17. Jeb
Chapter seventeen
Jeb
You’re never going to believe what I’m about to tell you.
Fallon Charlotte McCann
You have my attention…
I was driving back from the station today after working out with the guys, and I made a split-second decision to stop at the hardware store. I’ve been thinking about repainting the windowsills in the basement and…
I hit the send button on the text, then decide to call Fallon instead. It’s selfish of me, but I know she’ll laugh, and instead of seeing the lol on the screen, I want to hear it for myself. I’d never admit that to anyone but myself, but hearing her laugh… it just does something to me. The way her unbridled happiness bubbles from her throat before it spills over. It’s becoming my favorite sound, whether I want it to or not. It reminds me that it’s okay to be happy.
“Hey,” she answers on the second ring.
“Hey, the story was getting too long, and I figured it was probably better to call instead.”
“All right, so you were wanting to paint your windowsills…”
“Yes, I had eggshell white but needed a glossier white, so,”
“Jeb?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m still waiting for the part where I’m never going to believe something. I hope it isn’t about paint finishes.”
“No. Let me finish! So I’m at the hardware store. I bought the paint and put it on the passenger floor of my truck.”
“I swear to God, I hope this story picks up soon.” She lets out a little laugh, which only makes me want to hear it again.
“Patience, Fallon.” I smile as I turn the faucet on to put water in a bowl. “I shut my passenger door, and that’s when I hear the bushes rustling. I thought it was a bird until a little squeak came. So I got down on my knees, poking my head around, and out popped a freaking kitten. A little gray kitten!”
Silence stretches for a second or two until the sound I crave escapes her body in ribbons. “I told you you’re an animal whisperer!”
“And you told your friend you heard a cat in the bushes.”
“Oh my gosh, I forgot about that.” Her voice jumps an octave as she tries to talk while she’s laughing. “So, did you catch the kitten?”
“I didn’t need to catch it. It just walked right up to me. Can you hear it? It’s purring in my arms right now.” I put the speaker of the phone closer to the kitten snuggled on my lap.
“You spoke too soon about the cat distribution program. I guess it found you! Do you need anything for the cat? I can bring some things over.”
“No, my mom’s running out right now to get food and a litter box, so I think we’re okay.” I pat the little ball of fluff.
“Jeb! Are you keeping it?”
“I think so, but I don’t know much about cats. I feel like we’ve bonded, though. It purrs loudly when I pet it; I think it likes me. I feel weird calling it it, but I don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl.”
“Probably a girl if she purrs when you rub her that much.”
Fallon’s words catch me off guard. I fake-laugh, half regretting the phone call. Getting close to Fallon is something I can’t allow myself to do.
“Probably so,” I agree, even though I shouldn’t. “I’m going to make a vet appointment soon, so we’ll find out then, I guess.”
“I can’t wait to meet the little fluff ball. Send me a picture when we get off the phone.
“I will. See ya.”
“Bye Jeb, Congrats!”
I snap a photo of the kitten curled into the crook of my arm, fast asleep, and send it to Fallon.
Fallon Charlotte McCann
That kitten’s no fool. From living behind the hardware store to sleeping in your arms. You should name her Lucky!
Sounds like a great name. Lucky it is.
“Should we have a safeword?” Fallon asks, turning to face me.
The cab of this truck is too small. We are in too tight a space for how pretty Fallon looks tonight. Her dress has a little diamond cutout in the middle under her breasts, and it is quite possibly the hottest piece of clothing I’ve ever seen.
I was not prepared for blond curls, a sleek and stunning navy dress, and pink lips the shade of raspberry sherbet. How good Fallon would look in a dress never crossed my mind until she pulled her door open, whooshing the outside air in and taking my breath with it.
“Safeword for what?” I ask casually so she can’t tell that my mind isn’t in the right headspace. I don’t know what’s come over me recently. Shit.
“If we need to leave abruptly, like if you feel like you might throw up your dinner into the fancy cloth napkins, or if I need a hug and want to bawl my eyes out.”
“I don’t think that needs a safe word, Fal. We can just say something like I need some fresh air, or want to take a walk outside? ”
“Yeah, but a safeword is more fun. Like I’m ‘Harriet the Spy.’”
“Blast from the past—wow. My sister used to love that movie.”
“Me too. Our safeword will be Harriet,” she says.
“You don’t think it would be weird to say Harriet then run outside?”
“Weird, yes. Do I still want to do it? Also, yes.”
She rolls the window down, the outside air wafting her perfume in my direction. Vanilla and honey, if I had to guess. I focus on the drive, avoiding I-85 at all costs.
“Anything I should know about the fundraiser or the people there?”
“I don’t even know much about the people there.” She rubs her hands down her face nervously. “The fundraiser is for the Food Bank of Jubilee, but Tilghman Design Co. is one of the biggest sponsors. We give tickets to our clients. I haven’t gone the past few years because only one person from each team gets a ticket.”
“Oh, my parents have been to this fundraiser before. I remember my mom getting her hair done for the first time, and I thought she looked like a movie star.”
Fallon runs her hand through her curls, shaking them out.
“I wish I felt like a movie star right now. Instead, I feel like I might be the one who wants to throw up. The closer we get, the more my stomach twists.”
“Say Harriet, and I’ll turn around right now.” I keep my eyes on the road, but I can still see her throw her head back and laugh. Something about making Fallon laugh has me feeling like a man on top of the world. “I’m serious. Tell them I have a stomach bug or had a panic attack, and we had to turn around. I don’t care what you say, but blame it on me if you don’t want to go.”
“No, I’ll be fine when we get there. I know I will. I’m just nervous about nothing, I’m sure.”
I reach across the cab of my truck and lightly rub her arm. “Say Harriet, and we’re gone. I’ll handle the reasons why.” I quickly pull my arm back, but it’s too late to forget the silky way her skin felt beneath my fingers.