The Harder You Fall

The Harder You Fall by Gena Showalter Page A

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Authors: Gena Showalter
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“I don’t know if you’ve heard the rumors, but my heart is made of stone. Of course I’m not concerned.”
    She remembered the look he’d given her during the soccer game and decided his heart wasn’t made of stone but of fire.
    Not that she’d share her observation. But maybe she could get him to admit it.
    â€œYou were right. About my childhood. It was absolutely tragic.” Offering an exaggerated frown, she traced a fingertip down both of her checks to mimic tears. “You should feel sorry for me and be super nice to me from now on.”
    He suddenly looked as if he was fighting a smile. “You know, upon further reflection, I’m certain my childhood was far worse than yours. You should feel sorry for me and do everything I tell you.”
    Well, well. “Color me intrigued. What’s the first thing you’d tell me to do?”
    He glanced at her, proving her theory: he burned .
    â€œI’d want you—”
    She shivered and—
    â€œâ€”to tell me more about your childhood.”
    Withered in her seat. “What do you want to know?”
    â€œWhat did you want to be when you grew up?”
    Polite interest? Or was he actually curious? “You’ll laugh.”
    â€œMaybe. Probably.”
    Had to respect his honesty. “Mostly I wanted to be that crazy cat lady .”
    He choked on a breath. “An old woman who wears rollers and a robe, and has a hundred cats prowling through her house?”
    â€œExactly. I wanted a cat but Dad was allergic. Once a month Mom drove me to the shelter where I got to pet a roomful of strays. The employees used to joke about that crazy cat lady who came in every few weeks to adopt a new one. I was so jealous of her.”
    â€œThat is...” He frowned. “Ridiculously adorable.”
    He sounded surprised. “What about you? What did you want to be?”
    â€œSorry, but we’re not done with you. When you realized crazy cat lady wouldn’t pay the bills, what’d you want to do?”
    â€œBecome a high school teacher.”
    â€œSubject?”
    â€œEnglish.”
    He wiggled his brows. “How do you come on to a high school English teacher?”
    Her brow furrowed. “Uh...how?”
    â€œOver? Under? To? Around? Outside?”
    She snickered. “You preposition her.” Silly man.
    Sexy man.
    â€œNow I have to know your childhood dream,” she said. “Tell me!”
    â€œI had big plans, was going to be the youngest, hottest cop on the force.”
    A puzzle piece clicked into place. “Had fantasies about taking down bad guys, did you?” Made sense, considering some of the hellholes he must have lived in.
    â€œSomething like that.”
    â€œNow you create video games that allow you to defeat every kind of bad guy imaginable, so in a way, you’ve achieved your dream.”
    â€œThat’s true.” A sizzling pause. “You’ve played my games?”
    Caught! “Once or twice,” she admitted. For years she’d fought—and lost—an addiction to “Donkey Kong.” Barrels! The lady! Her dad taught her how to play, their special time together, and, well, winning became an obsession.
    As soon as she’d learned of West’s accomplishments, she’d maybe kinda sorta rushed out to buy his greatest hits. “Alice in Zombieland.” “Lords of the Underworld.” “Angels of the Dark.” “Everlife.” Used, of course, because she couldn’t afford new.
    â€œEvil is always afoot,” she added, “but the good guys always save the day.”
    His frown returned, deepened. “Let’s listen to the radio.” He jacked up the volume.
    Didn’t like her observations? “Giving you the silent treatment won’t be a problem,” she called over the music.
    â€œReally? Because you’re still talking.”
    â€œOh, that wasn’t talking.

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