Page 41 of Fall Over You

“Or would you rather me go get Mr. Turtle from the road the other day? I’m sure he’d be happy to help.”

He sighs and shakes his head. “This is never going to work.”

I dust my hands on my thighs and stand. “You know what? You’re right. You need to make a decision. Choose to show me some basic respect and do this thing with me, or get the hell out and let me get back to work.”

Then I storm out into the yard to play with his daughter who doesn’t doubt my worth.

As I’m getting ready for bed, I get a text from Tyler.

TYLER

I thought about it.

I’m in.

I think up forty-nine different pissed-off, clever, and sassy responses before I settle for the very rational and mature truth underneath it all.

BECCA

I’m only in if you start treating me like you respect me.

The little shit put a thumbs up on my text.

Wow. Commitment. But the show goes on.

TYLER

Can you get Ellie from school tomorrow morning? May as well start now.

FIFTEEN

TYLER

I pull up to the preschool to find Becca already chatting with some mom, waiting outside at pickup. I’m using the excuse that I need to give Becca a carseat for Ellie, but the flowers in my hand say otherwise. The florist was highly entertained by the way my cheeks flamed hot when she helped me pick out a bouquet.

Becca quirks a brow when she sees me heading her way. My stomach is in knots and right now, it seems it would be wiser to haul ass down the street and back to work.

“Hey, Reba,” I say, and my stupid voice has to crack. Of course, I can’t be smooth. I used to be so fucking smooth, and then I had a daughter and her mother left me for some more exciting life elsewhere. Now I’m about as rusty at dating as a bike left out in the rain, wheels squeaking and brakes honking.

Becca’s eyes brighten and she looks entertained by my suffering. This is not surprising, as I’m pretty sure she delights any time I’m uncomfortable. Like calling me Big Daddy and asking what I’m going to do about it, thinking she’s not asking for trouble. Good news for her: I’ve been tortured ever since I laid eyes on her in this blue plaid flannel and jeans, her hair in a loose braid over her shoulder.

If she called me Big Daddy right now, it would take every ounce of my self-restraint to keep from wrapping that braid around my fist.

And I can’t think about Becca like that. We’re exploring a long-term solution to both of our problems, and I can’t go muddying the water with sex. It could blow everything up before we even get it off the ground.

The focus is getting more financially stable, not getting laid. Her innocent greeting brings me back down to Earth.

“Hi there,” she says, sauntering to meet me away from the other parents. “Did you not want me to pick Ellie up today?”

“No, I do. I forgot I’d need to get you a car seat for her.”

“Oh. Right. I knew that,” Becca says.

I take off my ballcap to scratch the top of my head and fluff my hair. “And I, uh, got you something.” I extend the flowers her way.

“Oh.” Becca’s voice is tiny. “Thanks.”

“They’re to say sorry. I wasn’t very nice to you yesterday and you don’t deserve that.”