When I Fall

What the hell is it about this woman that makes me feel lighter?

Sliding her hand down, it settles on her chest as she recovers slowly from her laughing fit. “What do you do anyway? Like for work?”

I let the chilled root beer quench my thirst before I answer. “Construction. I work for my family’s company.”

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah, I love it. It’s all I’ve ever known, but I don’t think I’m missing out on anything. I like hard work, earning that beer at the end of the day. It’s really important to me. I’ll probably be just like my grandfather and do it until I can’t fucking walk anymore.”

“When it rains, you don’t have to work?” she asks, rubbing her thumb along the condensation that’s built up on her glass as the smallest crease pinches her eyebrows together.

“No, it usually shuts everything down. We don’t get that much rain here, so it’s not too bad. We’ve never gotten behind on a job.”

I down the rest of my drink when Beth picks her glass up, and it’s then I realize that I haven’t asked her any questions. I don’t know anything about her, yet she seems so strangely familiar to me.

“Hattie told me the other night you just moved in with them. Did you leave the rest of your family in Kentucky?” I ask, setting my empty glass at the edge of the table for the waitress to pick up. Maybe she’s just visiting with her aunt for the summer.

She shifts in her seat while her hands fall to her lap, pulling at the bottom of her dress. I know this because of the way the material moves against her stomach. She’s fidgeting all of a sudden. Why? Isn’t this what we’re supposed to be doing?

“No, I don’t have any other family,” she answers anxiously, and I suddenly feel like a dick for causing the change in her demeanor. “My momma died a few months ago. She was all I had.”

Shit. “I’m sorry.”

The corner of her mouth lifts ever so slightly. “She had some issues, but she was a good mom. When she died, it was really hard not having anybody. I didn’t know about my aunt until right before I moved here a few days ago.”

I want to ask more about her mom, but I don’t want her getting sad. “Your dad?”

“Don’t know him. I don’t even know if my momma knew who he was.” She scrapes her teeth along her bottom lip. “Sorry, there’s not much to tell about me. I don’t have a job yet. The only family I have are my aunt and uncle. I’m twenty-two, I love to read, and I’m really, really glad I’m here.”

Here. Alabama? Or here, here? With me?

I smile, hoping to ease some of the worry that’s making her tense up on me. “I think what you’ve just told me is plenty.”

The tension dissolves from her body, and she reaches for the check the waitress dropped off sometime during this conversation. How did I miss that?

“I’ll pay half. You put up an impressive fight.”

The fuck she will.

I grab the check from her, stand from the booth, and reach for my wallet. After throwing sixty bucks on the table to cover our meal and a generous tip, I tuck my wallet back in my pocket.

“Another thing you should know about me,” I tell her, watching those eyes of hers gauge me with blunt intensity. “When we’re together, you don’t pay. Even if I would’ve won you wouldn’t be paying, and any guy that takes you out like this and expects you to cover any part of the meal, is a dick.”

“But this wasn’t a date or anything.”

I brace one hand on the ledge of the booth behind her, flatten my other hand on the table, and lean down, getting inches from her face. I’m expecting her to back up, or maybe startle a bit at my intrusion, but fuck me if she doesn’t tilt her head up, welcoming it.

“It doesn’t matter what this was. If you ever go out with a guy and he makes you pay, don’t go out with him again. You understand?”

She stares at my mouth. “Is that an Alabama thing? Are all the guys here like you?”

I straighten up, giving her a smirk that brings out that damn smile of hers. I had my cocky response ready, but my face breaks into a grin and wipes my memory of whatever line I was about to give her.

“Shit,” I mumble, running my hand over my jaw as she stands from the booth.

How can a fucking smile knock me off my game? It’s a smile. It’s not like she’s pulling her dress off, and then beaming up at me like that with her tits out. That would definitely prevent me from coming back at her with something. My mouth would be too busy worshipping every part of her.

She looks up at me. “What?”

I form my hand to her lower back and move her with me through the restaurant. “I don’t know. Just pretend I said something really witty. And maybe give a guy a warning next time you’re planning on smiling like that.”

“A warning?” she asks, hesitantly as we step outside. Her eyes cast upward to the sky. “Oh hey, it stopped raining.”

I don’t even register the change in weather. Just another thing that slips by me when I’m in her presence.

I open up the passenger door and step back, allowing space for her to get in front of me. “Yeah, a warning. Like ‘Hey Reed, I’m about to fuck up your chances of forming a complete thought. Just wanted to give you a heads up.’”

She climbs into the truck with my assistance, looks down at me after situating her dress, and frowns. “Hey, Reed?” she says more as a question than anything. Her voice suddenly apprehensive.