The Harder You Fall

You cold?

But after only three dates, all of which had ended with a passionate kiss at her door, he’d pulled the plug.

A good thing, actually.

According to Momma, a girl shouldn’t give her pearls to pigs. Dorian was as far from pig-like as possible—a sweetheart who treated her with nothing but respect and kindness—but the message fit all the same. If she didn’t have a future with a guy, why waste her precious time? Especially considering she’d wasted so much already.

She was twenty-seven years old and the dreaded thirty was creeping up on her like an insidious disease. Or the worst thing on the planet—a spider. Did she have a single prospect? No! Because the only guy capable of eliciting a lasting response in her was a bastard of the highest order some days, most days, and a charmer without equal the others. Again, a charmer to everyone but her for reasons he’d never had the courtesy to share with her. Not that it mattered...even though he could melt her panties with only a glance.

The next piece of beefcake she welcomed into her bed would like the crap out of her, figuratively speaking, and that was that.

You outshine the sun, Anna Grace. There’s nothing about you I would change.

Her father’s words to her mother only solidified her vow. Jessie Kay’s next man wouldn’t set a timer on their relationship, like some people she knew. He would fight tooth and nail to stay with her, no matter what.

Basically, the relationship equivalent of West and his soccer ball.

Her phone buzzed again, and when she checked the screen, a smile bloomed. Since her run-in with Daniel earlier in the week, they’d stayed in constant contact.

Daniel: Come over tonight. We’ll eat SpaghettiOs, my fave. Just for the privilege of your company, I’m willing to watch The Big Bang Theory, How I Met Your Mother or New Girl

Her: You know what would be cool??? If those 3 shows were combined. How I Banged the New Girl Before I Met Your Mother :-) :-) :-)

Daniel: OK. You owe me a new phone. I just spit coffee all over this one

Her: Consider it the price you pay for being friends w/such a “sass mouth” (as Mom used to say) and too bad for you, I’m hanging w/ my girls 2night

Daniel: Pencil me in soon. Pleeease (look at me, willing to beg)

Her: We’ll see!

Daniel: Since I’m not getting sex from you, I’m only in this friendship for the fun, remember?

Her: Fine. I’ll consider giving you a few minutes of JK time tomorrow—but I’ll hear your thanks NOW

Daniel: Someone needs to spank your ass...but thank you

She so did not want to be buoyed by his eagerness to spend time with her, but dang it, she was. Maybe she should try dating him again—

No. No! No second chances in the romance department. Ever.

Build a house on sand, and the first storm that comes along will topple it. Build on a firm foundation, and the house will withstand anything.

She would give anything for just one more conversation with her mom. Just one more hug.

The crowd erupted into bloodthirsty cheers, jolting her from her thoughts, and she glanced up in time to watch another member of Ball Busters hit the wall, impact so strong it even shook the bleachers. As the guy slipped to the floor, he left a smear of crimson behind. Through it, Jessie Kay met West’s stare.

She saw hunger...such gnawing hunger...

He gave her a look so raw and carnal, she felt stripped of every piece of clothing in less than a second. That look said he couldn’t go a minute more without having her in his bed. That he would suffocate without her. That she’d become the center of his world—his gravity.

It was a lie. A nasty, nasty lie.

Or she was only seeing what she wanted to see. A problem of hers.

Even still, goose bumps broke out over her skin and fire blazed in her veins. Savage, sexy beast. Gimme.

Before she did something stupid—like throw what was left of her panties at him—she buffed her nails.

“Hey, Jessie Kay, Harlow. I finally made it.”

She turned to see Brook Lynn climbing the bleachers and sighed with relief. Her sister had always been her saving grace.

The blonde, blue-eyed beauty had rescued Jessie Kay from certain disaster so many times over the years, she’d earned a JK life-preserver badge. If the little darling hadn’t become the mother they’d lost, despite being two years younger, Jessie Kay would have ended up on the streets...and oh, crap. Guilt gnawed on her soul. Guilt like she hadn’t felt in years—because she hadn’t let herself feel it, numbed by keggers and “romance.”

She was the worst sister ever. She’d destroyed Brook Lynn’s entire world. She was the worst daughter ever. She’d escorted her mother to death’s door, rung the bell and ran away. She’d insulted her father hours before he died and, and, and—

She focused on that, the least horrendous of her crimes, hoping to stop the panic attack in its tracks. And for a moment it worked, the arena disappearing, replaced by the kitchen walls of her childhood home—the home she still lived in—morning sunlight shining through the large bay window.

“Go change out of those shorts and into something appropriate,” her father demanded.

“But Daddy—”

“You’re still a child, Jessie Kay. My baby girl. You shouldn’t wear skintight pants with the word naughty scripted over your backside.”

“I’m not a child! I’m—”

“No argument. Just action.”

She stomped her foot. “Sunny has a pair just like them, and her dad thinks they’re cool.”

“He isn’t your dad. Go change.”

“Well, I wish he was my dad!” she shouted. “I like him better.”

She raced to her room, and a short while later Daddy left for work...but he’d never come home.

A manager at Dairyland, he’d been speaking to one of his engineers about a broken machine. A machine that exploded, killing them along with half the workforce.

He’d died thinking she wanted a different father.

“Hey, hey. You okay?” Soft hands cupped her cheeks.

Jessie Kay blinked and found her sister sitting beside her, familiar features darkened with concern. “I’m fine.” She gave her sister a big ol’ bear hug, and she probably held on far too long, probably clung far too tight, but dang it, she loved the girl. “Just thinking about Daddy,” she said when she pulled away, careful to articulate her words.

Brook Lynn was born with a severe case of hyperacusis—a condition that caused her to hear even the quietest everyday noises at a screaming volume—forcing her to wear bulky devices in both ears to muffle and even mute sounds.

“We’ve talked about this.” Brook Lynn gave her cheeks a firm pat. “Do I really need to give you another lecture?”