The Harder You Fall (11 page)

“Un-promise him. And don't be late,” West repeated, his gaze locked on her, smoldering with so much heat she actually felt burned. A common occurrence in his presence. “If you don't respect my rules, kitten, I won't respect yours.”

Rules? “I've never given you any rules.”

“I can think of three offhand.” He held up an index finger. “Always wear a shirt.” A second finger lifted. “Stay out of your bedroom.” Another finger. “Keep my hands to myself.”

Oh...crap. If he touched her...just one touch...what remained of her resistance might finally crumble.

* * *

B
Y
THE
TIME
Jessie Kay finished her morning deliveries, she was thirty-seven minutes off West's stupid schedule and stressed to the max. She'd constantly glanced at the clock on her phone, sweating bullets despite the frigid temperature as one minute bled into another. How did West live this way?
Why
did he live this way?

She finally caved and texted Beck for answers. He would be an easier nut to crack than Jase.

I need your help. West moved in w/ me & I just received my 1st schedule. (shakes fist at sky) WHY ME????

Beck:
My boy called this morning, told us about the move-in. We're still in shock. You tell me what's going on w/ you two & I'll tell you about the schedule

Her:
You're gonna break bro code just for deets? You suck as West's friend but you rock as mine (good choice!)  :-)

Beck:
Bro code will remain intact. As soon as we learned where West had gone, we decided to help you out for his benefit (& yours)

Here went nothing.

Her:
What's going on between us: we've admitted we lust for each other, but we've decided to be friends, nothing more. Happy now? Talk!

Beck:
Ignoring lust only causes the fire to burn hotter. Just ask Harlow. But at least you and West are finally on the right path

A flutter in her heart.

Her:
The schedule, please

Beck:
It's something he learned in rehab. Keeps his mind busy so he won't relapse

Fear of a relapse. Ding, ding, ding. Of course!

The people who said “a little fear is good for you” only lied to themselves. They claimed fear kept them from doing stupid things. Wrong! Common sense did that. Hello! Fear of any kind was a prison, keeping you shackled—she should know. So as much as West's schedules helped him, they also chained him. He allowed himself to do this but not that and vice versa, never leaving room for spontaneity.

What would it hurt to show him there was a different way to live? If he liked it, he liked it; if he didn't, he didn't. But at least he'd be better informed.

Excitement blooming, she texted West:

On my way to lunch w/ the girls. You remembered I can't bring you a sandwich today right?  :-)   :-)  :-)

West:
You have an emoticon addiction

That was it? That was all she got? Oops. Spoke too soon.

West:
I remembered

Well. Not the best response, but not the worst, either. Whatever. She had to kick off her plan now or never...

Her:
OH! Before I forget—I need a copy of YOUR schedule. You don't want me to accidentally screw it up, do you???  :-)   :-)  :-)   :-)  :-)   :-) (admit it, smiley faces make you happy)

Casual enough?

An email came in next. A freaking email.

[email protected]

Subject: Read it, love it, live it

See attached. You're welcome.

Smartass. She opened the document and read the intricately detailed plans for his day. Shower, cook a green pepper and mushroom omelet with bacon on the side for Jessie Kay, dress—he'd even written down what he planned to wear—drive to work. He'd logged the length of time he would be in the car, along with a sidebar in case there was a traffic jam. For work, he'd listed everything he needed to get done and every phone call he was to make and the minutes he would allow for each. He'd already scratched out lunch with her and penciled in a protein shake at his desk. He also planned to work out.

Had to keep those muscles in top form.

He'd scratched out, rewritten, scratched out and rewritten a call to Monica.

A text arrived just as Jessie Kay finished reading.

West:
Naked pictures also make me happy

She smiled with evil delight. The only way to show him what life was like without a schedule was to trash today's schedule. And he'd just given her the perfect way to do it...

