Jase had the same look when he met Brook Lynn. I'm made of stronger stuff, of course, and managed to keep my cool with Harlow."

  "No, I--"

  "Even now your hands are clenched."

  West studied his hands--yep, they were clenched. He eased the pressure on his fingers, saying, "Don't kid yourself. You were practically foaming at the mouth with Harlow."

  "You do realize you're describing yourself right now, yes?" Beck didn't give him time to reply. "Why are you resisting your smart-ass Southern belle anyway? If you think Jase and I care--"

  "I don't." He leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms. "Would you resent me if you found out I'd slept with Harlow before you fell for her?"

  A light sprang to life in Beck's eyes. "Ah. I get it. You're afraid you'll get possessive of your girl and pissy with your bros."

  West adjusted his cuff links, gave a clipped nod.

  "As Jessie Kay would say, you're letting the horse out of the stall before the race has even started." Beck tossed back a bite of pancake. "Let's say you spent years with Harlow, banging the hell out of her. Today, this moment, it wouldn't affect how I feel about either of you. You were her past, and I'll always be her future. I love you both. I need you both. I'll take you both however I can get you."

  An ache razed his chest. Were things really that simple?

  "What's doing?" Jase padded into the kitchen. His dark hair stuck out in spikes. He was shirtless, wearing only a pair of faded sweatpants.

  "West is deciding whether or not to make a move on Jessie Kay," Beck replied.

  "I change my vote to no. Unless you're going to give her a real shot." Jase scratched his chest. "She's better for you than she ever was for us, but there will be serious aftermath when you dump her."

  When, not if. The end was never in question.

  West pursed his lips. "You handled the aftermath of your one-night stand just fine."

  "And who says she'd want more than two months wit
h him, anyway?" Beck asked. "Who says she won't dump him?"

  Yes. Who said.

  He scrubbed a hand down his face. "If I did date her, and I did dump her, and there was aftermath, your girls would hate me."

  Jase poured a glass of orange juice. "Agreed. Brook Lynn can forgive anything--except an insult to her sister."

  "But the girls love us and wouldn't try to block you from our lives," Beck said.

  "Is that what's had your panties in such a twist?" Jase asked.

  "Maybe." Agitated, West glanced at his wristwatch. Nine-sixteen. Shit. He'd planned to leave the house by nine-ten. "I've got to pick up Monica. I'll meet you guys at the church."

  He made up the lost minutes on the road. He'd taken defensive driving classes a few years ago as research for a video game, and the skills he'd learned had come in handy ever since.

  As he parked in Monica's driveway, his phone beeped. He glanced at the screen, his gut tightening when he saw Jessie Kay's name.

  Which pair do you prefer?

  Two photos accompanied the text. The first, a glittery heel with silk flowers sewn over the ankle strap. The second, a plain white flat.

  He wrote back: Why does my preference matter?

  Because your best friend is getting married & the woman he loves wants every detail to be perfect. You know him better than anyone else so... :-) :-) :-)

  Your shoes are part of those perfect details?

  Oh, those are Harlow's shoes. She can't decide between fashion & comfort, even though no one but Beck will see her feet--& he won't see them till he strips her down & gives her the business. I should know, right!

  His grip flexed on the phone. She loved reminding him of her past, didn't she?

  Then her next text came in and he forgot why he was irritated with her.

  THESE are mine. :-) :-)

  The accompanying photo revealed black hooker heels with a fat red bow perched on the ankle. A present ready to be unwrapped. With his teeth. After he stripped her and tossed her on the bed.

  Sex fantasy about Jessie Kay? Now? Really? He punched the wheel, the horn releasing a short but thunderous blast.

  A few seconds later, Monica strode out the door, and he felt like a total douche for not greeting her properly. Despite the frigid temperature, she wore a little black dress with spaghetti straps and a hem that ended a few inches below her pantyline. No hat, coat or gloves to keep her warm, proving she placed fashion before comfort. She didn't race to the car but held up her index finger to demand he wait.