Five Ways to Fall (32 page)

I let her get one scratch across my collarbone in and a few solid fingerprints over my throat before I shove her away.

Nicki intercepts any further attack by firmly holding her arms to her side. I’ve seen her put people in headlocks before, so this is rather gentle. I doubt it’s necessary, though. By Caroline’s splotchy red face and the way she’s smoothing out her dress, she’s embarrassed. “I’m filing a restraining order against you.”

I dab a tissue that Lina provided against the scratch along my neck. It comes back with a few spots of blood. “Good luck with that. I haven’t done anything wrong. If you’ll recall, I moved
away
from you.
I
have never approached either of you.” Well, that is technically a lie, but she doesn’t know about the paintball. “
I
did not get your new phone number.
I
did not message Jared first. And
I
certainly did not just physically attack you. In front of witnesses. I’m just here, celebrating with my co-workers. And my boyfriend,” I add, gesturing to Ben, who shoots an exasperated look my way while Mason has one of his own for his friend. “Maybe I should be filing a restraining order against
you
? What do you think?” Just to be a complete ass, I ask Lina. “What do
you
think?”

“I think the court would be on your side, but I’m no lawyer.” Turning slightly, Lina muses, “What do you think, lawyers? Would Reese have a case here?”

Mason pushes a hand through his hair for the tenth time. I wonder what’s stressing him out more—being in a women’s bathroom or having no clue what the hell is going on and who Caroline is. Clearing his throat, he manages to get out, “I believe Reese would have a very strong case. In fact, we should call the police and file assault charges right now.”

I don’t believe it. Jiminy Cricket is actually defending me. Sure, it probably has more to do with him wanting to please my best friend, but . . .

I’m going to buy him a club-sized pack of Lysol wipes as a thank you.

“Caroline?” We all turn to find Jared stepping into the women’s washroom with what I presume is the manager behind him. I make sure any trace of a smile is wiped clean off my face as I clutch my throat a little more obviously. Not that Jared is necessarily going to buy the wounded act coming from me, but . . . “What’s going on in here?” He looks from her to me, to the paper towel across my neck, and back to her with surprise. “Tell me you didn’t just attack Reese in the bathroom.”

Caroline’s face turns an even darker, more unflattering shade of red. I think the sweet little Georgia peach has been caught with her prissy drawers down, exposing the very unladylike underside that she prefers to hide.

“I’m not going to press charges. I just want to go back to celebrating Ben’s night with him.” Looping arms with Ben, who’s still watching me with an odd look on his face, I walk out of the bathroom and down the hall with my head held high, the others trailing.

“We’ll catch up to you guys in a minute,” Ben calls out, pulling me back and into a small alcove near a service entrance, off from the main room and away from spectators.

“Sure. Maybe Lina can fill me in while we wait,” Mason mutters, shooting me a glare as they continue on.

Ben lifts my chin with his finger to inspect the scratch. “It’s not too bad.”

“Unless she’s rabid.”

That earns a small smile. “She
was
practically foaming at the mouth. I’m surprised you didn’t hit her back. Then again, I figure that all went down exactly like you wanted it to, didn’t it, Miss Devious?” The smile falls slightly as he asks a little bit more softly, “Was
all
of this for
him
?” I hear the question behind it.
Was any of tonight for me?

Shit
. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe Ben does actually care.

Ben’s eyes drift to my mouth, reminding me of last weekend, making me feel as though I’ve somehow just betrayed him. Even though I
haven’t
, because we’re just friends, something both of us were adamant about.
Are
adamant about. Still, I’m starting to feel a little bit guilty.

“Hey, Reese, are you okay?” I guess we’re not as well hidden as we think, because Jared has easily found us.

“She’s fine. Take your crazy wife and get out of here,” Ben answers for me, his hands tightening around my waist as if to hold me in place.

Jared’s gaze hardens as he stares at Ben. I’ve seen Jared turn into a hothead before, ready to pick a fight.

“Don’t even think about it, man,” Ben murmurs in warning. “Just turn around and take that welted ass of yours home.”

He did not just say that.

Jared’s light green eyes narrow as if processing, darting from me to Ben and back to me. And . . . there it is. The recognition.
Oh my God.
My stomach just dropped to the worn wood floors. I’m going to kill Ben.

Jared opens his mouth to say something, but a sobbing Caroline comes out of the ladies’ room and, from the looks of it, she’s being escorted out of the restaurant by the manager. With a small head shake, Jared turns and follows her, his jaw set with annoyance.

Ben pulls me around the other side of the alcove, until we’re practically in the kitchen.

“I can’t believe you just outed me like that! Now
he’s
going to file a restraining order!”

“No he’s not. And no judge will grant it, anyway,” Ben states, shaking his head. “Please tell me you don’t actually want that asshole back?”

“No.”
Maybe.
“I want to hurt him,” I admit openly. It’s the truth, and when I say it out loud, I can’t help but accept that Lina is right: I am a bad, bad person. I also can’t help but think that maybe this is too much drama for Ben. Maybe he’s going to throw his hands up right now and hightail it out of here.

And something about the idea of that pricks at my stomach.

Ben nods slowly as if he somehow understands, as if he gets me. That doesn’t mean I can’t see the disappointment in his light blue eyes, dousing my moment of malicious glory. “You know you’re only going to hurt yourself in the end, right?”

“It’s a risk, yes.”

“Well then why bother? You could be spending all that effort impressing
me
.”

That earns a raised brow. “To what end?”

“To a king-sized bed with Buzz Lightyear sheets,” he answers matter-of-factly.

The snort escapes unbidden. Well, at least he’s consistent. Folding my arms over my chest, I challenge, “You do not have Buzz Lightyear sheets.”

He shrugs, his eyes dipping down the top of my dress. “Only one way to find out.”

