Five Ways to Fall (25 page)

BEN

I’m not used to quiet Reese. Right now, sitting in the passenger seat of my Jetta, peering at me from above slanted sunglasses as the early evening sunset beats through my windshield, I’d think someone has cut out her tongue.

Of course, that doesn’t stop my eyes from drifting over her body—again—to take in her white dress. I don’t know styles besides “short and tight,” but whatever the hell Reese is wearing, I like it. The top makes her tits look bigger than normal and, while I can’t see her ass with all that fabric on the bottom, I sure as hell remember exactly what’s there. All in all, for a guy with a healthy imagination, I can’t keep my attention off her.

Not just because she’s stunning. Because I
missed
seeing her. I haven’t seen her since I went by her house four days ago, she was
that
sick. I’m just so happy she made it. I didn’t think she would.

A throat clearing and an arched brow tells me she’s had enough of my ogling. “You must be hot in that.”

“Yeah,” I mutter, climbing out of my car and into the late-day heat, reminding myself for the tenth time that I
have
to keep the tie on until after the ceremony.

“Sorry, no red in my closet,” she explains with a little smirk as she steps out and onto the driveway, holding her dress out.

“Nothing at all?”

She shrugs and begins walking ahead, giving me a fine view of those legs. I’m still wondering if that nipple ring is the only thing hidden under there. “Nothing you’ll be privy to,” she throws over her shoulder.

“Huh. I thought the freaking-hot lawyer had a shot.” I almost drew blood that day, biting down on my tongue to stop from laughing out loud when I overheard her talking to her friend on the phone. And then they started going on about vibrators and . . . damn! I’ve been with a few chicks who like to pull their toys out of the drawer when I’m over. Those nights have always been memorable.

The look Reese shoots me over her shoulder, her cheeks bursting with color, makes me raise my hand in surrender. I’ve learned enough to know that Reese may act tough but she does not like being embarrassed. The last thing I want to do is piss the little commando off.

“What kind of party did you say this was again?” Reese asks, studying two of Penny’s strippers walking up the path ahead of us, both in skin-tight dresses that would get a mannequin off.

No way was I going to tell her the truth. She’d never agree to come. “The kind of party that you have fun at.” I smoothly loop an arm through hers and begin leading her around the side of the Miami mansion that overlooks the beach. God knows she may still run. But for now, she slowly matches my steps along the path. “So I’m clear, am I just a casual date or the new girlfriend?”

“Casual date. No one who knows me would believe otherwise.” I shoot my winning smile at her as I add, “A highly amorous one, of course. I wouldn’t have brought you otherwise.”

I catch her tiny eye roll as we round the corner. And then her feet stall like a skittish cat facing a bath as all the white folding chairs and the archway come into view.

“You brought me to a fucking
wedding
?” she hisses and I instinctively flex my arm around hers.

“Don’t swear; it’s bad luck.”

By the way her fingernails are digging into my forearm, I’m starting to regret going with the element of surprise. “I’m in
white
, Ben!”

“And you look damn fine,” I assure her, but her eyes are closed and her head’s already shaking in that “God, you’re such an idiot” way.

“You can’t wear white to a wedding! I’ll look like I’m trying to compete with the bride.”

“Oh, fuck. Don’t worry about that. You can’t compete with her.”
Shit
. I heave a sigh. “I mean . . .” Even
I
know I’ve just stuck both feet into my mouth, and the flat glare I get confirms it. “That came out wrong. You know what I mean. Come on.” I give her a tug forward. “Let’s get a drink. They’ll have the good stuff out.” Knowing Storm, the bar well will be stocked with only the best for their guests.

“Please tell me you know these people, Ben. And that they know I’m coming? Because I’m feeling like an offensive wedding crasher right now.”

“Relax. Storm and Dan are two of my closest friends. And, yes, they know you’re coming.” When I phoned last night to tell Storm that I was bringing a date, she of course grilled me a bit and scolded me for waiting until the eleventh hour but then giggled, saying she couldn’t wait to meet her. She’s great like that.

Reese’s perfectly shaped eyebrow spikes. “Her name is
Storm
?”

I expected that. “Old stage name, yeah. The pregnant woman whose pie you destroyed last week? She’s the one getting married today.” Greeting the bartender, I order two shots of tequila and a bottle of Corona.

“No tequila,” Reese argues with a furious headshake.

