18. Fallon
Chapter eighteen
Fallon
If I thought Luca’s birth was a mindfuck of emotions, attending a fundraiser for work seven and a half months after my fiancé died is a mindfuck times a million.
The venue is a gorgeous mini-mansion a couple of towns over. It was a Roman Catholic church until it was renovated into an event venue. With tall ceilings, marble floors, and stained-glass windows, it takes your breath away. It’s dark and moody, with sparkling fairy lights draping the space.
I know about a quarter of the people here. Some acquaintances, some coworkers on other teams, some clients, and some people I know from around town.
According to Shay, the navy dress looks fucking divine on me. The navy suit on Jeb also looks the same… according to me, not Shay.
We definitely clean up well.
But we aren’t the problem. It’s the rest of the people. Isn’t that always the case?
Everyone else is the problem . I should put that on a tee.
Once the appetizer trays make their rounds and the cocktails are thrown back, it’s nothing but fake praise and sucking up. When it comes to me, though, the guests seem unsure of what to do or say. Everyone is small-talking and tiptoeing around Rhett’s death… and my date for the evening.
Judging by the look on Melanie Kahoe’s face, she knows exactly who Jeb is, and she’s surprised he’s here. He’s practically hidden himself away since the accident, and so have I. I’m sure the two of us here, together, will be the talk of the town. We’re probably flooding group texts right now.
Melanie, a teller at The Bank of Jubilee, makes a beeline for the two of us, and we have nowhere to hide.
“Hey, Fallon. It’s nice to see you. You look great,” she says simply enough.
“Thanks. It’s nice to see you too,” I reply cordially.
“Jeb, nice to see you here as well,” she drawls, and I make out the gossipy undertones clear as day.
“You also.” He keeps his response short and sweet. I look up at him and can tell he has no idea who she is, making the whole interaction funny as hell.
Melanie walks away as quickly as she came, ditching us for a waiter with a tray of martinis.
“Do you want to get food?” Jeb whispers in my direction.
“Of course, I’ve been eyeing it since we got here.” I follow closely behind him as he makes his way toward the buffet table.
“Fallon.” A deep voice comes from behind, and I stop abruptly as a wrap hand around my waist.
I turn in time to see Stephen Jupiter. A sleazy client from work. One I also went to high school with. Rhett, too.
“Hey,” I turn to look at him. Not much of a choice since his sleazy-ass hands are still on my waist, and now he’s spinning me. Rhett would’ve clocked him without a second thought. I hope Jeb notices that I’m not following him anymore.
“This dress, Fallon. Hugs your curves in the best way.”
“Thanks, but no thanks, Stephen.” I spin the opposite way, out of his grasp.
“Rhett knew how to pick ’em, aye?” Rhett’s rolling in his grave right now. Hell, this sentence could probably be the thing that raises him from the dead.
“That’s enough.” I hear Jeb’s voice, more gravelly than I’ve heard it before.
“And you are?” Stephen asks, holding his hand to shake Jeb’s.
Jeb rejects the offer but tells Stephen his name. I wince, knowing Stephen has probably kept tabs on the details of Rhett’s accident.
“Jumping in his grave, Jeb?” Stephen boasts loudly, bringing his thick arms to his gelatinous stomach before laughing, Santa Claus–style.
“You need to watch what you say.” Jeb’s stern voice has my eyes widening.
I like protective Jeb.
“So it seems that the answer is yes.” He turns his attention to me, “Fallon, I’m sure Rhett would—”
"I wouldn't finish that sentence." Jeb grabs his arm and pulls him away from me. The two of them head to the hallway, Stephen’s stumpy legs barely keeping up with Jeb. I busy myself at the buffet table, filling two plates with various cheeses and meatballs, then find a seat at our table. A few minutes later, I spot Jeb walking toward me from the dark hallway, sans Stephen.
“You want to call a Harriet?” he asks me when he gets to the table.
“No, I’m fine,” I tell him truthfully. “I did an hour’s worth of hair and makeup and shaved my legs for this. I don’t want to leave because of Stephen fucking Jupiter.”
Jeb pulls his chair out and sits beside me.
“Is he okay? Or should I not ask?”
“He’s fine, but he won’t be back tonight.” Jeb picks up a meatball on a toothpick and pops it in his mouth. The sides of my lips curl at his ominous, yet sexy words.
I wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn't.
“Let’s get dinner. Looks like the main buffet just opened.” He walks ahead of me again, and we weave through circular tables.
When we get back to the table with full plates, there’s a couple sitting across from us. “The green beans are great, aren’t they?” the man says, taking a bite.
“I haven’t tried mine yet, but they look delicious,” Jeb replies, unfolding his napkin.
“I’m Paulie Jusczyk, and this is my wife Helen. I’m the regional manager of the Jubilee County Library.”
“Hi. I’m Fallon McCann, and this is Jeb Baker. I work for Tilghman Design Co. I just finished designing the brochure for your Babies Love Books event. Nice to meet you.”
“Oh, Fallon. I know we’ve emailed back and forth a few times, but I never had a face to put with your name,” Paulie says, shoving another forkful into his mouth.
“We were sorry to hear about Rhett, sweetie,” his wife says, and I almost choke on my food.
