Fall Guy (A Youngblood Book) by Reinhardt, Liz (knowledgeable books to read TXT) 📕

grandfather's, and Granddaddy called him a 'go-getter,' which is basically the very highest praise he ever gives anyone. So this guy must be something special.

But he’s not Winchester Youngblood.

I hang my silky robe on the hook in my closet and take out the simple green dress that I've always liked but never loved. Maybe that's just because I've never given it a fair chance. I dab a last coat of lipgloss on and head down the stairs in dangerously high pink heels with little bows at the toe, perfectly adorable, and a good way to lift my spirits every time Winchester invades my thoughts. All I have to do to buoy my mood a tiny bit is stare down at my fabulously outfitted feet.

The guy, Callum Long, stands with a bouquet of mixed flowers, maybe more gorgeous than any Winch got for me. I take them from his hands and bury my nose in the petals, but I don't inhale the sweet aroma, because there's a line between playing along to mend my tattered heart and taking a sledgehammer to the last brittle pieces, and I'm not strong enough to jump that line yet.

"You kids look smart together," Granddaddy beams, hooking his thumbs through his red suspenders.

I wish, right then, that he'd had the opportunity to meet Winchester. I wish he'd been able to take him aside and smoke a cigar on the porch with him. Maybe he would have opened up about his story, how he left his family and struck out on his own. Maybe Winch would have told Granddaddy his problems. If anyone can fix any problem, it’s my grandfather.

But I was so wrapped up in just figuring Winch and me out while we were together, I never considered having him over.

Now it's nothing but the dust of old regrets, and I need to shake it off.

I kiss Granddaddy on the cheek and let him pull me into a long, gruff hug.

"You take care of her, Callum," my grandfather threatens with a wag of his finger.

Callum’s voice is rich and low, with just that bit of a country-boy drawl that always uncoils something deep and sweet in me.

"Of course, sir. I won't let out of my sight for a single second. Were you ready, Evan?"

His light eyes flick up and down me quickly, clearly pleased with what he sees.

There's a kick of delicious warmth in my stomach, exactly what I would have expected from having a good-looking, tall, sweet-eyed boy looking me over.

It's just not anything close to the inferno I feel when Winch looks me over.

"Let me say goodbye to my grandmother," I stall, but Gramma is bustling in to take my bouquet and arrange it in a vase, just like she did with Winch's, but without all the drama.

This time she's all smiles and kisses and pats on my backside, telling us to be good and have fun. She looks happy. She looks relieved.

“Your granddaddy and I will be out late, but I won’t be surprised if you come home after us!” She winks at me.

I wish I felt a sliver of her enthusiasm.

Callum opens the door of his sleek sports car for me, and I sit on the leather seat and smile and make inane conversation as we weave into downtown traffic and head to a fancy restaurant I used to go to with Rabin, but it was called something else then. I hated the lambchops. They were overcooked.

And just like that, it's like life has been dimmed, and I'm back to remembering less than delicious meals and less than amazing boyfriends. Small talk is hard to keep up, and everything feels distracted and distracting.

Callum orders a bottle of wine for us, and this place is swank enough that they don’t card me or seem to care if I drink. The sweet drizzle of the bubbly white is crisp and dulling at the same time. He’s talking about his engineering classes, and, to be fair, it's not his fault he's being so boring. I've hardly done more than sip my wine, smile, and nod at him.

I can just barely process the taste of the food when it finally comes, and, though I force myself to have dessert and walk downtown a little with Callum, I can't will myself to hang around for a drive to a party.

"I'd love to. I would." I act as best I can, all wide eyes and emphatic nods. "But I'm just really tired. I had community service this morning and it was a long day. You understand, right?"

I bat my lashes and his sweet smile is a relief. He's not going to push the issue.

"Of course, darlin.' St. John's had crazy community service requirements when I was a senior, too. On the plus side, it looks amazing on college applications."

His smile is so sympathetic, I don't bother to correct him and let him know that this particular community service will do nothing at all to attract colleges toward me.

The drive home is quiet, and I give Callum a chaste kiss at my front door, hoping it will communicate nothing more than my tepid appreciation for this night. This date. This first step that is, I hope, not going to be reflective of how bland and lukewarm life devoid of Winch will be.

I watch him walk back to his car, and I turn into the empty house. Gramma and Granddaddy have never set a solid curfew before, but tonight all time limits were waived because, I think, they hoped I'd fling myself back into a social life and some semblance of happiness.

Even though the dinner felt like it lasted for hours, it's only been a scant two. Saturday night looms long and empty. I walk upstairs and fall back on my bed, not bothering to change out of my dress.

I decided, after looking in the plush bathroom's gilded mirror at the restaurant, that I really don't love the dress. Or maybe I was just caught up in the theme of