Fall into love, p.1
Fall Into Love, page 1
FALL INTO LOVE
by
Elizabeth Suit
Copyright © 2024 by Elizabeth Suit
ISBN: 979-8-9897415-0-2
Kindle Edition
All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical event, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published by: BB Books
Editors: Alyssa Nazzaro, A Hundred Proof Services, Rachel Mason, Rachel Mason Edits
Proofreader: Jordan Truex
Cover Designer: Staci Hart, Quirky Bird Covers
Books by Elizabeth Suit
Stella’s Diner
Fall Into Love
Dedication
For those whose love language is sarcasm.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Books by Elizabeth Suit
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
CHAPTER ONE
Allison
Moore Than Words Advertising and Website Design is hopping today. Which means that I, Allison Moore, sole owner and operator am putting the finishing touches on a website update while trying to keep my eyes from crossing. Thankfully, I’ve been catching all the typos today in between the numerous phone calls requiring my attention. I’m about to scream when the phone starts to ring again, but then I see my favorite client’s number come up on the caller ID. Grant was one of my first clients when I went out on my own. We’ve been together so long that now our relationship has moved way past professionalism, and we flirt constantly. It’s fun and light-hearted, and it brightens my day.
“Hey, handsome,” I greet, propping my feet up on my desk. He laughs at my casual greeting.
“Hey, cutie. How are you today?”
“Good. Just finished your updates.”
“Terrific! I have something new for you. I got in the first samples of my protein shake, and we’ll need to add them to the online store with the description.”
“You seriously are telling me this now after I have everything spaced out correctly? I am so charging you extra!”
“I’m sorry, but I wasn’t sure if they were going to work out and didn’t want to hold up the other stuff.”
In my best Dr. Evil voice I respond, “My new hourly rate is one million dollars. I assume the trainer to the stars can afford it?”
“What would I do without your East Coast sass?”
“Be bored?” I quip.
“Probably,” he admits.
“Or have more time for your models?”
“That hurts. Especially today.” Grant’s voice suddenly falls from light and flirty to low and dejected.
“What? Why? What’s going on? You actually sound serious for a change.”
“Jordan dumped me,” he says.
“No way, I thought you guys were getting pretty serious.”
“Yeah, I wanted her to be the one, but we had different goals and couldn’t make it work. She’s off to Canada to work on some movie.”
“I’m sorry, Grant. I know you really liked her.”
“Thanks. I’ll get over it…eventually.” His tone somber. “Maybe sooner if you’d agree to be my girlfriend,” he says in a more chipper voice.
“First, I refuse to be your rebound. Second, I’m never dating a bodybuilder because I love food too much and couldn’t stand the diet you keep. And three, there’s this teeny tiny issue that you live across the country.”
“I’d move for you.” I laugh because I know he’s only joking. We both love our jobs too much to ever move for love. We’ve discussed this during one of our many late-night conversations that we’ve had as we’ve become long-distance friends.
“Ha, we’ve never even Zoomed, how do you know I’m not a troll with a big wart on my nose?” I ask sarcastically.
“I can tell. You don’t have a troll’s voice. You know, for someone who works on websites, I’m surprised by your lack of social media accounts.” He tosses the sarcasm right back and our conversation continues in lighthearted banter.
“All that my clients need to know is that I can do my job. And look who’s talking. You don’t have your picture up either. I keep telling you, you need to add it so clients don’t think you’re some creeper dude.”
“My celebrities are keeping me busy enough, so no need.”
“Are you ever going to give me your stage name?” I ask.
“No way! When you fall in love with me, I want to know it’s not just for my body.”
“Fine,” I huff. I’ve tried to google him every which way and have found a few bodybuilders with the last name Hudson, but he says he’s only under his stage name. I wonder if I could employ the CIA to figure out what it is? Based on his voice, he seriously has to be hot.
“Hey, listen, I’ve got a client coming in so I gotta go, but I’m going to send you some samples, and I’ll get the info over to you to do the updates.”
“Okay, sounds good.”
“Bye, Allison.”
I love having a client I don’t always have to be professional with. Being my own boss makes my daytime hours a little lonely, and it helps break up the monotony of my day being able to laugh and joke around with someone. Speaking of being professional, after getting off that call, I need to get back to work. So, I dive into the website design for a new law firm.
At the end of my self-imposed workday, I stretch the stiffness away before rising from the desk in my home office. Picking up my phone, I call my bestie to see if she wants to grab some coffee.
“Hey, Morgan.”
“Hey, Hooker. What’s up?” By the greeting, I can tell she’s already left her office.
“Heading for coffee, you going to meet me at Joe’s?” I ask.