Jeb links his pinky with mine under the table, and he squeezes. With his left hand, he spears a pile of romaine. I chat on and on about library brochures, but the squeeze of his pinky stays. We continue pleasantries with the Jusczyk’s and finish dinner with out fingers linked. I don’t know if he’s left-handed or just eating that way while his right hand is linked with mine. But I’m not complaining.
“Should we wait for deserts or just head out now?” I ask him, suddenly exhausted from the Jusczyks. They mostly avoided talking about Rhett, but Helen couldn’t help sliding probing questions into the conversation. She’d ask how I’m holding up or how work has been. I’m not physically tired, but mentally I’m done.
“Harriet,” he whispers amusedly. “But first, let’s grab a cookie to go.”
"Sounds like a good plan."
Once we are in Jeb’s truck, he lets out a deep exhale, and my shoulders pull away from my ears. The ride home is quiet except for the low hum of country music on the radio.
It's peaceful.
The next thing I know, Jeb is opening the passenger door. It takes a moment to orient myself—we’re parked in my driveway, and Jeb is standing there.
“Doze off?” he asks, reaching across my lap to unbuckle my seat belt while I sit, stunned.
It takes a few extra seconds to respond. I’m still half asleep and very aware of Jeb’s close proximity as his forearm rests on my thigh to unclick the belt.
“You’re home.” He taps my leg twice.
“Thanks, I didn’t realize I was sleeping.” I yawn, slowly turning to hop down from his truck.
“I’ll walk you to your door.” He gestures for me to walk ahead of him, and I stop at the screened door to the deck.
“Thanks for coming with me tonight. It really means a lot to me.” I lift my eyes to glance at him. My words, a breathy whisper in the clear night.
“I don’t know if I’m allowed to say this, and please forgive me if this makes you uncomfortable or upset in any way, but I didn’t want to end the night without telling you that you look beautiful.” His mouth ticks, his eyes shifting to the river.
His words catch me off guard, and I don’t quite know how to react, so I turn to stare at the river, too. It’s nothing but a friendly remark, but the way he said it… He sounds pained.
“I don’t know if you’re allowed to say it, either. But I’m glad you did. It was a tough night, and I think we did good.”
“We did. But I shouldn’t have said that, Fallon. I’m not coming on to you or anything. I just wanted you to know that I noticed how you curled your hair and the little design on your nails. Your dress is stunning and you are so brave for how you handled everything in there. Rhett would be really proud of you tonight. I know I am.”
Instantly, I wrap my arms around his torso, and he responds by cradling my head into the crook of his neck.
“I’m sorry, Fallon,” he whispers into my hair. “It seems I have a talent for making you cry, and I don’t know how to stop.”
This man says all the right words at all the right times. He called me brave. He’s proud of me. I’ve never thought of myself as a praise girl, but the way Jeb speaks about me makes me want to hug him and hold him forever. It’s so nice to be noticed and feel seen, especially after feeling so lonely and isolated.
“It’s a half-happy and half-sad cry.” I sniffle. “Thank you for noticing everything. I can’t tell you how much that means to me. You were brave tonight, too.” I pull away, and my cry turns into a laugh. “But tell me, what happened to Stephen Jupiter?”
“I pulled him around the corner and told him that his boss wouldn’t be happy to know he was making out with his wife in the corner of the lobby earlier tonight, and he decided to leave early.”
“No shit! You saw Stephen kissing his boss’s wife?”
“I saw it before I put two and two together. Then, once he came on to you, I figured he must’ve been tongue-kissing a woman that wasn’t his. I scanned the room for the woman he was kissing and saw her snuggled up with a man, both wearing wedding rings. I didn’t know the guy was Stephen’s boss. He told on himself with that one. Either way, he left, and now I have something to hold over his head if need be. He won't be bothering you again.”
I brush my fingers across my mouth, kind of amazed. “Thanks for that. Now, who’s Harriet the Spy? I need to get these shoes off. Want to come in for a minute?” I ask, wanting to prolong the night. I could offer him a cup of coffee. We could talk about life. I don’t want him to go yet, but I understand that he probably should. It’s been a long night for both of us.
Jeb shifts his eyes from the river to my house. He sticks his hands in his front pockets, and his brown eyes meet mine.
“I think I’ll just head home, Fal. Unless you need anything from me inside.”
The gala-type atmosphere has tricked my mind into thinking this is a date. The suit, the dress, the way he picked me up in his truck and handled Stephen, when he held my hand under the table… Unbuckling me and walked me to the door.
“No, just trying to be polite and hospitable.” I smile.
“Ever a good hostess.” He smirks, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Thanks for a good night.” I rest my hand on the doorknob. “Always a good time when you don’t throw up on my flowers.”
“Is this going to be a thing between us? I love inside jokes about me throwing up.”
Opening the door to the house, I shoo my cats away, then turn around to face Jeb, peeking my head out.
“Yes, it’s a thing between us.” Laughter gurgles from my chest as I try hard not to smile.
Jeb reaches his hand toward me. It’s almost in slow-motion as he swipes his thumb across the side of my cheek. My breath hitches when I think he’s going to kiss me. My heart hurdles like an Olympian. My foot pops up behind the door, and ever so slightly, I shift forward.
Jeb pulls away, smirking.
“And you drool when you sleep. Can I bring up that, too?” He winks and turns for the driveway. He yells over his shoulder, “Good night, Fallon.”
What the hell just happened?