Free fall, p.11
Free Fall, page 11
In general, she liked people.
And plus, Frankie had promised to give her a box of the rice, cranberry, super dark chocolate mix as payment.
That was a good enough deal for Raven.
Though, speaking of Frankie, she made a mental note to make sure her friend took a break at some point that day. She was helping out this weekend because the store was slammed—Frankie’s stock shipment from Thursday had been delayed until that morning, conflicting with her usual Saturday cooking class, and then adding in the normal Saturday farmer’s market crowds, and Earthly Delights had been hopping with a steady influx of customers.
Raven carried the combination of boxes and mixes—the elegant older woman trailing her—to the counter, adding it to the pile of other items the woman accumulated as Frankie had assisted her with her shopping.
She did this so Frankie could continue on with her restocking.
Her friend had almost made it through the entire truckload.
Then Frankie was going to switch to prepping for the private cooking class she was hosting that evening.
The bell rang over the door just as Raven was finishing scanning the older woman’s items and stacking them in the reusable canvas totes she’d brought in. Printed with elegant patterns that matched her clothing and makeup and jewelry. Not haphazard. Not mismatched. Not frayed at the edges.
Perfectly coordinated.
That was well out of Raven’s realm of abilities.
“Welcome to Earthly Deligh—”
Frankie’s voice cut off so abruptly that Raven’s gaze jerked up, immediately going to her friend. Whose eyes had gone wide, her stare on the man who’d just walked in.
“Earthly Delights indeed,” breathed the elegant older woman.
And…fuck if that wasn’t the precise thought drifting through Raven’s mind.
The man who strolled into Frankie’s shop wasn’t beautiful. But he was all man, all strength and power and sex appeal. This was a man who could pick a woman up and effortlessly fuck her against the wall, all while engaging in a firefight.
Dodging bullets, but never losing his rhythm.
Fucking his woman into a loose-limbed pleasure then carrying her out through that storm of activity with nary a bump.
And…
She was ridiculous.
And…
Somehow, she still didn’t think she was completely wrong.
“Can I help you?” Frankie croaked.
“He can help me,” the older lady whispered, turning back to the register with wide eyes.
Okay, so elegance of the matching tote bag variety might not be Raven’s superpower, but she and the woman had at least a little bit in common.
The older woman waggled her brows.
Raven giggled then went back to scanning and bagging.
But she was watching the man approach Frankie out of the corner of her eye. Her friend looked positively tiny next to him, like she could definitely be the woman he was taking to pound town while in the middle of that firefight—
Right.
That was probably enough thinking about sex. And Frankie. Though, she figured that she and Connor could make wall-banging happen if they got creative about it.
He was strong, and they were smart.
They could use physics to their advantage.
She should text him. They could plan—
The bell twinkled again, another customer coming in and thankfully breaking Raven out of her sex fog. She finished bagging, helped Ms. Elegant carry her bags to her car then came back in time to see Frankie swiping the man’s credit card.
Holy hell.
The view from behind was…chef’s kiss.
“Thank you,” he said and sounded like he meant it.
Polite and hot.
And Frankie had noticed too if her slightly squeaking voice and shaking hands were any indication when she passed over the Earthly Delights branded paper bag and said, “You’re very welcome.”
He smiled, took the bag, and left, prowling out like the big, yummy ball of muscle he was.
She waited as the bell tinkled again, waited as the door shut, and then turned to Frankie with wide eyes. “Who was that?” she asked softly.
“Lex Blackwell,” Frankie said, just as softly. Her mouth tipped up. “I spied his name on his credit card.”
“What did he buy?”
“Melatonin.” Frankie cleared the squeak from her throat. “And protein power—plant-based.” Hell, that sounded like her friend had fallen half in love already. “And a package of my granola bars.”
“I thought we were out of granola bars.”
Farmer’s market mornings meant the stock went fast.
Frankie nibbled at her bottom lip. “I pulled out my emergency backup from the kitchen.”
Nope.
Raven was wrong.
Frankie had to be fully in love.
Her granola bars were her specialty, and she never relinquished her emergency backups. Not for puppy dog eyes or hungry children or people willing to pay triple or quadruple the price.
Okay, she’d probably give them to hungry children because she was nice like that.
But for a random guy, even a scorching hot one who could navigate orgasms and firefights and had a delicious ass?
Never.
Except…for Lex.
Smothering a grin, Raven rounded the corner of the counter, spied her cell next to the register, and snagged it.
Because, for one, she definitely needed to text Connor to make some plans that involved physics and walls and centers of gravity.
For another, she needed to do some social media spying on one Lex Blackwell.
Third? She had some gossip that needed to be reported to the group chat.
However, as she went to unlock her screen, her cell rang.
She swiped, put it up to her ear. “Hello?”
“You selfish little bitch.”
Her mom’s voice hit her like a ton of bricks, so abrupt and intense that she didn’t react at first.
