All Amity Allows (Fall for You Book 2) (4 page)

She grinned at him. He’d been so busy being a disapproving ass that he hadn’t felt her shift herself and the car—as well as everything inside it—from L.A. to Michigan. She pulled her convertible into a parking spot that miraculously opened up the instant she needed it.

“Of course, I will,” she said with a winning smile. “Just show me the way.”

Chapter Three

Drew cursed himself
for his basic inability to stay away from Becca. It seemed ingrained in his very DNA to be near her. It was like there was some external force compelling him back to her desk over and over.

Even though he’d sworn to not spare her another thought, he seemed to gravitate toward the reception area far more regularly than he actually needed to. On at least three occasions, he’d found himself walking the corridor that lead to her desk only to wake from his trance-like state and realize that he was supposed to be in a completely different section of the hospital.

Then, when she’d left to meet Cathy in the cafeteria for lunch, he hadn’t been able to resist following the pair. He just needed to know her mind. Had she moved on already? Did she feel any sorrow over what they’d shared and lost? He’d tried to make himself as invisible as possible as he selected a table just a few seats away from the two girls, all the while wishing he could somehow develop the ability to hide in plain sight, as if such nonsense actually existed.

As it turned out, the spot he selected was perfect for listening to their conversation and better still, was hidden by a bush that had been brought into the space with the intention of brightening up the dim cafeteria. Now, it had become a secret hiding place where he could spy on the two women, much like the hours he’d spent in middle school secreted around corners to catch a sliver of unguarded interaction between Becca and her friends. He could feel in every part of him that the particular conversation he witnessed this time was far more important than anything he had overhead back then. More than anything, he wanted to know what Becca had to say for herself. He hoped he might finally hear the truth from her own lips, even though he really didn’t want to hear her say the “L” word in conjunction with that fucker’s name.

He heard one of the chairs at his table scrape across the floor, as if someone was planning on sitting with him, so he turned to warn whomever it was that he wasn’t in the mood for company. Big, puppy-dog eyes, belonging to one of the new interns, met the scowl firmly planted on Drew’s face. Drew had been introduced to the kid just a couple of days earlier, but couldn’t remember his name. Simon? Steven? It was definitely something beginning with an S. Drew nodded away from the table. He hoped that between the gesture and his unwelcoming expression the intern would get the hint that Drew wanted to be alone.

Luckily, the intern seemed to understand and backed away with his hands in the air. Drew figured he’d have to hunt the young man down eventually and apologize, but it wouldn’t be anytime soon. Not when Drew was possibly on the verge of discovering something big or at least hoped he was.

“So are you going to spill the beans willingly or am I going to have to come to your place tonight, ply you with wine, and force it out of you?” Cathy asked Becca after a few moments spent catching up on their days, which had been interspersed with long, awkward pauses.

Drew listened more intently to ensure he didn't miss a single word of Becca's reply.

Becca’s gaze dropped to the table in front of her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Drew’s breath caught in his throat at the sound of Becca’s voice. It was so carefree, so sweet and lilting, the way it always had been when she’d spoken to him before. The last time he’d heard it—
was that really only last night
?—it wasn’t lilting or sweet. It was broken and rough, and she was saying she was sorry to him while surrounded on all sides by someone else’s face.

Not sorry enough, he thought to himself as he crossed his arms and furrowed his brow.

He turned back to stare at the side of Becca’s head through the foliage. Just as he’d observed earlier, she didn’t seem to be suffering any post-break-up blues. He had his suspicions on exactly why that might be the case, but needed to hear it from her mouth before he’d believe she’d stoop so low so soon.

“Don’t know what I’m talking about?” Cathy repeated, disbelief clear in her tone. “You’re walking around like the cat that got the canary while Drew looks like said canary after the cat batted it around the house for a few days.”

Drew glanced down at his outfit, slightly insulted by Cathy’s assessment. Sure, he hadn’t taken quite as much care with his appearance before leaving the house as he usually did, but he didn’t look that bad.

Or do I, he wondered as he took in his rumpled shirt and crinkled pants. He ran his fingers over the stubble that marred his chin.

Maybe there’s a little truth in her statement, he thought. But if she knew what I’d been through, she’d understand.

Dismissing Cathy’s statement as hyperbole, he moved a few plant leaves out of the way to get an even better look at Becca’s profile. She looked guilty, or maybe he was just imagining the way that emotion might sit upon her face.

“Clearly something happened last night with Dr. Sex God,” Cathy continued. “So spill, missy.”

“It’s a long story,” Becca said, her voice dropping so low Drew almost couldn’t hear her.

He held his breath and leaned in closer.

“It’s just . . . last night . . .” She trailed off with a sad sigh and looked in Drew’s direction.

To avoid detection, Drew let go of the foliage, letting it fall back into place as a screen between them. He refused to avert his eyes or stop listening though.

Cathy leaned closer, practically tipping over the table in her haste to get within whispering distance of Becca. Not that it mattered because when she continued, she hadn’t dropped any of the volume out of her voice and Drew could still hear her just fine. Although, maybe that was because he was trying so hard to ensure he didn’t miss a single word of their conversation. “Don’t tell me he’s having issues downstairs?”

Drew’s hands formed into fists despite his aching joints. He was sorely tempted to march over to the table and inform Cathy that he certainly had no problems downstairs. He’d even prove it to her if he had to.

Becca shook her head before taking a sip of her lemonade. The way her lips caressed the bottle stirred reactions in Drew that he rightfully shouldn’t have had any longer. Knowing he'd have to work hard to convince his traitorous body not to find her attractive, he tried to will away the stirrings. The hurt that echoed through him should have been enough to keep his cock at rest, yet it wasn’t. After simply watching her take a sip of her drink, he was already pitching a tent in his pants. It was ridiculous the hold she had over him.

