Watch Me Fall (Ross Siblings, #5)

“It could be worse, Jared, but it could damn sure be better too.”


Wasn’t that the damn truth. His agreement with her statement, though, was almost immediately forgotten given the casual way she dropped his name in the middle. For whatever insane, logic-defying reason, the only thing he could think of was hearing her say it in his ear. Over and over.

Wiping a hand down his face, he shifted in his seat as his fly tightened uncomfortably. What the hell was wrong with him? Picking up damsels in distress and then imagining… Shit. Had he been so long without a woman that he was turning into a creep?

Starla certainly was no damsel, though, and he had the feeling any distress she found herself in was of her own making. He could relate. Still, it wasn’t gonna happen. The last time he drowned his loneliness and miseries in a woman, he ended up married to her and raising twin girls. Not that he had any regrets; Ashley and Mia were his world. And Shelly, their mom, had been sweet and loving, a good wife any way you looked at it.

But no Macy.

And until he could bar thoughts like that from entering his mind, he had no business breaking his self-imposed celibacy. None whatsoever. It wasn’t fair to whomever he was with to constantly compare her to someone else, and he couldn’t stop. Just…couldn’t stop.

“Turn right up here,” Starla said quietly. She’d settled considerably after her outburst, seeming small and crumpled, as if she simply didn’t have anything left.

And a disturbing thought occurred to him. “Hey. This guy you were with tonight. He isn’t going to come back around and hassle you, is he?”

Her face tilted minutely toward him, briefly catching a streetlight as he made the turn she’d indicated. “I don’t think so. He was going to a party and was already well on his way to being drunk. He’s probably all the way by now.”

Jared’s brow furrowed. She wasn’t sure, and he liked that about as much as he liked the idea of a drunk idiot careening down his road. “All the more reason that he might do something stupid.”

“Maybe.” She sighed.

“Is there a friend you can stay with?”

“I have a roommate.”

“Is that enough?”

“I’m sure it is.”

“Don’t be too proud to tell someone if you need help. You shouldn’t have to handle these things by yourself.”

“Far too many people know too much about my business. It’s embarrassing, and it’s my own fault for letting them in. Better to start shutting them out than showing them what new lows I can reach.”

“Yeah, but if this guy might hurt you—”

“Max is more bark than bite.”

“He was enough bite that you made him put you out on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere. What would you really have done if I hadn’t come along?”

Her voice sharpened, defensiveness rising. “I guess I would be walking.”

“Lucky for you I live out that way. And I’m pretty sure I know where he was going to party, and it’s nowhere I’d ever want to hang out.”

“I hang out there all the time.”

He clamped his mouth shut on a retort. If she did, then Macy probably did too. The music and shouting and craziness that wafted up to his house every other weekend from that place had brought him out on the porch more than once, contemplating driving down there to shoot out their speakers and tell them to shut the hell up. It bothered him most when his daughters were home, though, and he couldn’t very well do that with them around.

And now he’d obviously insulted Starla, so he let the conversation drop while she directed him through a few more turns, finally pulling to a stop in front of a simple A-frame house in a cul-de-sac. “I so appreciate you picking me up,” she said at last, after the truck had idled for a few seconds with neither of them speaking or moving. “Really, you have no idea how much. Hell, I probably couldn’t have walked all that way. I’m really not trying to be a bitch, but I’ve got it handled from here. All right?”

He couldn’t help but smile at the determined little jut of her chin, but it chilled on his face at the thought of someone hurting her. “Do me one favor, at least?”

Starla’s eyes met his in the dimness. He didn’t know why, but something seemed to take her aback the moment their gazes touched. Her eyes widened, the lashes so long they cast shadows on her cheeks. “Wh— um. Ahem. What?”

“Not that you would, but don’t go out with that guy again. For any reason.”

“No, no, I wouldn’t. Ever. Promise.” A nervous laugh flitted from her lips, then she collected her destroyed phone and turned for the door. One thing he could say about her: from her physical adornments to her attitude, she was certainly unlike any woman he’d ever been around.

Cherrie Lynn's books