“I am your mother and you—”
She hung up.
Tapped that the screen, blocking the new number her mom had called from.
Classic.
Borrowing a phone or getting a new prepaid because she hadn’t kept up with her bills.
Also known as, another way to fuck with her daughter.
Cool.
Fun.
“Who was that?”
Raven pocketed her phone—text messages could happen later—and normally, she would have put Frankie off, would have changed the subject.
It wasn’t the right time.
Frankie had a shop to run.
But…she could give some bare details, could fill her friend in enough so that she didn’t worry. She could be open with a person who loved her.
So, she took a breath and did just that.
Gave enough to ease the worry on Frankie’s face.
Then took the hug and gentle words of her friend’s response.
And later, when the shop quieted, she gave the rest. The parts she’d only told Auntie Pat and Connor.
And…found that the sky didn’t fall, the universe didn’t implode.
She was still Raven. Frankie was still Frankie.
But she also discovered that her giving meant that they were closer, and she felt about a hundred pounds lighter.
No hiding.
No shame.
No thinking she didn’t deserve the bright, beautiful friendship that Frankie gave.
Just taking.
And, for once, being completely okay with it.
Twenty-Two
Connor
“Hey, baby, you wanna get out of here?”
He froze, fingers on the keyboard, and glanced back over his shoulder, seeing Raven popping her head around the corner, peeping on him while he worked at the nurse’s station.
“Does that line actually work?”
A shrug. Her lips turned up. “The ladies like it.”
He smothered a grin, pushed in the keyboard, and stood, prowling over to her, getting close—though not too close, considering they were at work.
They’d laid the groundwork with HR, not wanting to fuck anything up for either of them with them both working in the same department while they explored this connection between them. Since there wasn’t a policy on record forbidding it, they were good. But further than that, it hadn’t been an issue. Mostly, he figured, because they were both good at their jobs and they normally worked opposite shifts. Unless Raven was on call or one of them worked overtime, there would be minimal overlap.
Of course, he didn’t want to make it an issue either since they were currently on the same shift (and he figured the powers that be would frown upon him making out with his woman in the middle of the department), so he stopped a couple of feet away.
“And what do these ladies who love that awful pickup line say in response?”
One corner of her mouth turning up further. “They ask a question.”
“What question?”
She waggled her brows. “Your place or mine?”
Damn. She was fucking funny. And beautiful.
And adorable in her scrubs and white coat, the glittery badge holder Maggie had bought for her clipped to the pocket. A train sticker adorned the back of her stethoscope, clearly courtesy of Cole. He saw the pen his dad had given them all for Christmas, one of the dorky stocking stuffers he gave them every year. Last year’s collection of random shit Connor usually just threw straight into the trash had been that pen, a solar calculator, and a utility tool. Meanwhile, Raven had kept the pen, put it somewhere she would use it most every day.
And seriously.
This woman had spent years thinking that she didn’t fit with the women who were her friends—and yeah, they were good women, mostly because he wouldn’t expect his brothers to choose anyone else to love, to say nothing of the people they all picked to fold into their family. But Raven had spent a long time thinking she wasn’t worthy, thinking she had nothing to give…and she didn’t get that by accepting their care, by doing things like working at Frankie’s place and taking a knitting class and building sandcastles, she was doing the same thing.
She didn’t get that.
Or hadn’t, he supposed.
Because ever since she’d left, since she’d had that time with Auntie Pat, since she’d come back and done that pondering she’d mentioned, he could see the change.
She was getting it.
And now let him just decide what was in her mind, what she was thinking.
Grinning, knowing he was a dumbass, he reached out and tugged at her ponytail.
Not touching—or not really touching. See HR? He was a good boy.
“Why do I have the urge to punish you?” she asked.
“Hmm?” Her hair was like silk. He wanted it trailing over his naked skin again.
A tap to his lips. “You look mischievous.”
“Well,” he said, “now I’m thinking of how to punish you, sweetheart. So thanks for that.”
She smirked.
“Previously,” he went on. “I was thinking about how respectful we were being with our not touching and being deferential to HR’s requests.”
A brow lifted. “Except for when you touched me?”
“That was just your hair.” He smirked. “You touched my lips, so it’s your fault.”
She tilted her head to the side, that silky hair of hers brushing her shoulders. “That’s what you’re going with?”
He shrugged. “Yup.”
“And how do you think HR would respond to that?”
He inched closer. “They’d probably say it was better than me kissing you in the middle of the floor.”
She sucked in a breath, eyes going warm. “No arguing that.”
“So”—he gave into the urge and crept even closer, just one step, just so he could smell her shampoo, could see the unusual flecks of amber in her eyes—“are we going back to your place or mine?”
Laughter in those eyes. Then in the air. “My beautiful girl,” he murmured.
Her laughter cut off and then she was reaching out, squeezing his hand. “I’m so glad I got my shit together.”
