Page 3 of Fall to Me
Evie raises a perfect brow as if to saybullshit.
“Oh, no. You can’t lie to us. I know that look.” Aspen points at my face. “Plus?—”
“You know nothing,” I say, cutting her off as I continue dancing.
I don’t want to find him attractive. God, Ireallydon’t. Every time he pierces me with those glacier-blue eyes, my pulse races, my cheeks warm, and tingles spread throughout my body. Itliterally feels like the ground shifts right under my feet. Usually, that’s when I run. Running is something I’ve become very good at.
He’s been after me for a year now; leaving my favorite coffee on my desk every morning and showing up when I think I’ve successfully avoided him. Aspen’s been giving me hell over the past few months after overhearing him refer to me as his “future wife.” God, could you imagine? Me, his wife? Ha! I mean, yeah, he’s hot as fuck. A walking, talking temptation. And though that temptation is strong, I would never attempt a casual hookup with him. I’d probably wake up the next morning with an engagement ring that he secretly slipped onto my finger in my sleep.
Not. Going. To happen.
Though I don’t want to date him, I do like him as a person. He keeps me on my toes . . . quite literally. It’s just that I’m scared to fall into another trap. I’m scared he’s too good to be true. That he appears to be one way, but in reality, he’s the complete opposite. I’d bet you any amount of money that if we were to date, months down the road, he’d become a different person; a person I wouldn’t even recognize anymore.
They all do.
On the outside, he seems to have his shit together and be the voice of reason. It’s the other side of him: the aggressive side of him on the ice that everyone sees but seems to overlook, that scares the shit out of me. We all have our secrets, and if I’ve learned anything in my life, it’s that people only allow you to see what they want you to see. No one truly knows how a person is behind closed doors.
“Come on,” I call over my shoulder to the girls. “We need another drink.”
I’m focused on an escape, a distraction, hell,anythingto take their mind off the topic.Except Aspen isn’t so easily thrown off. That’s not surprising; she knows me better than anyone.
“Maybe you should stop fighting this and give him a chance,” she calls over the music.
I shoot her a pointed look. “Aspen.”
“Just stop running, River,” she says as we approach the bar.
“One more word, and I will disown you.”
I would never, but she’s relentless. Turning my attention to the bartender, I slightly lean across the counter. “Eight shots of Patrón and four mixed drinks—any kind . . . surprise us,” I call out with a wave of my hand.
The bartender nods, tossing a towel over his shoulder as he reaches for bottles from the shelves behind him. The sound of clinking glass echoes out around us over the music. I turn back to the girls and smile, hoping the conversation is dead.
No. Such. Luck.
“Payback is a bitch, isn’t it? Remember Christmas last year?” Aspen raises a brow.
Oh, I remember exactly what she’s talking about. Tucker and I choreographed the entire evening to push her and Cal closer. Watching them dance around their feelings drove me up the damn wall. They had that whole “I hate you, but I really don’t” thing going on, then they had the “best friends thing” going on. Best friends, my ass.
Tilting my head, I feign ignorance while giving a non-committal shrug. Hannah and Evie look at each other, remaining mute with amusement flitting across their faces as Aspen’s eyes roll.
She begins ticking off my onslaught of offenses on each finger. “You strategically hung mistletoe in the kitchen, right above where I was cooking.”
Yep. Did that.
“You sat everyone next to each other at dinner, leaving only one seat open next to Cal?—”
“Hey,” I interject, holding up a hand and cutting her off. “That table had enough seating for twelve, and there were only six of us. If you didn’t want to sit next to him, you didn’t have to.”
She throws her hands out at her side. “And what? Hmm? Move my place setting somewhere else? That would’ve been awkward, and you know it! Now, may I continue?”
I flourish my hand in the air for her to continue so she can carry on with her rant and get it out of her system.
“Thank you,” she continues. “And as if all of that wasn’t enough, you casually started a fire in the fireplace, left a bottle of chilled wine with two wine glasses, and then your scheming ass went up to your room and didn’t emerge until the next morning. You basically orchestrated the entire evening like it was a freaking Hallmark movie. Any of that ringing bells in that pretty little head of yours?”
Yeah, I did all that, too. Well, Tucker and I did, but I’m not selling out my nephew. She was trying to convince herself they were “just friends,” and he was trying to pretend he wasn’t in love with her, so I gave them a little push. When Christmas didn’t work out according to plan, I plotted my next move.
I started looking up bars and nightclubs in Chicago to set things back in motion. I thought a girls’ night out at a tavern right outside the city, where there would be a slew of men lining up to dance with Aspen, was the perfect way to make Cal jealous . . .again. I wanted him to see her with other guys and force him to confront his feelings for her. So, when we were on the jet, heading to the windy city, I spoke loud enough for Carter to hear about our plans for that night.
