Page 27 of Falling for Grace

“Brandon Holder,” I say. And then I sit back and watch the explosion around the table as the name lands on the ears of my friend and new acquaintances.

“You’re fucking lying,” Theresa says, staring at me open-mouthed. The look on her face is hilarious.

“I’m not.” I giggle.

“I want details…immediately.”

I shake my head. “Hells, no! You said only a name. That’s all you’re getting.”

“Goddammit. That’s it. I’m not playing with you anymore, you’re a cheat. You–” She points to Rob. “Let’s go and get down.”

“Excuse me?” he says, raising an eyebrow.

“Get down and boogie.”

He lets out another laugh and takes a swig of his beer before standing up and grabbing her hand.

“Come on, then, let’s check out whether your dancing is as cute as your mouth.”

Theresa is excellent at many things; dancing is not one of them. The pair of them scoot out and head towards the makeshift dance floor at the end of the bar. A live band is now playing and there is quite a group standing in front of them dancing. Well, I say dancing, but it actually involves a number of people jumping up and down like they are insane, and couples gyrating against each other.

Ben and I are left in the booth. He takes a pull on his beer, his throat moving as he swallows. My eyes trace the tanned skin.

“So that’s one of your secrets.” He looks down at me. “I’m guessing this is a number one type of secret.” Now that the others have left I have no way to deflect this conversation. I really do not want to go there with Ben.

It’s sacred.

Ben’s eyes are searching mine waiting for me to answer, but I’m not going to. I need to do something to avoid this topic, so I do something I never do. I make a move. I throw myself at him in an awkward mini rugby tackle.

He’s shocked at first and I find myself holding my lips awkwardly against his. Embarrassment flushes my cheeks as I realise that maybe I misjudged the flirting between us all night. The odd brush of hands, the touch of my legs a few times, the flirtatious banter. He had tucked my hair behind my ear. But now he hasn’t moved and, well, this is all kinds of awkward. Hopefully the ground will open and swallow me up any time now.

I am about ready to pull myself away and apologise profusely when suddenly he reaches behind my head and holds me against him.

Thank God.

Now that he has relaxed and the shock of me pouncing on him has worn off, his lips have softened and they are working with mine.

It has been forever since I last kissed someone, like, properly kissed. His hand moves down from my head, along to my neck and onto my arm, causing a slight shiver to run down my spine. The kiss is…nice.

He pulls back and smiles. “You’re deflecting.” He leans back in and kisses me softly on my lips again. I can smell the alcohol on his breath. “But you won’t hear me complaining.” He looks at the table and sees the two remaining shots. He grabs one and hands me the other.

“A toast,” he says. “To Brandon Holder and the mystery kiss.”

“To the kiss.”And the rest,I say to myself, tipping the liquid back. I blanch as the vodka burns my throat, working its way down and warming my belly. We sit quietly. I look onto the makeshift dance floor. I can feel Ben watching me, his dark brown eyes burning a hole into my head.

“Permission to speak freely.”

I raise an eyebrow, my vision glassy.

“I’d say, Grace Bush from a place called Walton about forty minutes on the train from outside of London...”

I grin that he remembered our small talk earlier. One of the first things people ask me is where I’m from with my accent. You don’t really get many British people in Clear Lake.

“I’d say that story, whatever you’re hiding.” He holds up his hand as my back straightens. “I’m not asking,” he says to placate me. “But that secret is a dangerous one.”

“You’re talking like you’re an experienced secret keeper,” I say. We met less than three hours ago, but he seems to be able to read me remarkably well.

“And there you go deflecting again,” he says, a twinkle in those dark eyes.

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