“Hell yeah! I’m about to fall over, and I don’t feel like nursing a hangover tomorrow,” she responds.
“Great! I’ll see you there,” I say to her as I am heading out the door.
Joe’s is on the corner between our apartments. The light-blue brick building with a pink canopy featuring a steaming “cup of Joe” is a beacon to the weary at the end of a long day. The scuffed wood floors and gleaming white wood paneling give it a farmhouse vibe. Morgan and I have been friends since high school but lost touch when we went away to different colleges. We reconnected at Joe’s one day and were shocked that we ended up living so close to each other.
The euphoric scents of coffee and baked goods surround me as I walk in the door of the quaint coffee shop. Even with its small size, it’s split into three sections. The back is for the techies desperate for an outlet to complement their high-octane buzz. The living room is where Lululemon moms moan about their kids. And the front section is for people watching. Mini fresh flower bouquets sit on the tables lining the large windows that look out onto the busy street. When our regular barista, Katelyn, sees me walk in, she nods her head in greeting. I hold up two fingers letting her know Morgan will be joining me. While I’m waiting at the pickup counter, Morgan strides in wearing a sleek black suit with a short, but respectable-length skirt. She is stunning with her olive skin, white-blonde hair, and stick-thin figure. A stark contrast to my auburn hair, creamy complexion, and slightly curvier figure.
“So, what’s up?” Morgan asks as we take a seat at our usual table in the corner by the front window. “When you call me to meet at Joe’s, I know you need to talk about something.”
“I talked to Grant again today. He needs more updates. He’s starting to sell some new protein shake.”
“Oh, your cross-country phone crush. I see from your cheesy grin that things are going well with him.” Morgan raises a brow while taking a sip of her mocha latte.
“It’s always good to chat with Grant. Today was hectic, so it was nice to hear his voice.” I grin and take a sip of my caramel creme.
“You think you two will ever meet in person?” she asks.
“I doubt it. I don’t plan on flying to the West Coast anytime soon for someone I’m not dating, and he’s not planning on leaving his lucrative business to come here.” I readjust in my seat and sit back. “Although he did say he’d move here for me. I’m sure he was just flirting. He just broke up with a model for goodness’ sake, and I’m no model.”
“And you j
I roll my eyes. “This is just fun and light with no expectations. It’s nice to have a guy friend to talk to.”
“That’s great but now we need to find you someone local to, ya know, relight the flame. Maybe you’ll find someone this weekend at the pub crawl.” She nudges me with her elbow, an evil sparkle in her eye.
“Maybe. It would be nice,” I sigh wistfully and stare out the window at the street wondering if Mr. Right is passing by as we speak.
“No maybes, we both need to get laid. It’s been like a month for me, and how long for you?”
“A month?” I gasp. “How do you even live? Like, oh my God, are you sure you haven’t shriveled up down there?” I redirect, clutching my chest for dramatic affect.
“Funny. But seriously, we need to find some men. Random hookups are fine, but I’d like more,” she says.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. You, Miss I-never-sleep-with-the-same-guy-twice, want more? You, the one who told me I was getting too serious, too soon with Roger—”
“Roger was a douche. No one should end up with Roger.”
“Fine. So, what’s your plan?” I ask.
“Plan? It’s like you don’t know me at all. I’ll just keep bar-crawling until I find the right one. Speaking of which, did you get the new shirts for Saturday’s crawl?”
“Yeah, I just got them this morning. Nico did a great job this time, and all the words were even spelled correctly.”
“Oh, good, because even in my drunken state it was embarrassing to wear a shirt that said, ‘The Purple Nipple Crew’,” Morgan admits.
I crack up at the memory. We both got a lot of numbers on our shirts that night. I sober and start filling her in on the crawl details. “We have about five bars on the list. I decided to stay on Carroll Street this time to make it easier for everyone.”
“Oh my God, do you remember her? She was hilarious. Dancing around, giving everyone beads when it wasn’t even Mardi Gras,” Morgan says.
“Yes, that’s why I call it Carroll Street in her honor.”
“That’s perfect. I think I’m going to head out. I need to get out of these clothes.” We stand and gather our trash.
“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. Mrs. G is moving out. Her son is moving her to a care facility after she almost broke her hip last month. Any chance you want to move across the hall from me?” I say in a pleading voice. “We’d have so much fun!”
“I don’t think I can get out of my lease for at least a few more months, so it probably won’t work out timing-wise,” she says disappointed.
“Aw, bummer.” I pout. “Okay, I’ll see you Saturday.”
We hug and walk to the door. I’m not paying attention and try to pull the push door when the door gives, I fall forward and smack my nose into an incredibly defined chest which then causes me to flop down, hard, on my butt.
