Falling for Fallon (Oak Hill 2)

I flicked my eyes up to his, and there wasn’t a single inch of humor on his face. He was serious.

And I was seriously in big fucking trouble.

“So the picture? Of you with Dawson and Ivy?”

He still held the platter and gazed around the room. I did the same, locking onto Derek, who wasn’t paying me any attention.

“It

was from earlier. I had them go with me to get the tacos.”

“The tacos? You brought more than one?”

He smiled cheekily, looking down at me. “I have a ton in my car, just in case I could get you to bail.”

I wanted nothing more than to bail.

“Are you going to take it?”

My brows furrowed. “Huh?”

“The taco.”

I grinned after looking around the room once more. I snatched the taco and napkin off the platter and placed it on my lap, trying to be incognito.

Emmett placed the lid back on the platter and stood up straighter. He didn’t look down at me when he spoke.

“Read the napkin, Fallon.”

Read the napkin?

I slowly lifted the taco up, some cheese falling off in the midst, and scanned the scratchy handwriting on the white, pristine cloth.

Meet me on the third floor when you can.

I brought my head back up and quickly looked to my right and left and then behind me. Emmett was nowhere to be found. I smiled, shaking my head, a few more stray hairs falling out around my face. He was good.

He was too good.

I blew air out of my mouth, feeling pure anticipation.

Emmett was going to have me coming back for more and more, until I simply lost myself in… whatever this was.

I pushed away from the table and stood up, squaring my shoulders. I didn’t see Derek any longer, and it sent a surge of panic down my spine.

He would come looking for me again—and soon. That way we could mingle some more before the dinner and guest speaker. I needed to move fast.

Hell, maybe I would just disappear for the night.

What could he do?

Nothing.

My parents on the other hand…

If they learned I’d ditched, they’d flip. They’d start to worry, stage a meeting with someone that was licensed in mind reading, and demand to know where I was and what I was up to. I was twenty-three years old, and here I was, worried my parents were going to catch me sneaking away.

My life, folks. My life.