The Harder You Fall. Gena Showalter
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decisions, better life.
“But,” she added, “I could be convinced to become your friend.”
“I’ve never had a female friend. Especially one as hot as you.”
“Well, I’ve never had a guy friend as hot as you. We can break each other in nice and easy.”
A grin stretched from ear to ear. “All right. For you, Jessie Kay Dillon, I’m willing to give it a shot.”
For her. As if she was something special.
Ugh. Earlier she’d thought about clubbing and now she was flying high because a guy had given her a compliment. My self-worth is not dependent on others.
She raised her chin. “Great. But do us both a favor and remember we’re doing this on a trial basis. You screw it up, you get cut. In more ways than one.”
LINCOLN WEST NEARLY put his fist through the front door of the WOH building. Fury was a prowling, fire-breathing dragon in his chest as he peered through the window, watching Jessie Kay interact with Daniel Porter, a man she used to date. A man younger than West, and even younger than Jessie Kay. What the hell were they discussing? Daniel’s need for a diaper change? The latest in pacifier technology?
Had the two started dating again? The way Daniel was grinning at her...
An animal-like growl split West’s lips, surprising him. He didn’t give two shits who Jessie Kay dated. Yes, she was temptation wrapped in seduction, a Southern beauty with a viper’s tongue, a rapier wit and a bone-deep grit that rivaled his own. Yes, she’d basically blown his mind with her brilliant concept of time. But it didn’t matter; she was completely off-limits, which made his behavior today a complete non sequitur.
Knowing she would insist on making sandwich deliveries despite the weather, he’d waited outside her house this morning, his car hidden by a mound of snow. He’d followed her into town to make sure she arrived in one piece, and as she’d distributed the goodies in her basket, he’d sat in his nice, warm office staring at the clock, bordering on panic when she failed to arrive at a reasonable time.
He’d planned to follow her home as soon as she left the office. Now Daniel could have the honor.
“I’ve known that girl since she upended my third-grade class.” Cora stapled a bundle of papers together. “Always in trouble for talking, always tardy, but always kindhearted. If anyone was having a bad day, she’d be the first to offer comfort and whatever dessert her mother had packed in her lunch box.”
He wished he’d known Jessie Kay back then. He would have been the kid she comforted, the one who received her dessert. Maybe they would have grown up to be friends. He’d had very few of those over the years. Hell, besides Jase and Beck, both of whom he’d met in foster care, he’d been alone.
Boo hoo. Poor baby.
He snapped, “Not another word about her,” and stalked to his office.
He couldn’t afford to like Jessie Kay. He just...couldn’t. There was too much feeling there. Some of it good—too good—and a lot of it bad.
The day he’d met her, he’d flashed back to Tessa, the only girl he’d ever loved. The girl he’d lost. He’d promised to throw her an elaborate party, a “congrats for passing your GED exam” only to forget. When she’d shown up expecting an adoring crowd, flowers and balloons, she’d gotten a coked-out West, cold beer and leftover pizza.
She’d burst into tears and driven away...and he’d found out a few hours later she crashed her car and died instantly.
The flashback had unnerved him. There’d been no reason for it.
Jessie Kay looked nothing like Tessa. The two were as different as night and day, in fact. While Tessa had been short and slender with dark hair and dark, almond-shaped eyes that hinted at a multicultural heritage, Jessie Kay was tall and curvy with pale hair and navy blue eyes that were always simmering with enough heat to blister.
The only thing they had in common? Both were beautiful. And, honestly, they were the only two women in the world capable of jacking up his blood pressure with only a glance.
When he’d been sober, he’d treated Tessa like a queen. Now he was always sober, but he only ever treated Jessie Kay like a portal to hell. Not on purpose. Or maybe it was on purpose. The first time he’d seen her, he’d wanted her with an intensity that had scared him stupid, but she’d ended up sleeping with Beck, and later on, Jase.
It’s my turn now.
The thought—one he’d had many times before—pissed him off. There was no reason good enough to risk bad blood between him and his friends. Not that either guy would care if he and Jessie Kay hooked up. They encouraged him to go for it at least once a day. They liked her. The problem was West. If he had her—this woman who sometimes haunted his dreams—would he grow to resent his friends for beating him to the finish line?
The mere possibility always stopped him from making a move. Always pissed him off more than the “my turn” nonsense. He would let nothing come between him and his boys.
West tossed the contaminated sandwich in the garbage, fell into his chair with a grunt and loosened the knot in his tie, which was currently choking the life out of him. If food touched the floor, it never touched his lips. In one of the foster homes he’d lived, the father found it hilarious to watch the kids in his care eat off dirty linoleum, their hands tied behind their backs.
Get used to it, boy. Some people aren’t meant for better.
Not all of the homes had been hellholes. Most had been pretty decent, granting him a better life than he ever would have had with his mom. Della West had never mistreated him and might have even loved him, but she’d loved her heroin more.
A knock sounded at his door. He glanced up to find Beck standing in the open doorway.
The six-foot self-proclaimed sex god strode into the office and plopped into the chair across from the desk. Flakes of snow dotted the guy’s hair, giving the gold and brown strands a deeper depth of color.
He unwound a cashmere scarf and shrugged out of his coat. “Saw Jessie Kay and Daniel Porter on my way in. You all right?”
He wished his friends had never clued in to his struggle—wanting her, but not wanting to want her. “I’m fine.”
“Well, could you do me a favor and inform your face? You look like you’re constipated.”
“Haven’t you heard? Constipation is the new black. All the cool kids are doing it. Or not doing it.”
Beck snorted, his amber eyes twinkling. Unfortunately, the amusement didn’t last long. “Seriously, my man. You good?”
The guy worried about him. That wasn’t new. To be honest, West worried about himself.
As a kid, he vowed he wouldn’t end up like his mother. And for most of his teenage years, he’d succeeded, treating drugs and alcohol like the enemy. Then Jase was sent to prison for a crime West and Beck helped him commit, and West had wanted to escape reality, just for a little while. Coke isn’t heroin, he’d rationalized. The same rationalization he’d used the next time...and the next...
When Tessa died, it wasn’t long before the highlight of his day was cutting blow and snorting from any flat surface he could find—before he woke up nearly every morning covered in his own vomit.
Eventually he lost his scholarship to MIT, which was just another reason to get high. He’d failed himself, but more important, he’d failed his friends. Jase had taken full responsibility for their crime so West could go to school, get a degree and make something of his life. Beck wasted years trying to get him clean.
Even now, guilt was too strong to shake.
He’d failed