Falling In Read online

  “How does an avocado, spinach, tomato, and goat cheese omelet sound?” He glances over with an eyebrow raised. Challenge in his eyes.

  “Mmm, that sounds heavenly. I’ve had a love affair with avocado since I was pregnant with the twins. I swear, I put it on everything. That and cream cheese. Yum!” I laugh, remembering my preggo cravings.

  Jake laughs, too. “I would pay big money to see you, you tiny little thing, huge with twins in that belly. How did you even walk without tipping over?” he asks, still laughing at himself.

  “Hey, I managed to walk just fine, thank you very much. And I am not tiny, trust me. What you see is an illusion.”

  “Doubtful.” He scoffs. “For having twins, your body is—” he trails off and shakes his head.

  “What? My body is what? What were you going to say?”

  He looks down for a moment, and when his face returns to mine, he blushes. He actually blushes. With my eyes and a tilt of my head, I urge him to answer. He sighs.

  “Banging. I was going to say, your body is banging. Sorry.” He answers sheepishly and slightly cringes. I just laugh.

  “Don’t ever apologize for complimenting a woman. Banging. I like that. Thanks!”

  He clears his throat, mumbles a “welcome,” then carries on preparing our breakfast. As he starts to cut the vegetables, he attempts to change the subject.

  “So, Evangeline—I meant to ask you last night what exactly you do while the kids are at school. I’m new to this stay-at-home uncle deal. I’m not sure what the hell I’m gonna do.” I love the way he says Evangeline. I swear he tries to say it way more than necessary. That makes me smile.

  “Well, um, other than the mundane at-home mom duties like cooking and cleaning, folding clothes, blah blah blah—I do yoga five times a week, and I write.” He stops chopping. Surprise flashes on his face.

  “Write what?”

  “Books. I’m actually a New York Times and Amazon best seller! I’m working on the third and final installment of my series.” I say it proudly because I am proud. I’ve worked my ass off to write these books that I love.

  He is in shock. Well, geez is that surprising that I can write? Jerkface.

  As if he could read my mind.

  “I’m sorry, I probably look totally taken aback right now. It’s not that I don’t believe you’re an author. I guess I just wasn’t expecting it. So, you’re a fucking author! Anything I would’ve read?”

  I burst out laughing at that.

  “What’s so funny? You don’t think I read books?” he asks in disbelief, completely offended.

  “No, no it’s not that. I am sure you’re more than capable of sounding out words.” I can’t help but tease him. The look on his face is priceless. I put him out of his misery though and explain myself. “I write Adult Contemporary.” From the look on his face, he clearly has no idea what the eff I’m talking about. “You know—Romance, Mommy Porn, whatever you wanna call it!” I shrug like it’s no big deal.

  If he didn’t look surprised a minute ago, he sure as hell does now. I think I might have just blown his mind. He’s staring at me, speechless, and shaking his head out again. I’ve noticed he does that a lot. And then he straight up bursts out laughing at me. Again. Repeating, “Oh, shit,” over and over.

  Yep, jerkface.

  “Damn, Evangeline. Again with the unexpected.” He looks impressed. More than, even. His eyes are staring into mine with such intensity, I have no choice but to look away. I get a warm feeling in the pit of my stomach, and my cheeks heat to a dark shade of pink. I try to brush it off like it’s no big deal. But inside, I’m screaming through so many mixed emotions, I can’t look him in the eye. As if sensing my discomfort, his eyes soften and he apologizes.

  “I’m sorry, again—you just caught me off guard twice, in less than a minute.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” I offer him a small smile, attempting to reassure him that all is well, even though my body is still humming from the moment before. I take a deep breath. He looks at me for moment longer, then resumes making breakfast. I watch him move around the kitchen with such ease despite the space being completely new to him. He’s fascinating to watch, so confident and full of…love. I can’t keep my eyes off him. He’s so sexy.

  Shit.

  After about ten minutes of clanging dishes and ogling the chef, Jake presents me with the most beautiful looking omelet I have ever seen. And the smell is mouthwatering. He pours two glasses of orange juice for us and stands across from me. I give my thanks and dig in. Hot damn, it tastes even better than it looks and smells. I can’t help but close my eyes and moan.

