When We Fall (Take the Fall, #2)(67)

“At least Jake is getting some action.”

I flip off Hayden, then head outside. They’re not manwhores, or even indiscriminate about who they sleep with. They’re good guys who happen to be single but not ready to settle down. However, neither of them know what’s going on in my head. Not even Dwight.

They weren’t there when I came on-scene. They didn’t see her poor body or the way she clung to me and no one else when attempts were made to get her in the ambulance. They hadn’t held her hand on the ride over. They hadn’t stood to one side while she was inspected and photographed for evidence against the man who had beaten her.

But I was, and until I get her out of my head, no other woman will do.

—

It’s late when I get home, but since it’s August, the sun hasn’t completely set yet. Orange and yellow lights filter down through the huge leaves in the front yard. The small parking lot to the right of the building is filled for once. All six spots taken.

Looks like someone rented the last apartment available.

My apartment is one of six in a huge mansion from the early 1900s that was recently converted. It’s quiet.

Just as I step onto the brick path that leads to the side entrance, I get a glimpse of a woman with light brown hair. For no logical reason, my heart speeds up. She’s attempting to balance moving boxes while unlocking the door.

I jog over to her, while calling out, “Hey there. Need some help?”

“Gosh, yes,” she says with a laugh that makes my groin tight. Now this is an improvement. I can’t see her face, but if that laugh is enough to make me stand up and take notice…my imagination runs wild.

I help with the boxes and she thanks me by—

“Hi, I’m Eva,” she says, turning to face me. Her body freezes but 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.”

She scrunches her brow. “You do? I’m sorry that I can’t say the same.”

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

Another peal of laughter that has me rock hard in two-seconds flat 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.

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

She blinks up at me, her mouth twitching at the corners, but she doesn’t laugh again. I know it’s because she see 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 say. 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 at it stretches. “Lived here long?” I ask, trying to keep my thoughts aboveboard, or above her plump ass, anyway.

“Nope.”

And 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 light 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 their right mind would ever try to harm someone so much smaller than themselves?

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

“You’re the 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 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.”

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.

“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.