After We Fall (Take the Fall, #3)(3)

“Nice to meet you. I’m Evangeline,” she says, turning to face me. Her body freezes—only for a moment or two—but it’s long enough for me to notice.

Besides, I’d recognize those gorgeous blue-green eyes anywhere. “I know who you are.”

“You do?” She scrunches her brow as if she’s deep in thought. “I’m sorry that I can’t say the same.”

“Maybe I’m mistaken.” Maybe the pope will get married tomorrow. Taking the boxes, I wait for her to open the door.

Another peal of laughter has me rock hard in two seconds flat after it leaves her mouth. “I have one of those faces. Last week, at the grocery store, someone mistook me for Scarlett Johansson. She’s filming a movie here, so…”

The only thing the woman in front of me has in common with Scarlett Johansson is the fact that they are both female. I don’t know why she’s pretending like she doesn’t know me, but what I do know…She’s a damn liar.

The woman standing in front of me is Evangeline Ambrose, the same woman I haven’t been able to get out of my head for months. The same woman I escorted to a battered women’s shelter. The same woman I had no business asking after.

“What a coincidence, someone mistook me for her, too,” I reply drily.

She blinks up at me, her mouth twitching at the corners, but she doesn’t laugh again. I know it’s because she sees the serious look on my face.

“You’re not that pretty,” she says, giving me a whole other side to her. One I like.

“Most women think I am,” I disagree. What the hell has just left my mouth?

Walking in front of me, she leads the way to her apartment. “Good for them. You, too.”

As she begins to ascend the stairs, my gaze goes right to her ass. The faded denim cups her just right as it stretches with her movements.

“Lived here long?” I ask, trying to keep my thoughts aboveboard, or above her plump ass anyway.

“Nope.”

That’s all she says until we arrive at her apartment. If I weren’t carrying these boxes, I have no doubt she would have run from me by now.

She stops in front of a blue door and unlocks it, before turning to me. “I can take it from here.”

“I’m happy to help you. It’s in my job description.”

Her lips part, and the urge to kiss her rides me hard. She’s so damn pretty. So delicate. What man in his right mind would ever try to harm someone so much smaller than himself?

A man like your father, that’s who, I remind myself.

“You’re the onsite manager?” she asks with false cheerfulness. “How nice.”

I can’t believe she’s going to continue this lie. I know it’s a lie. She knows it’s a lie, and she has to know that I know it’s a lie.

“Nope,” I reply, hoping that my answer grates on her nerves as much as hers did mine. “Not the manager.”

“Okay, then.” She nods, opening the door and taking the boxes from me. “Thanks again. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“Count on it,” I say with a grin, and walk to the door directly across from hers.

“Dream on,” she mutters loud enough for me to hear.

Oh baby, I don’t have to dream.

“What are you doing?” she practically screeches.

“Going home.” Glancing over my shoulder at her, I unlock my door. “That’s what I do each day after work.”

“But you can’t.”

Turning around, I cross my arms over my chest. “But I can.”

“No.” She shakes her head, her chin becoming mutinous. “I refuse to—” She smashes her lips together and whirls around, slamming the door behind her.

“Nice talking to you,” I say, loud enough to reach her ears. I know she won’t answer me, but I can’t help but push her. I want her to open the door and acknowledge me. To tell the truth, actually, and admit she knows exactly who I am.

That I’m the guy who helped save her life.





Chapter 2


Evangeline


My heart pounds so hard against my chest in fear that I want to scream. How ironic to move into the very building where my rescuer lives. When I chose Rose Haven, it was because the mansion–turned–apartment building sounded like an escape. A place to rest, away from my family and my husband’s family.

My soon-to-be ex-husband’s family.

Only six more months to go and I’ll be free of him. He won’t contest the divorce due to the plea deal worked out with his lawyer, and the don’t-talk-to-the-press money his family deposited into my checking account is enough for me to live on for years. I’m not exactly proud that I took their money, but Penn owed me since he had taken every dime of mine. Spent every penny of my hard-earned money on whores, drinking, and gambling…big trucks and fast boats, just like in a country music song.

Fitting, I guess, since that’s how I made a living before we married—making videos of me singing covers and original songs, and then posting them on Facebook.

Picking myself off the floor, I move to the living room and lie down on the sofa. Staring up at the distressed tin squares that make up the ceiling, I force myself to breathe in and out until my racing pulse slows to a walk.