  Big mistake.

  When I open my eyes, I find Jake’s on me instantly. That look is back. My panties are instantly damp, and I swear he can hear my heartbeat pounding out of my chest. How can just one effing look do that to me? I shiver in response. He shakes his head once again and returns his attention to his plate. I do the same, finishing in record time. I think I need to get out of here before I do something stupid. I need fresh air. Or a nap. Or an effing cold shower.

  “That was amazing, Jake! You’re ridiculously talented. Hands down, the best damn omelet I have ever tasted. I think I could eat that every day and never tire of it!” He blushes at my open praise. Yes, I actually made him blush again.

  Clearing his throat, he replies, “You’re welcome. Anytime.”

  I’m pretty sure he means that. I get up and take my empty plate and glass to the sink, accidently brushing my arm with his. A tingle runs through my body at the contact. We both freeze. Did he feel that, too? From the look in his eyes, I’m almost positive he did.

  Yeah, I need to leave. Now. “Well, top chef, thank you for the epic breakfast. It truly was perfection. I should probably head back home, though. Time to work off said perfection.” I wink.

  “Yeah, no problem. Thanks for everything yesterday. I really appreciate it.”

  Feeling like this is some sort of awkward ending to a date, I start to walk to the door, but then stop suddenly, looking at all of the damn boxes. I turn back around to face Jake.

  “Hey, do you want any help with all of this? I could come over later after yoga, bring over some lunch and maybe a bottle of wine? I know how much moving effing sucks, and to unpack alone?” I shudder.

  “Really, you’d do that?” He pauses for a second, looking astonished that I would even offer such a thing. Then his mouth curves into a knowing smile. “I don’t know why I’m surprised, of course you would offer! You’re something else, Evangeline. That’d be great. I honestly don’t even know where to begin with this shit.”

  I finally walk to the door, Jake hot on my heels. He opens it for me, and he’s so close I can feel the warmth radiating off his body. I take a deep inhale, smelling coffee and a scent that is just him. Just Jake. It’s intoxicating. I halt any forbidden thoughts before they try to form in my mind. We exchange goodbyes and see you laters before I head back home.

  As I shut my front door, I take another giant deep breath. In through the nose. Out the mouth.

  Shit. I really hope I won’t regret this later. I know I should probably stay away. But I just don’t want to.

  So for now, I won’t.

  ***

  I do an hour of yoga hoping to clear my head of thoughts that shouldn’t be there. It doesn’t help. So, I trudge upstairs and draw a bath. As I lay there in my clawfoot tub, lavender scented bubbles rising, I close my eyes and let my mind wander. Right away, Jake’s face appears behind my eyelids. God, he’s beautiful. With what looks like a week’s worth of scruff adorning his face and dimples that are beyond lickable. And those haunting green eyes so full of pain. Although, in just a day, they seem to hold a little less. Is that because of me?

  Don’t be stupid.

  I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know what I’m feeling. It’s been a fucking day, but just thinking of Jake makes my body tingle, and a sudden need develops in my core. Lust.

  Is that what
I’m feeling? I cringe and think of Cole. Jesus, I feel guilty, and I haven’t even done anything wrong. But I still can’t shake this feeling that I’m betraying Cole in some way. Fuck. I take a few deep breaths. No, Evie, you aren’t doing anything wrong. You’re just being friendly with a teeny side of lust. But the lust is from afar, and inside my own head. I’m allowed to look, right? Just not touch. And I wouldn’t touch. Couldn’t. I couldn’t do that to Cole. He’s my everything. He always has been, and he always will be. I take another deep breath in. Okay, now I’m good. Feeling resigned, I grab a towel, hop out of the tub, and get ready to face the day…and my hot neighbor.

  A few hours later, I’m at Jake’s door with a basket full of turkey, tomato, and cream cheese wraps, grapes picked and washed, and a bottle of Riesling. I decided to dress for comfort—holey boyfriend jeans, sandals, and a white, flowy top. I’m not trying to impress anyone. I take a much-needed deep breath, then knock twice.

