Page 6 of Can't Help Falling

Even now, standing here in the concessions area of a minor league baseball game, Fin could feel the rejection letter in her pocket. It had come to her in email form, but she’d purposefully printed it out and chunkily folded it up to carry it with her today.

For the fifth time, her application had been rejected to be a foster parent in the state of New York.

She carried the letter with her now as a sort of reverse talisman. A reminder of all the ways the world could get in the way of this thing she so desperately wanted. Her intuition had told her to print the letter out and bring it with her to this game, and now she understood why.

Because Tyler Leshuski, Nordic blond perfection in his pressed jeans and polo shirt, had finally mustered up the courage to ask her on a date.

She blinked at him. Was Tyler funny? Yes. Did it occasionally make her blood heat when she caught him surreptitiously watching her from across the room? Sure. Was he so handsome that even now she could count at least three different women letting their eyes take a little spring vacation from their husbands? Yup.

To tell you the truth, I don’t like kids very much.

It was the first time she’d ever heard him say it out loud, but not the first time she’d gotten that vibe from him. She knew for a fact that the man had dated his way around Brooklyn and had no intention of stopping.

She shifted on her feet and one sharp, folded corner of the rejection letter in her pocket jabbed into her thigh, fortifying her. There was no room for a man in her life. And there was certainly no room for a committed bachelor looking to get wet and wild.

Fin looked into those nautical blue eyes of his, dreamy and proper all at once.

“Trust me when I say that the two of us,” she said, “are not a match.”

She held his eyes for a second more, nodded her head resolutely and then turned on her heel toward the condiments stand.

There. That oughta do it.

Tyler was actually the second man she’d had to reject today. The first was a smarmy, pushy businessman on the Q train who’d apparently thought that just because she’d accidentally jostled into him, she might want to hand over her digits. She’d set him straight in just as resolute a way as she had Tyler. Although with the man on the train, she’d had to ignore the “bitch” he’d tossed her way, seemingly under his breath. She’d found that one had to be firm when dealing with men. Much like children.

“Hold the phone,” Tyler said after a moment, striding after her, his long legs easily catching up to her, beer sloshing over one wrist in his hurry. “That’s your entire answer?”

She looked back over her shoulder as she pumped Frank’s RedHot over every inch of her chili cheese fries.

“You want more of an answer than that?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, a kernel of dread bursting into existence in her gut. Please don’t make this harder than it has to be, she internally begged him.

“You don’t like me?” he asked, searching for clarification.

“I like you just fine. You’re funny and sweet with Matty.” She shrugged.

“You’re not attracted to me?”

She swept her eyes over him, almost lazily. “You’re attractive.”

“But we’re not a match. Not even for a date.”

She opened her mouth to answer him but he cut her off.

“What’s the issue here?” he asked. “I didn’t propose. I’m not a bad guy. It would be fun.”

Of course he hadn’t proposed. That was the whole point. Not that she wanted him to propose. But the venomous disdain that dripped from his voice at the very idea of commitment...

“I’m not looking for fun, Tyler—”

“Well, what are you looking for, Fin? Because I can’t figure you out.”

Temper crackled inside her like static electricity. She set down her food and turned to him, dusting salt off her hands.

“First off, I was about to tell you what I’m looking for when you cut me off twice. And trust me, if you were any other man on the street, I would have already walked away from this conversation. So take it as a compliment that I’m even explaining this to you. Tyler, I barely date people at all. And I certainly don’t date men with your priorities. I’m not looking to eat fancy food at an overpriced restaurant and make small talk while I watch you attempt to figure out how best to get my clothes off. I only like seeing movies by myself, and I’m not interested in ice-skating or binge-drinking or whatever the hell else it is that people do on dates.” She sucked in a breath for more air, and watched as the color leached out of his face. “And, most important, you are never going to have kids ‘if you can help it.’” She threw two quotes around those words, letting him know that she’d definitely overheard his conversation with Matty just now. “And I am looking to start a family. ASAP.”

“I didn’t—” he started, but she held up a hand to stop him.

She’d lost her patience. Maybe if she hadn’t dealt with the man on the train that morning, or maybe if she didn’t feel the eyes of other men on her right that very second, taking her confrontation with Tyler as an opportunity to let their eyes linger on her breasts and ass and face, maybe if the world was a little more decent to women, she’d have let him say his piece. But here they were, on Planet Brooklyn, where her temper still hadn’t burned itself out.

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