“Oh, come on. You’ll need it to deal with me.” This act will work better if I can remove that rod from Reese’s spine.

“Why? Are
we
getting married too?” I love how she cracks jokes to downplay her irritation. Especially ridiculous ones like that.

“Babe, the only way a wedding ring is landing on this finger of mine is if I’m in a coffin.”

“You may be in one by the end of tonight,” she mutters more to herself, and then tells the waiting bartender, “I’ll have a Jim Beam, neat. Thanks.”

“Jeez. Guitar playing . . . Harley riding . . . bourbon . . . Do you even like men?” I tease as the guy pours and hands her the drink.

“Not right now,” she throws back in a dry tone as she takes a healthy sip. At least she hasn’t pulled away from me yet. That’s good. It gives Mercy—who I see in my peripherals, standing with her partner in crime, Hannah—less room to attach herself. Not that it would necessarily deter her.

“Isn’t that the Twinkie in the blue?” Reese’s brow pulls together as she assesses the stripper’s extremely short blue dress.

“Yeah. You want another introduction?” Leaning in close to her ear—she smells like strawberries and cream again today—I whisper, “The one on the left may be more your type, though.” The words are barely out of my mouth when Reese’s bony elbow collides with my ribs.

I watch her observing them, her eyes narrowing slightly, her fingers smoothing her skirt out, tugging it this way and that. She’s normally so hard-edged that her sudden self-consciousness is a nice, humanizing change. “Do you actually like all that silicone?” she finally asks.

“It has its merits,” I admit but add quickly, “Girls like that get boring quick, though. And I prefer your tits. Though I think I need a refresher on them.” I’m not lying, either. About either assertion.

“Another Hallmark sentiment.” Her caramel eyes shift up to stare at me, as if weighing my words for their truth and deciding what kind of smart-ass remark she should fling at me. As her lips part, I’m tempted to test this fake date out and shut her up with a kiss—that I damn well know she’ll enjoy—but before I get the chance, a familiar hand slams down on my shoulder.

“I thought you were dead in a ditch somewhere,” Nate’s deep voice rumbles.

It’s always fun to watch a new person take in Nate’s size for the first time. Reese does not disappoint, her eyes widening as they scan the head of security at Penny’s. I don’t blame her. The guy is almost three hundred pounds of solid muscle. It was Nate who sat me down in a hard plastic chair and hammered me with question after question before even letting me meet Cain for a job. The sheer size of him—bigger than any left tackle I ever played with during college ball—kept my mouth shut beyond simple “yes” and “no” answers.

I clasp hands with him. “I know, man. This day gig is killing me right now. Steep learning curve.” I’m used to seeing him every night, but aside from a quick phone call and a few texts, I haven’t talked to him in weeks. One of a few downfalls to growing up and moving on. “Nate, this is Reese.” I pull her tight to me again. “She’s my date.”

“Date?” He chuckles. “I guess you don’t know Ben very well yet.”

She doesn’t miss a beat. “He lied and used medicinal narcotics to bribe me into coming here, so I think I have him pretty well pegged.”

Nate’s head falls back as a deep bellow of laughter escapes him, earning more than a few curious looks. “Where’d you two meet?”

Tilting her head slightly to the side as she eyes me, I see the devilish smile curling her lips. “I work at Warner.”

“Lawyer?”

“Yes. Soon to be partner. In fact, I’m training him.” It should probably bother me that she’s openly lying to one of my best friends, but I’m actually amused. She’s convincing, too.

Another big grin from Nate. It seems that Nate’s got a lot of big grins for Reese. “And how’s our boy doing?”

“To be honest, he’s a little
slow
. I’m not sure he’ll make it.”

Well, it’s good to see she’s gotten over her initial discomfort.

Another roar of laughter from Nate has me holding my hands up in surrender as a flash of red whizzing past catches my eye. “All right, you two. You have all night. Don’t tire yourselves out early at my expense. Kacey!” I holler, waving at the feisty siren, the only woman I’ve ever considered committing to. If she wasn’t already practically married to Trent, that is.

“What?” she snaps as she rushes over. But she quickly tempers that with a kiss on my cheek before grabbing my beer from my hand and taking a long swig of it.

“You look hot.”