  Jake answers a few seconds later with a huge smile. He must’ve just got out of the shower because his hair still wet, water dripping onto his vintage Pixies shirt. Pairing that with cargo shorts and bare feet, he’s looking damn sexy. Shit. Shit. Shit. We both say hi as he steps back, allowing me to enter. I notice that he hasn’t done anything since I left. I tell him as much.

  Looking almost embarrassed, he winces. “Yeah, about that—don’t be mad. I couldn’t get the whole mom porn book-thing out of my head, so I had to see for myself—”

  I gasp. “You didn’t! You bought my book?” I am so completely and utterly shocked.

  He bought my book.

  “I did. I’ve been reading it all morning, actually. I almost didn’t even shower. Couldn’t seem to put it down. I finished just before you got here. It’s really good, Evangeline. You somehow managed to not only gear it towards women, but also to men. It’s fucking hot, too, not gonna lie. And it’s different. I can’t wait to start the second one, which I also bought, by the way!” he says with a wink.

  I blush from the praise, still reeling from the fact that this man actually read my book and freaking likes it. I set the basket down and plop onto the couch, shaking my head as I look up to him. He seems worried that I’m pissed or something. A huge smile spreads across my face. “I can’t believe you bought my book. And you like it! You’re all right, Jake. You’re all right.”

  At that, he proceeds to talk to me about the book, asking question after question while we eat and gorge ourselves on wine. He’s insightful and intelligent, and we hold the conversation easily without any lulls. He tries shamelessly to get me to reveal which brother my main character will choose in the end, but my lips are sealed. A good writer has to keep up the suspense, after all.

  Finally, realizing that he isn’t getting any spoilers out of me, he suggests we start on the boxes. We work quietly, but somehow it isn’t awkward. The silence is comfortable. But every time our arms or hands accidentally brush, or when I get a whiff of his scent that reminds me of spring, my body ignites, sending tiny prickles of electricity everywhere. And I mean ev-er-y-where. I’m very aware of his presence. I can feel the heat radiating off of him, and my hands become clammy from his nearness. It’s only been a little over an hour, but I’m thinking I might need to step away before I do something I regret. I curse my stupidity for bringing wine. Big effing mistake.

  I peek over at him as I place some books on his shelf and catch him watching me. I smile nervously and wipe the bead of sweat from my brow. Why is it so hot in here? I pull a hair tie from my wrist and gather my long brown curls in a haphazard knot on top of my head. Jake walks over, grabbing more books from the box I’m unloading. But before he turns back to the shelf, he stops right in front of me. Timidly, he reaches up and tucks a loose curl behind my ear. I close my eyes and inhale, butterflies fluttering away in my belly. When I open them, I meet his gaze head-on and immediately step back. He feels it, too. Whatever it is. I see it in his eyes. I need to leave. Now.

  Or like ten minutes ago.

  “Um, I should go.” Grabbing my stuff quickly, I head for the door and swing it open.

  But just before I head out, I hear, “Evangeline!” On a deep breath, I turn around.

  “Thank you, for today.” He sighs, looking like he wants so say more, but doesn’t.

  I nod curtly and walk away. I can feel his eyes on me as I go, stirring feelings in me that I don’t understand. Feelings that are forbidden. The scary thing is that I like it.

  And that is why, from now on, I vow to keep my distance from my neighbor.

  Chapter Four

  Jake

  What the fuck am I doing?

  I didn’t expect this. I didn’t expect her. I was fine. Okay, maybe not fine, but I was dealing. Coasting. Drifting. Fuck—I don’t know what I was. But this? I don’t need this. Feeling like this.

  It’s been five days since she came over, and I fucked it up. I crossed a line. I know I did. But I just couldn’t help myself. She was here, and she’s so unbelievably beautiful. I had to touch that hair—that crazy, unruly, soft as fuck, curly hair.

  Five days of courteous nods and tight smiles followed that single touch. Why her? I swear, I must’ve been a fucking Nazi in a previous life, because this one is a joke. A sick and twisted joke. The only good thing I’ve got going is Ben. Whom—no thanks to me, but to Evangeline and her kids—is actually smiling and laughing again. He’s a kid again. They did in a week what I couldn’t do in eight months—get him to heal.