Checking behind him, likely to ensure we have no spectators, he turns back to stare at me for a long moment, his eyes searching my features. I’m still a little high on revenge fumes, but I’m pretty sure the sudden quickening beat of my heart has more to do with flashbacks of being in the pool with Ben than to anything related to Jared.

“I need to get out of here before I get into trouble.” There’s a slight pause, and then a sly smile makes those dimples all the more prominent. “And you have to make up for lying to me.”

“You live in a frat house,” I state, taking in the sizeable brown brick house in an older part of Miami.

Ben’s friend Nate’s deep chuckle fills the interior as Ben explains, “It’s not a frat house. It’s just a big house where six guys who went to college together live.”

“You sure about that?” I climb out of Nate’s Navigator to hear shouts from the porch as a group of guys chug their beers to a chorus of something that sounds like an Irish drinking song. “Because I don’t think your roommates know yet.”

Slapping the hood and thanking his friend for the ride, Ben ropes his arm around my shoulders just as Mason’s Subaru pulls up behind us. “Didn’t even want to be separated from me for a car ride, did you?” he says with a smirk.

“Have you ever ridden anywhere with Mason?” I had to once, for a total of twenty minutes, to get a ride to campus when the Audi was in for a tune-up and it was raining too hard to ride my bike. When Ben shakes his head, I explain, “He signals half a mile away from his turns.”

“And I’ll bet you pointed that out to him.”

“It’s a public safety risk!”

“Hey, Mace! How’s that signal indicator working?” Ben shouts, looking over my shoulder.

I turn in time to see Mason throw an annoyed glare my way. And then he stumbles over a crack in the sidewalk and drops his keys.

“It’s a good thing that guy is so smart,” Ben murmurs with a smirk as he leads me forward, away from my two best friends, who have been wearing those same scowls since the bar. That’s the other reason I avoided the car ride—I don’t want to deal with an intervention right now.

We climb the stairs to the porch, Ben’s arm around me the way I’d imagine a boyfriend’s would be, giving lazy high-fives to a few of the guys standing there.

“Why are you still living like a frat guy?” I ask as he pushes the door open.

I get my answer immediately.

“Because it’s not a frat house; it’s a brothel,” I correct as I take in the crowd of people milling about. Some are just lounging on couches with beers in hand and college-aged girls perched on their laps while they giggle and shout over the baseball game on the television. But others are circling a small group of scantily clad and disproportionately figured women, pretending to be interested by what they’re saying, all while their pants are stretched over their crotches with hopes of what tonight may bring. “Why am I not surprised?” I shout over the shitty house music, courtesy of a guy and his mixing table in the corner.

Ben’s shaking his head in denial but he’s smiling. “These girls aren’t like that.” My doubtful stare has him elaborating, “They’re Penny’s girls. They just dance.”

“Really? And the Twinkie? Does she just dance for you?” Why is it that she’s really annoying me tonight?

People start noticing Ben and a loud roar of approval and clapping erupts.

He chuckles, pulling me in farther. “Do you remember Travis? From Cancún?” Ben asks as we come face-to-face with a tall, shaggy-haired decent-looking guy.

The guy sticks his hand out. I’ll bet the confused look on his face matches mine. At least I wasn’t the only shit-faced one down there that night. “Did we meet?”

I point to my head. “Used to be all purple, if that helps.”

His eyes widen. “No way!” He turns to look at Ben. “You finally found her?”

What?
“Ben was looking for me?”

“She works with me,” Ben explains to his friend, tightening his arm around my neck until my cheek is pressed up against his chest.

“Man, I can’t tell you how pissed he was when you didn’t leave your number,” he tells me with a laugh. “He kept going on and on about you.”

Oh, this is getting better and better
. “Seriously?” I manage to twist my head until I’m looking directly up at Ben’s square jaw. “Were you pining over me all this time, Ben?” I know he doesn’t pine, so this guy is clearly teasing him, but it’s still funny to see Ben getting instead of giving for once.

Ben shakes his head, but he’s laughing when he calls his friend a liar. Leaning down to press his mouth against my ear, he murmurs, “No, I just really wanted a new shirt.”

I roll my eyes and try to pull away from Ben. It’s futile. I’m trapped against him and he seems unwilling to budge. I decide to just go with it, burrowing into him and staying there while he and his friend talk about some football trade for a pool they’re in.

So when my phone starts vibrating in my back pocket, I don’t hesitate to slide it out to read the text:

Was that really you?

My heart jumps.

“No, no, no,” Ben mutters, his full attention on me again as he swiftly pries my phone from my hand.

“Nosey!” I smack his face away as he raises his arm high above his head with a grin. I don’t doubt he’d like me to scale him like a tree, but I’m not going to
.

“He broke that black heart of yours. And now he’s
married.
Don’t be stupid.”

“He’s just making sure he has his facts straight before he has me arrested!” I snap, adding, “And I thought you were Switzerland.”

Cupping the back of my neck with his hand, he stares down at me with sincere blue eyes. “I am. I’m also a concerned friend. Don’t answer him. Nothing in writing. That’s my legal advice.” He looks over my shoulder and bellows, “Hey, Lina! Come talk some sense into your crazy friend for me.”

I glare up at him but he only smiles, dipping down to lay a quick kiss right on my lips. “You’re not leaving me like this tonight.”

“Like what?”

He tugs my body flush against his and I get my answer, a second before two fierce hands grab hold of each of my forearms. Nicki and Lina, tag-teaming to drag me outside to the porch while my eyes stay locked with Ben’s.

“Okay, spill it MacKay,” Lina demands, practically pushing me into one of the few lawn chairs available. Thankfully we don’t have an audience, now that the guys have moved their drinking shenanigans inside.