When I Fall (Alabama Summer #3)

“It wouldn’t matter,” I manage through a thick voice, throwing my arm on the back of the seat so that it’s between us.

My fingers brush her soft hair, and she seems to lean closer, giving me more of it. I continue after I force my hand to clamp down on the seat.

“When we’re together on Saturday, when you’re with me, that won’t matter. You understand?” I say my words slowly, hoping they’ll sink in and we’ll never have to talk about this again.

“It would never matter.”

What the fuck did I just say?

She sucks in a sharp breath, nods, and drops her head back down. “It wouldn’t matter for me either.” Her fingers begin working the harness again.

Well shit.

I get out of the truck before I can say anything else that sounds like a damn confession, and before I let what she just admitted affect me in any way. Fuck. Maybe taking her to a restaurant where they serve tequila as a condiment wasn’t the best idea. I’m already acting like an open fucking book with this woman. Add in alcohol, and who the fuck knows what all I’m going to say?

She hops down out of the truck without waiting for my assistance. Her face is a bit flushed, and I wonder if it’s from the rain that’s got a bit of a chill to it, or the conversation we just had.

“I’m so hungry right now, I think I could eat a taco the size of my head.” Her voice breaks with a laugh, all cute and soft. She joins me on the sidewalk with her one hand still gripping her phone.

“We could make a game out of this,” I reply, opening the door of the restaurant and allowing her to walk ahead of me. Her eyes meet mine over her shoulder, waiting. “Whoever eats the most, gets out of paying. I was going to treat you to lunch, but if you think you’re up for a challenge . . .”

“Deal,” she says, almost triumphantly. She turns to face me after we get inside. “You’re underestimating me because of my size. I may be little, but I can pack away food like a squirrel on a nut hunt.”

I look down at her, watching that damn smile grow so big, I know it’s matching the one I’m wearing now.

“Nut hunt?”

She giggles as her free hand wipes the water drops off her forehead. “You like that? You can use it if you want.”

“Yeah,” I answer, lifting one eyebrow. “I’ll be sure to let everyone know I go hunting for nuts.”

The hostess walks up to the podium we’re standing behind and picks up two menus. “Booth or table?”

I motion with my head for Beth to decide. Doesn’t matter to me.

“Booth,” she replies.

The hostess leads us to the back of the restaurant and sets the menus on the table. Beth settles into one side of the booth, picking up her menu which I quickly snatch out of her hands. She eyes me curiously as I pick up the other menu and hand them back to the hostess.

“We’ll take two of the taco platters with everything on the side. I’ll have a root beer with mine.” I sit down across from Beth, waiting until she looks at me before I ask, “What do you want to drink?”

“Sweet tea.”

“Okay. I’ll let your waitress know.” The hostess steps away with our order as Beth sets her phone down in front of her. I reach for it, sliding my thumb across the lock screen and opening up her contacts.

“What are you doing?”

“Putting my number in here. In case for some reason after I drop you off, you want to call me and apologize.” I enter my phone number and set the phone back down in front of her.

She looks down at the phone, then back up at me. “And why would I do that?”

“For thinking you could beat me in a taco-eating competition.”

“I don’t think I can beat you. I know I can beat you.”

“You sure about that?”

“Absolutely.”

“Okay. Let’s make it a little more interesting then.”

She leans back, intrigue lifting her eyebrows. “Name your terms.”

The waitress returns with our drinks, and we both take a sip, looking at each other over the glasses.

I use this moment to think of something, anything to up the stakes because I honestly didn’t think she’d call me out on it. If by some miracle she does beat me, I never had the intention of making her pick up the check. This may not be a date, but I’m not an asshole. The only woman I ever let pay when we’re out together is Tessa, and that’s only because she likes to remind me she has the bigger dick out of the two of us, and arguing with her is exhausting.

“Well?” Beth asks, licking the tea off her lips. Her one hand tucks some stray hair behind her ear that fell out of her braid, as her other stays wrapped around her glass that’s back on the table. “Worried whatever you’re about to say, you’re going to have to do?”

“No. There’s no way in hell you’re going to beat me.”

“Then what is it?”

“I can’t think of anything.” I set my glass down and brace my weight on my elbows. My mouth presses against my hands that are folded in front of my face, and I watch her eyes drop to a spot on the table between us.

“Can I ask you something?”