She looked the document over one more time, making note of the events she could liven up. The conference call with the star beside it. The meeting with Beck about upcoming projects. The call—not going to call—call to Monica. Excitement building, Jessie Kay set reminders on her phone before making her way to Two Farms, the only fine-dining experience in town. Said no one. Ever. Well, except for Mr. Calbert, the owner. He said it all the freaking time.

“Hey, Jessie Kay. Wait up.”

As she meandered along the sidewalk, Billy Johnson raced across the street to keep pace beside her. They were roughly the same age, and he was kinda cute...she thought she remembered making out with him at a party one night.

“I just left Style Me Tender.” He raked a hand through his newly shorn hair. “Daniel Porter and his dad were there.”

“That's not exactly headline news, Billy.” Mr. Porter and Mr. Rodriguez, the owner of the salon, were best friends and always together.

“Yeah, but Mr. Porter asked Daniel if you guys were dating, and he said you were just friends.”

“He didn't lie.”

“Glad to hear it...because I just bought a new truck and would love to take you for a ride.”

“Take you for a ride” had always been code for “have sex at Make Out Hill.”
He really thinks I'm
that
easy
.

I'll wait forever for you, Anna Grace.

“Do me a favor and spread the word,” she said through gritted teeth. “Jessie Kay Dillon has closed the candy store. And now, good day, sir.”

“But—”

“I said good day, sir.”

As he sputtered for a response, she marched the rest of the way to the restaurant. A bell tinkled as she entered. The girls had beaten her there and snagged a booth in back. As she made her way over, she took in the wood paneling, the hand-carved tables and the cement floor painted to resemble marble.

She and Brook Lynn had worked here for years—and yeah, okay, her sister had worked a lot harder than she ever had, and guilt still burned inside her for it. But... Jessie Kay had despised this place with every fiber of her being. Not because she'd disdained the work but because different guys had come in at different times, requesting her as a waitress. They'd heard she gave a little something extra to her customers, aka a good time. Her butt had received multiple pats a day and once or twice her breasts had been squeezed.

Now, at least, she didn't feel as if she were choking on disappointment every time she entered.

She hugged her sister, saying, “Fess up. You recently lost your temper, didn't you?” before plopping in her seat.

“I most certainly did not. And stop trying to distract me.” Brook Lynn planted her elbows on the tabletop, letting her know the seriousness of the subject trumped proper etiquette. “What's this we hear about West moving in with you?”

Oh. That.

In unison, Kenna and Harlow said, “Yeah. Tell.”

“He showed up last night, desperate to escape the inconsiderate, horribly disgusting couples who can't keep their hands off each other. How could I say no?”

Brook Lynn buffed her nails. “Haters gonna hate.”

Harlow leaned forward, expression a little too feral. “Are you guys sharing a room?”

“No,” she said, then sighed. “Not yet.” After seeing him in nothing but a towel and a sardonic smile...

My resistance is basically toast. Hot, buttered toast.

A chorus of “ohhhs” erupted.

“Oh, my gosh.” Brook Lynn pressed her hands together and placed the steeple over her mouth. “You guys are going to get married and have a million babies, I just know it.”

Jessie Kay rolled her eyes. “We were bitter enemies and now we're friends who have admitted to a mutual attraction. That's as far as we've gone.”

A warm, buttered corn-bread muffin hit her in the chest, crumbs landing in her hair.

“Hey!” she said, scanning the table for the culprit.

“What about your ban on sex?” Kenna picked up another muffin, ready to launch it. “Last time we had lunch, you told us you'd decided to wait for a man who would love you the way your dad loved your mom. You told us to hit you with a crowbar if you started crushing on anyone inappropriate.”

“I even brought one.” Harlow lifted a freaking crowbar. “I love West, but unless you get him to break the two-month date-and-dump cycle, I can't let you mess around with him.”

These girls were kneecap-breaking serious about protecting her heart.

She might not have found the romantic love her parents had shared, but she had something just as good, if not better. The love of her friends.