  I look over at their house as I sit alone on my porch. Drinking my fifth beer, I can’t help but picture her on that first day we met. Evangeline. She’s overenthusiastic, clever, and drop dead gorgeous. This tiny little thing. She reminds me of a fairy or pixie. Cake in hand that was fucking delicious, she strutted over here in that slinky dress that hugged every single damn curve. I watched her coming from the window and knew right then and there that she was trouble. And then she opened that sexy mouth, and I was gone. No one takes me by surprise, but she—she is bewildering. I knew with that ‘I’m not gonna say sorry because sorrys don’t change anything’ bit, she was different. She saw my pain, because she has pain, too. A kindred spirit. I don’t think it’s because of Cole because unfortunately, I actually like the lucky bastard. He seems to truly love her, and she loves him back. He’s just a nice guy. If I wasn’t lusting after his almost wife, I’d actually be friends with him—which just pisses me off. God, I sound like a douche right now. A sad, whiny, pathetic douche.

  I’m about to grab another beer to further my wallowing state when I faintly hear what sounds like yelling.

  Shit, is that them? I should go inside. I really should.

  But I don’t.

  “Cole, you have to understand where I’m coming from. Why don’t you get it? You know, Cole. I just can’t. I fucking can’t!” I hear Evangeline scream as Cole opens their screen door. She follows closely behind him. I can hear the desperation in her voice. The anguish. What the hell are they fighting about?

  Yes, I’m a nosy bastard.

  “Where are you going? You’re just going to leave?”

  Cole sighs. Keeping his eyes forward, he calls back, “I need to clear my head. I need space. I can’t fucking deal with this right now.” Then he disappears into the darkness.

  I watch as Evangeline plops down on her porch steps. Letting a bitter “God damn it” rip from her mouth, she then rests her head between her shapely legs. I take a minute to debate on whether I should interfere or not.

  I think I really only needed a second.

  Within a minute, I’m already beside her.

  ***

  Evangeline

  “Hey, are you okay?” Jake asks softly, but still makes me jump out of my skin. Jesus.

  “Shit, Jake. You scared the hell out of me!” I yell. Then wince and return to my emotional haze. Staring out into nothing, I breathe out and close my eyes, willing myself to forget for a moment that stupid effing fight with Cole. It’s the only thing we ever
fight about. Marriage. I just don’t understand. Of all people, he should fucking get it.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just out here and I kind of heard you and Cole yelling. The end of it, at least. Are you okay?” After I don’t answer again, he nudges me and whispers my name in a question, “Evangeline?”

  His voice sounds so tender and uneasy, I finally turn my head toward him. We’re practically nose-to-nose. I can feel his breath on my lips. He’s been drinking beer. I lift my gaze from his mouth to his eyes. I see such deep concern staring back at me, it’s etched in his face and releases off his body in waves. I take a deep breath. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. I’ve completely ignored this man for five whole days and here he is, sitting next to me, worried for me. I slowly feel my walls crashing down. I finally answer him.

  “No, I’m not okay. At all.” God, my voice doesn’t even sound like mine. It’s full of such despair and defeat. I’m so confused. I don’t know what to do, how to change how I feel. For once, since the first time I met him, this has nothing to do with Jake. But everything to do with Cole.

  Cole.

  He’s the love of my life. My best friend and protector. I gave him two beautiful children, I gave him my heart, but I don’t think I can give him this. Jake and I have been sitting here for about five minutes, neither one of us breaking the silence. Just sitting and breathing, looking out into the dark street of nothingness.

  It’s comforting. Despite the turmoil swirling in my mind from the events earlier, I feel oddly at ease. Jake brings that out of me. It’s like he somehow shares my pain. I felt it the first time we spoke. Kindred spirits. So I blame that momentary sense of peace for what I am about to tell him. “Cole and I aren’t married. But he wants to be.”

  “And you don’t?” he asks, looking at me quizzically.

  Another deep breath in. “No, I don’t.” Sensing his confusion, I explain. “Don’t get me wrong, I love Cole. He’s the only man I’ve ever loved. We’ve been together for what seems like my entire life. He knows me like he knows himself. He’s always been there for me—” I close my eyes for a minute, wondering if I should I go on. Cole is one of a select few who know this story. My story.