If she’d uttered a single word to indicate she wanted him back, he would have been back at her side in a heartbeat. He would have given Cathy a personal demonstration that his cock wasn’t the issue. No, it was that other
cock
who fucked everything up between Drew and Becca.

“We—we broke up.” For the first time, Becca showed some outward sign that she was even remotely upset that things had ended. It was only a slight downward tug of her lip, but Drew felt a rush of vindication that maybe she wasn’t as happy as she had looked at first.

Cathy gasped. “No! Why?”

Becca lowered her gaze to the bottle as she picked at the label. “Evan.”

The word was like a bucket of ice water dumped down his spine. The two-syllable explanation for their break-up was too much for Drew to bear, a stark reminder of why she would never ask him to take her back. He pushed away from his table. The sound of his chair scraping roughly against the floor called attention from all of the tables nearby and at least ten sets of eyes gazed in his direction.

Why am I even here
?
This is pathetic
.

He scowled at them all before turning to leave, meeting Becca’s gaze as he did. She looked aghast that he’d been nearby when she’d been moments away from gushing about that dick.

“Drew, wait!”

Even as he heard her call out to him again, he stalked away.

Amity stared
at the empty space that her brother had occupied just a second earlier.

Ass
, she thought to herself. He hadn’t even bothered to say goodbye before disappearing. He’d just dumped his big mistake on her to fix and then left. Sure, it was an intriguing assignment, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have at least employed some basic manners and said goodbye.

She looked at the hospital building across the street, trying to work out the best way to handle the situation she’d just been given. Michael inferred she should be covert, and that she should employ diplomacy and tact. The tone in his voice while he’d detailed the mistakes he and his lackeys had made left no doubt that he wanted her to be particularly discreet on this case.

Clearly, he doesn’t know me at all, she thought as she chuckled to herself.

She checked her face in the mirror, ensuring she was still happy with her current appearance. She decided her eyes needed to be a slightly darker shade of blue and her pink lips a shade or two lighter. When she took another glance, she smiled. It was so much easier just changing her appearance by small degrees rather than wasting all her energy applying and removing make-up each day like so many human women running around on Earth had to.

Deciding that her L.A. chic dress would probably look a little out of place in the small city hospital, she conjured herself into a new tank—precisely matching the color of her lips—and a pair of super skinny J Brand jeans. There was no point in completely denying who she was and not wearing something designer after all. For a moment, she debated on what would be the best shoe, but decided she just needed a new pair of Jimmys. They were her favorite after all and were damn near perfect with the exception of Heaven-induced breakages.

Once she was satisfied that she had her showstopper looks firmly cemented in place, she climbed from her car. She didn’t bother putting up the roof or locking the door. If someone stole it, it would only give her more reason to get a new one. Between the three-inch scratch that she’d erased from the rear quarter panel and the fact that she wasn’t quite sold on the color anymore, it was probably time for another anyway.

With a confidence that was impossible to fake, she sauntered to the crossing and with a flick of her wrist turned the traffic light from green to red. Four lanes of traffic screeched to a halt as they slammed on their brakes to keep from running the light. She didn’t even break her stride as she stepped onto the road and headed for the hospital.

Drew stood
a distance away from Becca’s desk, watching her do the menial tasks of her job. He’d been careful to ensure that she hadn’t seen him approach, and then spent five minutes watching her and wondering what she’d wanted to say when he’d rushed away, after she’d caught him spying. Truthfully, he didn’t want to ask because he suspected she was just going to try to apologize for what he’d overheard and then try to justify her actions by gushing about that other bastard. Drew knew he didn’t have the patience to deal with that sort of utterance. Not today; not while the hurt was still so raw.

Part of him—the pimply teen part who’d spent years watching Becca from the back of the classroom—refused to give up hope though. It was willing to take all of the sensible thoughts hostage and secure them tightly, to do anything to keep hope alive. That part played dirty, whispering words to encourage Drew to continue to pursue Becca. He would have said it was an almost supernaturally driven desire, if he had believed in such rubbish.

Internally, he slapped himself. He wasn’t completely delusional; he knew that wasn’t a possibility. Even if it was, he wasn’t sure he wanted it. She’d hurt him. There was nothing to say she wouldn’t do it again.

He watched as she worked, recognizing all the little ticks he’d always thought were so cute. She twirled the ends of the curls in her ponytail, stuck her tongue out of the corner of her mouth when she concentrated, and danced her fingers across the desk as she read her screen. The small movements reminded him of the quiet moments she’d shared with him while they were dating, when he’d stop by her desk randomly during the day and they’d flirt and share secretive, innocent touches. When she’d pass him little love notes and he’d make carnal promises about the way their night would progress.

Did he really deserve to be her second choice?

The answer was overwhelmingly clear to him, and yet there he was staring at Becca as if he had no choice in the matter.

While Becca was Drew’s entire focus, her concentration was elsewhere. If she noticed the weight of his gaze, she didn’t let it show. She didn't turn in his direction and offer a shy smile like she used to. Neither did she hide behind the ledge of the desk to block herself from his view. Instead, she just sat staring straight ahead at her monitor as her fingers moved over the keyboard. He might as well have been on the other side of the hospital. It was further evidence of how little he had actually meant to her.

Was I ever more than just a distraction
?

He thought back over their disagreements and the issues that seemed to have cropped up time and again over the last few weeks. He wondered whether maybe he’d pushed when he should have backed off. Surely Becca was able to understand that all he’d wanted was for her to find her dreams and follow them, and that he was poised ready and willing to do whatever was necessary to support her.