When I Fall (Alabama Summer #3)

Beth smacks my arm. “Reed, relax. Why are you so edgy all of sudden?”

“I’m not edgy.”

I’m fucking edgy.

I turn the truck off and step out onto the grass, inhaling the night air as I drop my head back. The sky is clear enough to see all the stars. Not a cloud in sight. It would actually be a nice night to be here with Beth under different circumstances.

A car door shuts, and I drop my head as she rounds the front of the truck.

Fuck. Again? Can’t this woman wait until I get over there to help her get down?

“I’m going to leave my purse in the truck. You don’t think I’ll need it, do you?”

“You could wait for me, you know,” I tell her, stepping forward and ignoring her question. My keys get tucked into the back pocket of my khakis as I reach her side. “If you fell out of my truck, I’d be pissed.”

She looks up at me through dark, thick lashes, her eyes almost black in the night. “It’s not too high for me to jump down. I just can’t get up in it by myself . . . easily. In fact, if I ever fall out of your truck, I probably am the one who’s pissed.” Her grin stretches across her mouth. “As in drunk.”

I tip my chin down. She tilts hers up, shamelessly giving me that damn smile.

“Easy, sweetheart,” I warn, stepping closer.

She doesn’t budge. Doesn’t move back, or ease up on that killer fucking smile that warms the inside of my chest, making me feel like I’m the reason for her happiness.

“One of these times I’m gonna kiss that smile right off your face.”

Her eyes double in size, the black irises swelling at my threat. Her lips pull down, then open slightly. The tease of her tongue wetting both like she’s getting ready for me.

I shake my head. Not yet. Not now.

She pulls her shoulders back and squints. Fine. Your loss.

I snort. Yeah. Don’t I fucking know it.

We share a quiet laugh. Beth turns her head in the direction of the music, looking out across the packed lot. A nearby lamppost illuminates the side of her face and sends streaks of light through her hair.

She looks like she’s glowing. Shit, I feel like she should be. No woman has ever stood out to me like this before. Yeah, a lot have caught my eye when I’m out, earned them a spot in my bed, but there’s nothing special about them. Nothing that makes them any different from the others. Even talking to them feels like we’re both working off a script. But with Beth, I’ve never felt that way. I’ve never felt like I could easily swap her out for another and not be able to tell a difference.

I couldn’t leave you alone.

I said that to her at McGill’s. It was probably more of a line at the time, but now I’m not so sure. Maybe I wasn’t spouting bullshit. Maybe I would’ve gone mad if I hadn’t walked over to her.

Walked? Right. I practically sprinted.

I lift my gaze from the exposed skin of her neck the second she looks back at me.

“Ready?” she asks, holding out her hand for me to take.

I guess this is part of it. Couples hold hands.

Beth loses her smile when I hesitate, but it materializes again the second my palm slides against hers. I give her a stiff nod and begin leading her through the parking lot, our fingers slowly interlocking, sealing us together. Nothing about this feels awkward. Not even how small her hand feels in mine, like I could crush it if I’m not careful. She stays quiet, tucked against my side, taking everything in.

Swan Harbor is a popular spot for waterfront weddings in Ruxton. It sits on over five hundred acres of farm land that’s been landscaped, with a wildflower garden that’s showcased every summer in the local paper. It’s open to the public all year round, and people come up here to sit under the gazebo that overlooks the lake, or walk along the garden to take pictures. The restored farmhouse comes into view first as we make our way up the lawn. Caterers filter in and out as they carry trays of tall champagne flutes toward the large white tent in the middle of the field. We file in behind other guests and step under the cover provided.

Beth reacts to the sight by squeezing my hand.

“Wow,” she whispers, her head lifted as she looks along the ceiling of the tent.

I follow her entranced gaze.

Strings of lights run along the edge of the white cover, then cut across the top and connect with a large chandelier that is suspended above the dance floor.

“Thank God I went shopping for this.” She looks around the room at the other guests.

Everyone is wearing dresses and suits, but none of the women here look close to as good as Beth looks.

Tiny black dress without straps, exposing more of her skin to me than I’ve seen up until this point. Those fucking boots, looking like she’s had them for years, all tattered and scuffed up, but still somehow sexy as hell. She looks like she’s ready to enter a damn pageant, then kick the asses of the other women in it after she takes the crown. Beauty and badass rolled into one hot little package. Fuck the chicks here in heels. Fuck Molly, wherever she is, no doubt wearing something worth more than my truck. Nobody is holding my attention like Beth is.

“You wanna get a drink?” I ask her, spotting the bar at the far end of the tent. My eyes land on Mr. McCafferty, Molly’s dad, standing by a table talking to a few other guests. I’ve always liked him.

“Okay.” Beth starts walking toward the bar. I let go of her hand and touch the small of her back, guiding her to go on without me.

“I’m going to go talk to someone real quick. I’ll meet you over there.”

She looks at me like she might protest leaving my side, but it’s brief. After a simple nod, she moves fluidly between guests in the direction of the bar.

I turn and make my way across the dance floor to the other side of the tent. Mr. McCafferty meets my eyes briefly as I get closer, then recollection lifts his chin. He says something to the man seated at the table, sets his tumbler down, and steps forward with a hand extended.

“Reed, it’s good to see you. How’s the construction business going?” He shakes my hand, keeping his gray eyebrows pinched together. Silently asking what the hell I’m doing here.

I give him a look, I have no fucking idea, and he breathes a laugh before running a hand over his short beard.

I stick my hands in my front pockets. “It’s good. Busy right now. We just started a job over at St. Joseph’s putting in that new wing.”

“Oh yeah, I read about that in the paper. Cancer center, right?”

I nod as my eyes find Beth across the room. Her back is to me while she stands alone at the bar. Shit. I need to make this quick. I don’t want her feeling like I’ve abandoned her.

“How’s your grandfather doing? Is he still working?”

I look back at Mr. McCafferty. “Yeah, he’s still working. We can’t keep him away from the shop.”

“How old is he now? I’m surprised he’s not retired.”

“He turned eighty-six two months ago. My grandmother keeps begging him to retire, but I don’t think that’ll ever happen. He doesn’t know how to sit still.”

He laughs through closed lips, stepping aside to allow a caterer to pass. “You tell him I said hi when you see him.” He offers his hand again, concern settling on his face. “I don’t need to worry about you breaking up an engagement, do I?”