Page 67 of Falling

I did it for you, I didn’t say. I love you.

“Besides, who wouldn’t want to be seen with Otter Bay’s most eligible sexy older man?” Miles asked, tugging on my hand. “Now come on. I wanna show you off.”

“Shouldn’t I be showing you off?” I asked, following obediently. “You’re the pretty one.”

“Oh, so you do think I’m pretty?” Miles teased, grinning at me so the corners of his eyes crinkled.

I couldn’t have missed the affection there, even if I tried. He really did like me.

“I think you’re beautiful,” I said, flipping his hand over and raising it to my lips to kiss the knuckles.

“And I think you’re devastatingly handsome,” Miles said. “And I can’t wait to have you all to myself.”

23

MILES

“Last one here,” Booker said as he turned away from closing the door behind Seth, who’d told him he’d already arranged for a professional to clean up tomorrow and warned Booker not to start tonight.

“What’s that look for?” I asked. It wasn’t a bad look, but there was something about it. Distant, but not cold. The look of someone remembering a good day.

“Just thinking of something Seth said a while back,” Booker said, closing the distance between us and indulging me when I tugged him closer for a kiss, letting both hands fall on my hips as he teased the seam of my mouth with his tongue. He pulled back after a heartbeat, waited until I made a sad sound, and then laughed as he kissed me again.

“You still have a gift to open,” I murmured against his lips.

“Now?” Booker asked.

“Now,” I said, completely failing to hide a smile.

I’d expected to be nervous when we got to this part, but I wasn’t. The thought of Booker opening that bag filled me with nothing but excitement.

It took a gentle nudge to get him to go behind the bar and grab the bag. He slit the tape with his pocket knife, put it away carefully, and then, finally, peeked inside.

Then looked up at me.

Then looked into the bag again.

“There’s a note,” I said, nodding to it. “Since you look confused.”

I licked my lips as he extracted the note from the bag, the first twinge of nervousness getting to me. Not nervousness for myself—I was so sure I wanted this and I was so sure I wanted it to be with Booker—but that he might not want...

“Happy Birthday Book,” he read aloud, and then looked up at me again, smiling. “I love when you call me Book,” he said softly.

“Will you read on and put me out of my misery?” I asked.

Booker turned back to the note obligingly. “I know you’ll wonder if I really want to do this or if I’m only saying so because we’ve been celebrating and maybe I’ve had a drink or two but I made this decision days ago. It’s okay. I’ve been fantasizing about how much I wanted⁠—”

He paused there, clearing his throat. My heart stopped beating until he continued.

“—how much I wanted you to fuck me,” he read on. “This is just my awkward way of asking.”

I bit my lip as he looked at me again, so hopeful my chest hurt.

I did want it. I wanted Booker. I wanted everything and now that I was sure of all that I didn’t want to wait anymore.

“You don’t⁠—”

“I want to,” I interrupted. “Fantasizing, Book. I’ve been fantasizing about it. I’ve never done that before in my life.”