Fear of Falling(15)

The subtle movement of his mouth working over the barbell threaded through his tongue was enough to distract my thoughts and focus on the task at hand. Work. I was here to work.

“So…where do you want me?” I sputtered without thinking. “I mean…do you want me behind the bar or, um, uh… Should we get started?”

Blaine chuckled, throwing his head back. When his eyes returned to mine, they were playful and full of mischief. “Sure, Kami. I want you back here with me.”

I couldn’t help but inwardly scoff at his choice of words. Then again, mine were just as cringe-worthy. I needed to put my game face on. Playtime was over. This…whatever it was…was over. It had to be. I had let too much of myself peek out from beneath the mask I wore for the general public. A mask that had only been penetrated by the two people I shared a home and any semblance of a life with. Blaine wasn’t one of those people. He would never be one of those people. And if he knew the real me, not the person who pretended to be sane enough just to get by, he wouldn’t want to be.

I squared my shoulders and stood next to him, careful to keep a bit of distance between our bodies. That seemed like the right thing to do. The safe thing to do.

Assessing the space between us and my unreadable, stoic expression, Blaine frowned. “What? Something wrong?”

Nothing was wrong with him. Not a single damn thing. It was me. It was always me.

I shook my head, mentally fixing my mask back into place. “No, Blaine. But I came here to work, remember? And you’re here to train me. So maybe we should focus on that.”

I could see his tongue rolling the metal inside his mouth, successfully thawing my cold glare and warming the space between my thighs. Shit. I was still here. The real me was still in this moment. With him.

ShitShitShit.

It was going to be a long day.





You ever get that feeling in your gut that something is about to happen? Something…big? Life-changing even? Something that would not only rock your world right off its axis but flip it upside down and shake the shit out of it? Yeah, I totally got that about three weeks ago.

I should’ve known the first time she came tearing into the parking lot. The first sign? She had been crying. Not drama queen, full on sobbing, but there were definitely tears. I had been just about to duck back in after a much needed break, when the screech of her tires caught my attention.

I froze.

Hell, there was no way my legs could take another step. Even with mascara smeared under her watery eyes, I could tell she was beautiful, and I think that fact made it even harder for me to turn away. I wanted to ask her what was wrong and wipe away every tear. I know it was absurd of me to want that. Shit, it was downright creepy. But she looked so…sad. And alone. And maybe even afraid. Like whatever it was that she had just run away from was bound to show up any second and drag her back to the hell she had just escaped.

After a brief chat on her cell, I watched the internal battle play across her features as she tried to get her emotions in check. That should’ve been my chance to escape. I could turn away from her and let her deal with her own misery. I had enough of my own and I’d be damned if I’d take on someone else.

But I didn’t turn away. I didn’t abandon the hellish North Carolina summer for the air-conditioned sanctuary of the bar. Nope. I took a step forward. Toward her.

She began fixing her makeup, and I could have sworn she was talking to herself. That should have been a huge red flag that this chick was bat-shit crazy. I had dealt with more crazy broads to last a lifetime, and I wasn’t looking to pick up another. Not that I felt like I needed her in my life. No… definitely not.

But I continued to walk towards her. I had no clue what I would say or do, but I knew that I had to say or do something. Anything to erase the pain that she so clearly shouldered. But before I could—before I could do something stupid in an attempt to make it all better—her car door swung open, and I ducked back under the shade of the building before she could misconstrue my intent.

The second sign was her eyes. They seemed to pierce right through me, making it impossible to tear my own gaze away. Eyes that had witnessed grief and pain. Eyes that glazed over and tried to push all the hurt away. I should have let her off the hook then. Should have let CJ irritate the shit out of her until she was fed up enough to leave and never look back. That was what I should have done. But I’d never been good with the obvious solution.

None of those signs meant a damn thing the moment those perfect lips touched my skin. I could have been choking on the smoke signals, and I still wouldn’t have stopped her. She was so…soft. There was a fragility about her that made me want to cherish and protect her. It was ridiculous and stupid and downright embarrassing. But none of that mattered. Her touch had branded me in the most permanent way, over a shot of tequila and a wedge of lime.