That gorgeous face of hers splits into a wide smile. I still can’t get enough of those; they were so few and fake when I first met her. “Now’s not the time to hit on me. I’ve got to get back to the bride. Wait until later, when Trent’s around and can kick the shit out of you, okay?”

I chuckle as she hands me my beer, remembering the night a few years back that Trent and I got loaded and I, like the complete jackass that I am, mentioned what happened between Kacey and me in the women’s locker room at the gym, way back when. I only meant it as a compliment for what he’s got.

Trent’s got a solid right hook when he’s pissed.

Turning to level Reese with those crystal-blue eyes, Kacey wastes no time asking, “Who’s this?”

“Reese. Wedding hostage.” Reese’s deceptively delicate hand juts out.

“And your new best friend,” I add. “You both like to break my balls, so I figure you’ll get along well.” With her sharp wit and temper, Reese actually reminds me
a lot
of Kacey, so I think they’ll either be fast friends or tear each other’s hair out in a catfight. Either would be entertaining to witness.

Kacey’s face lights up. “Sounds about right. I’ve got tons of unflattering pictures to make you reconsider being here with him. We’ll bond over Ben’s misery later.”

“Perfect.” I knew that night was going to come back to bite me in the ass.

With lightning-fast reflexes—Kacey used to spend hours at the gym kickboxing—she reaches up and pinches my nipple through my shirt before stalking away, that evil cackle of hers filling the air.

“I swear, between the two of you, I’m going to be in the hospital soon,” I mutter, rubbing my chest.

From somewhere behind us, the violinist begins playing music, signaling the need to sit. Nate leans in, out of Reese’s earshot, and murmurs, “Sounds like Mercy was really looking forward to seeing you today.”

“Fuck,” I mutter, shaking my head and then heaving a sigh. “She knows me better than to expect something.”

Nate’s severe glare—the whites of his big eyes a stark contrast to his ebony skin—lets me know that excuse isn’t going to fly. “Well, it’s looking like she doesn’t, so you better straighten that shit out. Just because you’re not working for Cain anymore doesn’t mean I won’t beat your ass.”

He’s not kidding, either. Both Nate and Cain take a special interest in making sure people don’t take advantage of the dancers at Penny’s. Best friend or not, good intentions or not, I’m going to end up with two black eyes over this, even if
I
wasn’t the one showing up in anyone’s bedroom.

“Got it, man. Trust me, that’s over.”

I hear a “dumbass” slip out as Nate walks away, followed by that low chuckle of his.

“Your friend looks like he wants to kill you,” Reese, ever observant, says as we make our way to find a seat. I’m catching a lot of nods and smiles thrown my way from familiar faces. Pretty much the entire staff of Penny’s—anyone who knows Storm, anyway—is here.

“That’s why you’re here. To make sure he doesn’t.” She lets me entwine my fingers through her hand as I lead her toward the back right corner and into two available seats, as far away from Mercy as possible. “Remember that girl who came by my office?”

“The Twinkie?”

“Mercy, yeah. I need to keep things platonic between us and you are going to help me do that. But you can’t be mean to her, okay?”

“
Moi?
” Reese says with mock innocence, her free hand clutching her chest as she scans the crowd, quickly settling on the back of Mercy’s head.

“I’m serious, Reese. She’s a friend, but I think she may have gotten the wrong idea.”

Reese’s glare is full of suspicion as she asks dryly, “And why would she get the wrong idea, Ben?”

I give her a knowing look. “Kind of hard to say no to her when she’s throwing herself at me.”

Shaking her head, she mutters, “You don’t even try to hide what you are, do you?”

All I’ve got to answer that with is a shrug.

“I guess you did kind of save the day for me with my ex last week,” she says with a sigh, though clearly unimpressed.

“And you didn’t exactly hate it, did you,” I remind her with a smile. And she didn’t hate the afternoon at my mama’s, either.

“God, you are so damn cocky.” The tiniest smile softens her tone. With a heavy sigh, she reaches up to lay a hand on my cheek. She pulls my face closer, until I feel her hot breath against my ear. Her lip grazes my lobe as she asks in a low voice, “Is this amorous enough?”

“Uh . . .” I clear my throat as shivers run down my back. “Yeah, that’ll work.” To give me a raging hard-on before the bride even walks down the aisle. If the incident with Mrs. Cooke the other day tells me anything, it’s that I’m gonna regret asking Reese to do this by the end of the night. This girl enjoys torturing me.