Excerpt of Falling for You by Becky Wade

Willow could feel Corbin behind her as he followed her down
the inn’s central hall to the kitchen. Once they reached
the space, she steeled herself and faced him. An audience
of modern appliances, granite countertops, and the scent of
allspice surrounded them. The two yards or so of hardwood
floor separating her position from his may as well have
been a continent.

On their final night together before she’d left for
assignment in Morocco, and then Germany, she’d brought Thai
food to his house. The weather had been gorgeous, and
they’d eaten and kissed and kissed and eaten in his
backyard under the stars. He’d whispered velvet words into
her ears, and she’d been filled with ecstatic intuition
that he was the one. Her one.

Prior to him and after him, she’d dated guys for longer
periods of time. But none of her other relationships had
scarred her the way that her relationship with Corbin had
because the only man she’d ever been wildly, stupidly,
disastrously in love with—was him.

“Thank you for seeing Charlotte,” he said.

She nodded stiffly and crossed her arms.

He assessed her as if they were opponents at chess. Coolly.
Competitively.

She’d once pressed her lips to the small scar that faintly
marked the skin below his bottom lip on the left side.
She’d once touched her index finger to his slightly crooked
incisor tooth on the right side and told him how his
almost-but-not-quite perfect smile made her swoon. She’d
once inhaled the piney scent of his soap when wrapped in
his arms.

“John and Nora are happy together,” he said.

“They are.”

“Since we keep running into each other because of them, do
you think we should find a way to get along for their
sake?”

“You asked for a word with me because you’re wondering if
we can get along for John and Nora’s sake?”

“That, and to apologize.”

Was he actually going to say he was sorry? He was more than
welcome to grovel—

“I’m sure it’s been hard for you to get over me.” Cold
humor glinted in his eyes. “I’m sorry you’ve had to
suffer.”

Anger shot heat through her bloodstream. “It hasn’t been
hard to get over you. And we didn’t run into each other
this afternoon. You asked me for a favor—”

“—on behalf of Charlotte.”

“Which I foolishly granted. Because I let you bring her by,
I’ve had to disappoint a very sweet girl. And now I find
myself faced with you and your—your. . . .” She couldn’t
find a word dire enough. “Nonsense.”

He cocked his head. “Is that a no to getting along with
me?”

“I’m waiting for you to go back to Texas so that we’ll both
be spared the effort of getting along.”

“I’m not going back to Texas.”

Everything inside her went still. “What do you mean? You
live in Texas.”

“I don’t have to live in Texas,” he said. “I have four
houses in different states, including the one I bought in
Shore Pine a couple of months ago.”

He’d purchased a house in her niche of Washington? No! The
Great Bend region of the Hood Canal wasn’t big enough for
both of them. “Why did you buy a house in Shore Pine?”

He shrugged a muscular shoulder. “I have my reasons.”

“Name one.”

“The house needs a lot of work, and I need work to do. I’m
renovating it.”

Willow scowled at him as her dearly held hope that he’d
soon leave toppled like a California freeway during an
earthquake.

He studied her. “Four years have passed, and you still hate
me,” he said.

“I don’t care enough about you to hate you.”

“That’s what your voice and your body language are saying.
But your eyes are telling a different story.”

She’d forgotten until now that he’d often told her—and many
times proven—that he could read her feelings in her eyes.
While he may have had that ability once, he didn’t know her
anymore. “Our relationship was a short-lived mistake,” she
said. “Ancient history. I don’t hate you, but I’ll always
dislike you and distrust you because of the way things
ended things between us.”

“I admitted to you at the time that I screwed up and asked
you to forgive me. You wouldn’t.”

“I couldn’t.”

“So, technically, you were the one who ended our
relationship.”

“After you did what you did.”

“You weren’t exactly blameless.”

She dropped her arms and gaped at him, astonished at his
nerve.

“Derek Oliver,” he said, by way of explanation.

She blanched.

“My point is that we both did things we shouldn’t have,” he
said.

“Yes, but ninety-five percent of those things were things
you did.”

“Seventy-five percent,” he counter-offered.

“Concussions have ruined your memory if you think you
deserve just seventy-five percent of the blame.”

“My memory of what happened between us is very, very clear.
Make me an offer.”

“You deserve at least ninety percent of the blame,” she
said.

“Eighty percent.”

“Eight-five percent. That’s my final offer.”

“Fine. I’ll take eighty-five percent of the blame.” He took
a step toward her. She could see banked anger in his dark
eyes. He was goading her and enjoying it. “For the record,
I dislike and distrust you, too.”

She stepped abruptly back. “I feel the need to lay down
some ground rules.”

He gave her a grin underpinned with bitterness. “You always
did love rules.”She was a rule follower, through and
through.

“Don’t ask me for any more favors, Corbin. I don’t owe you
anything.”

“According to you.”

“Don’t ask to speak to me in private again. There’s no
reason for us to be in a room alone together.”

“I can think of a couple reasons—”

“Don’t call me. Don’t text me.”

“Can I mail you a letter?”

“No.”

“Can I toilet paper your house?”

“No. And that’s another thing. Don’t tease me. I realize
that you think you’re hilarious. But many of us don’t share
that opinion.”

“Many of us? I dare you to come up with one other person
who doesn’t find me hilarious.”

“If we do run into each other in the future because of John
and Nora,” she continued, “don’t seek me out.”

“Can I communicate with you from across the room using sign
language?”

“You may not. And last but not least, do not flirt with
me.”

“Flirting is like breathing for me, Willow.”

“Good. Then maybe when you stop, you’ll suffocate.”

Quiet reigned over the kitchen for the space of a few
seconds. Then he threw back his head and laughed.

Willow frowned.

He met her eyes. “Huh,” he finally said.

“Huh what?”

“Am I so dangerous that we need ground rules between us?”

“Yes,” she answered emphatically. “You and the Ebola
virus.” She checked her watch. “Well! Look at the time.” At
her mom’s desk, she scribbled her email address onto a
piece of paper. Then she hurried in the direction of the
den, eager to usher out the girl with the mysterious tale
of a vanished relative and the man she’d long been
desperate to forget.