“Me too.” He tugged her ponytail again. “Mostly because we both got to see how beautiful you are inside.”
Now her breath caught again, was accompanied by eyes that went damp. “Thank you.”
“For what, sweetheart?”
“For a multitude of things,” she whispered. “Saving my life, and taking care of me after, even though I was a total bitch.”
“Raven—”
“And for accepting my apology,” she added. “And listening to my explanation for why I’d acted like a psycho bitch. Giving me a chance and the space to figure out me and helping along the way. And most especially when I was panicked about napkins.”
“Sweetheart.”
“And for taking the time to understand, even though you really shouldn’t have. Being kind and respectful when I wasn’t. Building my confidence when I didn’t deserve it.”
“Baby.”
“Oh. And the orgasms. And the puffed rice mix you stopped by Frankie’s to pick up for me when I mentioned I was out. And worrying about me late at night. Collecting cardboard. Talking to HR with me even though we’ve barely begun, and it was probably way too early and overkill and—”
“Baby.”
“And,” she said softly, “for accepting me. Joking with me. Smiling at me.” Her hand found his, squeezed lightly. “But most of all, for just being you.”
“Fuck, Raven,” he snapped.
She blinked. “What?”
He bent so their faces were close together. “I can’t kiss you in the middle of the department, baby.”
Wide eyes. Then an innocent look. “How about a supply closet?”
Laughter and the need to take her up on that not-so-innocent question warred in his belly. He straightening so he didn’t do just that. “You’re trouble,” he grumbled.
Her smile filled a hole in his soul, one he hadn’t even known existed. “Yup.” Her lips popped. “I know.”
Proud of all that trouble.
Instead of worrying, she was causing it.
Yeah.
They were making progress, were making big progress.
“How about I buy you lunch in the cafeteria?”
He grinned. “I’m not a cheap date.”
“Lucky for me”—she waggled her brows again, goofy grin on her face as she extracted her cell from her pocket—“Mama’s got Apple Pay.”
He whistled.
“I know,” she joked. “So, you want grilled cheese or chicken salad?”
Fuck, she was funny.
“You know that the grilled cheese is the best item on the menu.”
“I know”—she leaned closer like she was imparting state secrets—“and tell you what, I’ll even let you get a side.”
“Sweet potato fries?”
She winced. “Damn. Big spender.”
“Okay, no fries,” he murmured, tapping his finger to his bottom lip. “Chips?”
A nod.
“And soup of the day?”
She clicked her tongue, sighed. “I suppose if I nix the sweet potato fries, you have to have the soup.” A glare up at him. “But absolutely not any crackers.”
His lips twitched. “That’s a step too far?”
“Definitely.”
They started walking, still bantering as they pushed through the double doors, as they walked down the hall to the cafeteria.
But before they made it up to the counter to place their orders, he snagged her hand, drew her back against him. “You know that there is absolutely no way that I’m letting you pay for my lunch, right sweetheart?”
Her eyes on his, studying him closely.
He expected a battle. Some snark.
Instead, she shrugged.
Victory was his—
“Then I’ll just buy dinner.”
What? No. That wasn’t—
“Rave—”
But she turned away, and the man behind the counter approached to take their order, so he didn’t get to continue the argument.
“Can I please have the grilled cheese with the soup of the day?” A glance over her shoulder, mischief in her eyes as the man began to write her order on the pad.
Connor opened his mouth.
But she turned away again.
“And an order of sweet potato fries, please.”
Twenty-Three
Raven
It became their thing.
Or at least, it was their thing a couple of days a week—Connor buying them lunch, Raven paying for dinner.
This was mostly because Connor cooked the rest of the evenings, or they went out to eat, or they bummed a meal off one of the cooks in the family.
Plus, Sunday Dinner at the Jacksons was always a thing—a thing Raven didn’t miss, that was.
Not when it was a delicious, stick to her ribs, fill her belly to slightly-more-than-pleasantly-full meal. She always contributed—a dessert from the bakery, a bottle of wine, or now, one of Connor’s specialties, Anything Brownies. Since they were dating. Since they were spending all of their free time together.
Since they were…well, together.
Now she got the perk of a joint contribution to family dinners.
Because that was another great thing about Sunday Dinner—she got to spend time with her family, the one she’d made, the one that loved and appreciated her.
And she got brownies.
Something Raven had never allowed herself to taste before because…well, they were Connor’s and she’d been in a fucked-up place and hadn’t thought she’d deserved them and—
She repeated, she’d been in a fucked-up place.
Because, seriously, she’d been missing out.
The first time he’d made them at her place, she’d eaten nearly the entire pan (and had been so freaking sick afterward), but even with her overindulgence, they’d still become a new favorite.
Plus, Anything Brownies were easy to make, even with her limited skills in the kitchen. Mostly because they consisted of boxed brownie mix with pretty much anything from the pantry folded in.
Peanut butter? Yup.
