The Harder You Fall. Gena Showalter

Jessie Kay scowled. “Do I really look like his sister? I clearly come from grade-A stock while his ancestors made a few poor choices along the way.”

      Singular creature. “Yes,” he told the waitress. “I’ll take the s’mores trifle, but make sure you add extra marshmallows.”

      * * *

      THE NEXT WEEK flew by, with only a few necessary adjustments to West’s schedule. Adjustments he made only because he’d found his next relationship. Monica Gentry, owner of Bodies by Monica.

      She’d shown up at WOH Industries on Wednesday, hoping to hire him to film her first workout video, not realizing he only created computer programs, video games and animated commercials. They’d had lunch instead.

      He’d found something familiar about her, but when he’d looked her up later that night, he’d realized he knew nothing about her. What he learned: A handful of her former employees hated her. They’d posted scathing reviews about her leadership style, calling her intense and neurotic. But who wasn’t neurotic?

      And really, she’d had to be fierce to build her gym franchise from the ground up. A feat he admired. He and Beck had had to claw their way over, under and through wall after wall of rejection; but all the while West had continued creating games and programs and Beck had continued making calls and pitches, going door-to-door until Dane Michaelson of MG&E paid millions for exclusive rights to his flow software, a program tracking oil and natural gas from the ground to its buyer. Not only had the deal put WOH Industries in the crosshairs of other business, but Dane had become a close friend, even introducing West to Strawberry Valley, his hometown, which had led West to introduce Jase to the town when the desire to move struck.

      West glanced at the clock on his nightstand. 7:59 a.m. Beck’s wedding was set to take place in three hours, one minute.

      He stood, made his bed, then showered for ten minutes, towel-dried for two, shaved for another ten and when he dressed, he ditched the usual Saturday-morning soccer gear in favor of a tux.

      He’d never thought this day would come and once upon a time he would have bet the bulk of his fortune Beck would remain forever single. Enter Harlow. The black-haired beauty had obsessed the guy from moment one, and in the end, he’d stepped up to be a better man for her.

      Would I have stepped up for Tessa if she’d survived the crash?

      The real question: Would he have gotten clean?

      During her depressions, nothing he’d said or done had helped her. Guilt and frustration had eaten at him and more often than not, he’d ended up doubling his hit. And his hangover. And his bad mood. His bad mood had only fed hers. A poisoned cycle.

      He glanced at the clock. 8:40 a.m. Right on time. Yesterday he’d called and asked Monica to accompany him to the wedding. She was an attractive woman in her late twenties, and she fit his usual criteria. Uncomplicated, eager, and he could take her or leave her. He didn’t crave her more than air to breathe and when they were apart, he didn’t wish they were together.

      He stalked into the kitchen where Beck stood at the stove, flipping pancakes with a surprisingly steady hand, the features many had referred to as “half angelic, half demonic” utterly relaxed and—joyous?

      West took a seat at the table. “This is weird. You should be freaking out, demanding I help you sneak out of the country. Instead you’re making breakfast.”

      His friend smiled, a peek at the angelic side. “I’m giving Harlow my name, legally binding her to my side. Why would I freak out?”

      West could think of several reasons. “Your life will be forever altered. You’ll be set on a new, uncharted path and your happiness will be inexorably tied to someone else’s.”

      “I mentioned Harlow will be legally bound to me, right? My life will be forever altered in the best way. I’ll traverse that new, uncharted path with her rather than alone, and my happiness is already inexorably tied to her. She’s my other half.”

      He envied his friend. He couldn’t imagine being so optimistic. Not by marrying Tessa. Not by sleeping with Monica. Not even by sleeping with Jessie Kay.

      Something low in his gut curled with heat. Maybe he’d feel a little optimism if he had the blonde in his bed.

      He’d purposely avoided her all week, hadn’t so much as ordered a sandwich. Anytime she’d come up in conversation, he’d left the room. If he’d thought about her, he’d quickly distracted himself with work or exercise.

      He’d worked and exercised a lot.

      To his consternation, she’d remained at the forefront of his mind, a fascination he couldn’t shake. He’d even considered detouring from his usual MO—a feat in and of itself—and sleeping with her once, just once. No harm, no foul.

      Problem was “just once” had never worked out for him in the past.

      Beck slid a stack of pancakes in front of him, saying, “You’ve been spacing out a lot lately, thinking about Jessie Kay.” A statement rather than a question. “Don’t try to deny it. I recognize the signs. A glaze of hunger in the eyes. Tightness around the mouth. A muscle jumping in the jaw. Jase had the same look when he met Brook Lynn. I’m made of stronger stuff, of course, and managed to keep my cool with Harlow.”

      “No, I—”

      “Even now your hands are clenched.”

      West studied his hands—yep, they were clenched. He eased the pressure on his fingers, saying, “Don’t kid yourself. You were practically foaming at the mouth with Harlow.”

      “You do realize you’re describing yourself right now, yes?” Beck didn’t give him time to reply. “Why are you resisting your smart-ass Southern belle anyway? If you think Jase and I care—”

      “I don’t.” He leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms. “Would you resent me if you found out I’d slept with Harlow before you fell for her?”

      A light sprang to life in Beck’s eyes. “Ah. I get it. You’re afraid you’ll get possessive of your girl and pissy with your bros.”

      West adjusted his cuff links, gave a clipped nod.

      “As Jessie Kay would say, you’re letting the horse out of the stall before the race has even started.” Beck tossed back a bite of pancake. “Let’s say you spent years with Harlow, banging the hell out of her. Today, this moment, it wouldn’t affect how I feel about either of you. You were her past, and I’ll always be her future. I love you both. I need you both. I’ll take you both however I can get you.”

      An ache razed his chest. Were things really that simple?

      “What’s doing?” Jase padded into the kitchen. His dark hair stuck out in spikes. He was shirtless, wearing only a pair of faded sweatpants.

      “West is deciding whether or not to make a move on Jessie Kay,” Beck replied.

      “I change my vote to no. Unless you’re going to give her a real shot.” Jase scratched his chest. “She’s better for you than she ever was for us, but there will be serious aftermath when you dump her.”

      When, not if. The end was never in question.

      West pursed his lips. “You handled the aftermath of your one-night stand just fine.”

      “And who says she’d want more than two months with him, anyway?” Beck asked. “Who says she won’t dump him?”

      Yes. Who said.

      He scrubbed a hand down his face. “If I did date her, and I did dump her, and there was aftermath, your girls would hate me.”

      Jase poured a glass of orange juice. “Agreed. Brook Lynn can forgive anything—except an insult to her sister.”

      “But the girls love us and wouldn’t try to block you from our lives,” Beck said.

      “Is