Page 12 of When We Are Falling

She grabs two cold ones and heads back in my direction, leaning against the end of the bar so we’re facing one another. It always surprises me just how unbelievably gorgeous she really is, even after knowing her all these years.

“So, Mr. Boss Man, what’s the inside scoop on the plan for tomorrow?” She passes me a beer, our fingers brushing, heat surging through me.

I take a sip, nodding my thanks. Normally I’d be making a move in this situation, laying down some of my best lines, butBlake would laugh in my face. “First, we’ll get everyone geared up and head to the worst-hit areas. We can start where the damage is the heaviest and work our way out.”

Blake sips her beer. “Makes sense. And what about managing the volunteers?”

“I’ll do that,” I say quickly. “But I need someone to keep everyone motivated. Think you can handle that?”

She gives me this adorable look, lips pressed together and one eyebrow raised. “I think I can manage. Just don’t get in my way, Mr. Boss Man.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. But let me know if you need any help, okay? With anything.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to let you know if I need someone to lift heavy things. You know, since you spend so much time at the gym perfecting those muscles to impress the girls that seem to follow you everywhere.”

I laugh, raising my beer in a mock toast. “To heavy lifting and keeping things in order.”

“To getting this town back on its feet,” she counters, clinking her glass against mine.

As we drink, the air between us feels charged with something. There’s a connection, a spark that I’m probably imagining, but wish I wasn’t.

Just as I think of something witty to say, the glass runner behind the bar calls out, looking embarrassed and flustered. “Blake, there’s an issue with the beer tap. I can’t get it to stop flowing.”

Blake gives me an apologetic look. “Duty calls.”

She sets her beer down and hurries off to handle the situation. I watch as she tinkers with it for a few minutes before finally shutting off the flow of beer. Her glass runner stands by, looking relieved.

Someone calls her name, and she gets caught up serving drinks, but manages to throw a sweet smile in my direction.

I head back to find Liam, who’s already deep in conversation with two girls—they turn to look at me as I get closer to the table, and it’s the two pretty tourists we jumped with the other day. Liam intercepts me, muttering under his breath, “They’re no longer clients, right?”

He’s got me on a technicality, and I shrug. The kid needs a little fun. The blond woman turns her attention fully to me, and flips her hair around so dramatically I’m afraid she might’ve gotten whiplash.

“Hey again,” she says, actually batting her eyelashes. “Are you one of the Valiant Hearts boys, too? You and Liam stay busy!”

“Yep, that’s right.”

She leans in closer, clearly expecting more, and I take a subtle step back, creating a bit of distance. She pouts slightly, no doubt hoping for more attention.

“Come on, let’s at least go dance.” She raises her hands above her head, turning her hips in time with the music.

“Don’t worry if he says no,” Liam chimes in. “Ethan doesn’t dance. One of the few things he’s exceptionally bad at.”

I shoot him a dirty look, even though it’s true.

“How about we go on the terrace to talk?” The blond tourist rakes her gaze down my chest.

Once upon a time, I’d be willing to oblige, especially given they’re no longer clients, but not now. It’s rare that Blake and I get to spend much time together, other than the briefaccidentalmeetings in front of my office some mornings, and she’s currently occupying every thought in my head. The last thing I’m interested in is picking up strangers.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I’ve got a ton of work to do.” I shift my focus to Liam. “We’ve got a busy day tomorrow with the cleanup. Lots to organize.”

“Do you need me?” He glances sideways at the brunette tourist, who’s looking at him like he hung the moon.

“Nah. I can take care of it.”

Excusing myself, I keep busy with some tasks for tomorrow, including touching base with the others in my group and making sure they know where we’re meeting tomorrow, before double-checking our supply lists. Gradually, the crowd begins to thin out as people start to go home, the buzz of the evening winding down.

Liam saunters over. “I’m about to head off. You sure you won’t join us?” He nods toward the girls who are sitting at a table, our friend Mike—his lumberjack beard tamed neatly for once, now chatting with the blond tourist.

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