“No need to worry. West asked me to sleep with him, a onetime thing, and I said no.” Her phone beeped, and she held up a finger, requesting a moment as she checked the screen. She smiled. Time to send Mr. West his first schedule-crushing picture.

“Why are you smiling that like?” Kenna demanded. “I don't like it.”

She opened the camera app on her phone. “Why? Smiles represent happiness.”

“Except you look like an evil overlord who finally destroyed the world.”

“Because I'm destroying
West's
carefully constructed world. Trust me. It's for his own good.” She took a cleavage selfie and texted the photo to his phone.

Better than a smiley face???

Harlow gaped at her. “Did you just send him a picture of your chest?”

“My
very ample
chest, yes.” If he responded as she hoped, he would be extremely uncomfortable during his conference call, but he'd also look forward to something that wasn't on his precious schedule—seeing her again.

Aaand sixty-three seconds later, a beep sounded.

YOU'RE NOT WEARING A BRA???

She laughed with pure glee.

Another text came in.

Come to my office. Now. In-person showings are better than pictures

She typed:
Can't. I'm busy. But maybe I'll send another pic later...

Maybe he'd be so eager to see it that he'd pencil in a spontaneous call to her, just to beg that she hurry.

“Uh-oh. She's got it bad,” Kenna said.

“I know! Isn't it great?” Brook Lynn beamed.

“Know what you want to eat, ladies?” Melba Redus, an older waitress Jessie Kay had worked with in the past, arrived with notebook and pen in hand.

“We sure do,” Jessie Kay said, hopefully ending the conversation about West.

The moment Melba marched off, Brook Lynn got them back on track. “We need to be sure you don't sabotage your own happiness. Or rush into something you shouldn't. So, we're going to make some lists.”

No. Please, no.
Not Brook Lynn's infamous lists. Jessie Kay remembered the last one. A fun list consisting of gems like:

Drink blue Gatorade out of a Windex bottle in front of strangers.

Become Cinderella for a day.

Solve a mystery.

Her sister hadn't realized those strangers would call 911, thinking death was imminent. Or that being Cinderella would mean toiling in summer heat all day long rather than attending a glamorous ball. Or that the mystery would involve a missing orgasm.

Wait. Maybe a few lists wouldn't be so bad.

No. Bad Jessie Kay! “Here's a list,” she said. “‘Things I need. Number one. New friends.'” She tapped her chin. “Yeah, that covers it. I don't need to add anything else.”

Kenna wagged a finger at her. “Zip it, Dillon. This is happening.”

“Since you're so resistant to help,” Brook Lynn said, “we'll only make one list. It will detail all the things West has to do for you before you can even consider sleeping with him. You'll thank us later.”

Save me.
“Guys, lists are as bad as schedules.”

As the girls ignored her and bounced ideas off each other—
he can't glance at other women while he's speaking with Jessie Kay, he must introduce her to work associates with pride, and he has to hold her close all night long without making a move on her
—her phone rang. The screen displayed a number she didn't recognize.

Grateful for the distraction, she answered. “Hello.”

“I'm calling for Jessica Dillon.”

A woman's voice, unfamiliar. “This is she.” Right? That sounded weird. “This is her.” And that sounded even worse. Whatever. “This is me. Jessie Kay.”

Her dreams of being an English teacher had long since crashed and burned. With good reason!

“Hello, Miss Dillon. I'm Hilary Dumas, executive assistant to Monica Gentry.”

Monica Gentry. The woman West had brought to Harlow's wedding. Jessie Kay's fingers tightened around the cell, nearly cracking the plastic case.

“Who is it?” Brook Lynn whispered.

Monica
, she mouthed. She and Monica—Monica and her?—had spoken for a few minutes before the ceremony, and they hadn't parted on the friendliest of terms.

He asked
me
out. He's here with
me
. I don't appreciate the way you're looking at him
.

Maybe you should talk to
him
about the way he's looking at
me, Jessie Kay had replied
.

Maybe I will, but right now I'm talking to you. Back off, or I'll make you regret it.