I look up startled. Morgan is at my side trying to help me up when large hands scoop me up from the other side and right me back on my feet.
“Whoa, be careful there.” Big brown eyes stare into my soul as strong arms steady me. He almost glows as if he’s an angel sent to earth to pick me up at this very moment.
“Thank…Your…Eyes…Arms.” Am I making any sense? Stars are swimming above my head right now. I shake my head and groan, touching my face. When I pull my hand away, I see blood. Is my nose actually broken? I hear a soft chuckle and it brings me out of my daze.
“Do you think it’s broken?” The man of my dreams says softly while cradling my face with his hands, checking me over.
I pull back and look to Morgan to help me form coherent words. Because there is pain, gorgeousness, and blood, and I am too stunned to speak.
“Let me get you a napkin, Ally.” Morgan returns to my side and is wiping my face before I can register that she left. “Should we go to the hospital?” she asks.
“I-I don’t think so.” I look between the two of them still in a daze.
“I am so sorry. Please, let me walk you home. Make sure you’re all right.” His face contorts with genuine concern.
“But I don’t know you. I’m not supposed to go home with strangers.” My bottom lip is trembling, and my eyes are watering from the embarrassment of falling. What am I, five?
“I’ll take her home. Thank you for helping,” Morgan offers for me as I nearly trip over my own feet.
“I’m glad I could help. Feel better, Ally.” Big Brown Eyes moves aside and holds the door open for us.
“I’m going to marry that man,” I whisper. Morgan chuckles and helps me back to my apartment.
CHAPTER TWO
Oliver
I’m sitting at the breakfast bar in my modern, barely used kitchen finishing my morning toast when I get a call from my agent. Can’t this man take a day off? It’s Saturday for goodness’ sake. As Frank starts droning on with my latest crime novel release figures, my mind drifts to the girl, Ally, from the coffee shop. She didn’t introduce herself, but I heard her friend say her name as we looked her over. She was so cute with that dazed look on her face. I wanted to walk her home to make sure she was okay since she wasn’t making any sense, but it looked like her friend wanted to take care of her. I didn’t want to come across as a stalker, so I stepped aside. I could kick myself for not getting her number, but it didn’t seem like the right time for introductions. I can’t believe that having practically lived at Joe’s since I moved to the city I haven’t seen her before. Maybe it’s because I usually stay in the back with the rest of the techies typing away on my latest novel.
“Sales are looking great as always,” Frank says.
“Good, let’s keep it that way. It was a long time coming, and I want to stay where I am,” I respond, coming back to the present and focusing on the conversation.
“I like you on top.”
“Frank! I don’t think it’s wise for us to have that type of relationship,” I jest.
“I meant on top of the sales charts,” he corrects.
“I’m glad you cleared that up,” I continue to tease him, knowing my straitlaced agent is now all flustered.
“Now, what’s up next for you?” he says, changing the subject.
“I just wrapped up my current manuscript and sent it to the editor and am mapping out the next one in the series. Since we have a buffer, I’ll probably take a mini break this weekend and read for fun, then get back to it.”
“Great. We can’t get behind.”
“I’m aware. And you know that pressuring me makes my brain seize up and no words enter of any kind.”
“I know, I just like to know where you are on your schedule so I can keep my own on track. Have a good weekend, and I’ll bug you again in a few weeks.”
“Looking forward to it,” I deadpan and disconnect.
Frank is a good agent but I’m also a good client who doesn’t need a lot of handholding. I know my schedule and how many words I have to knock out each day to make it happen.
In an effort to make the most of this weekend, I pull up the schedule for Finnegan’s and notice that my favorite acoustic guitar duo will be playing tonight. Since I have plenty of time before then, I decide to take a quick trip out of the city to visit my mom.
*
“Mom?” I call as I enter my childhood home without knocking. The smell of home-cooked meals and Mom’s gardenia perfume has settled into its bones and brings back memories of my happy childhood as I inhale the scents. All the oversized, bulky furniture, complete with Dad’s blue Lazy-Boy chair, are still in the same position. Vacuum marks on the plush tan carpet confirm that Mom still does her nightly ritual of vacuuming before bed to keep everything clean and tidy.
“Oliver? Is that you?” I hear from some far corner of the house.
“Where are you?” I ask.
“Basement! Come down and see this.” I set the lilies I brought her on the kitchen counter and walk down the steps.
“What are you doing down here?” I ask as I step off the last step into the finished club basement.
“I’m putting a shower in the bathroom.”
“What? By yourself?” I ask aghast as I meet her at the bathroom door.
“Sure, why not?”
