Can't Help Falling In Love (A Calamity Falls Novel Book 5) Read online

When Becks showed no signs of waking, she quickly dressed and grabbed her purse, the light-up Vegas sign sticking out of it.

  Do something different. Shake things up.

  She smiled. That’s exactly what I’m going to do. She’d take this baby home, keep it front and center, so that every time she got too mired down in work, routine, the grind, she’d remember to take an adventure.

  She took one more look around the room to make sure she hadn’t left anything.

  A bright spot of red peeked out of his jeans pocket.

  My thong.

  She smiled. And that’s his souvenir.

  Chapter One

  Today

  “You get back to her yet?” his dad asked.

  Phone pressed to his ear, Beckett O’Neill stood on the deck of his overwater bungalow. A flower-scented breeze fluttered across the turquoise water.

  At his dad’s question, a corresponding ripple passed through his body, only it felt like guilt. “Nah. Been busy.”

  “Just to put it out there, I don’t care either way. You don’t want to talk to her, that’s your choice. You’re a grown man. I’m not going to tell you how to deal with your mom.”

  They didn’t talk all that often, so his dad wouldn’t have called unless he had something to say. “But?”

  “But I don’t see why she’d be reaching out if she hadn’t changed.”

  Rustling palm trees and murmuring voices from nearby cottages made a strange contrast to the clash of emotions the conversation stirred up. “Okay. I hear you.”

  “Beckett?” his girlfriend called. “I need a towel.”

  He wandered back inside, smiling when he found her bare-ass naked, dripping wet from a shower.

  She sashayed over and pressed herself against him. “Maybe I’ll use your body to rub myself dry,” she whispered in his ear.

  “It can’t hurt to hear her out,” his dad said.

  When she clutched his ass and did a little shimmy, he gently pushed her away. My dad, he mouthed.

  Pouting, she swiped her see-through cover up off the chair and threw it on, before flouncing on the unmade bed.

  “I don’t see the point.” Beckett stepped back onto the balcony, lowering his voice. “I’ve thought about it a lot over the years, what I’d do if she came back.” In the beginning, after his mom left, he’d imagined all kinds of scenarios.

  Like her pacing around his living room, wringing her hands. I can’t believe I walked out on my own son. What the hell was I thinking? I’m so sorry.

  Or—a favorite—he’d show up at her apartment and ream her out. I lost Ari, too. What kind of mother abandons her own son? I was grieving, and you left.

  After seventeen years and countless possibilities, though, he’d run out of gas. “I just don’t care anymore. There’s nothing she could say that would matter.”

  “Sure, sure,” his dad said. “I get that.”

  His dad had never pressured him to talk to his mom before, so he couldn’t help wondering why now. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  His dad blew out a breath into the receiver. “She’s not dying, if that’s what you’re thinking. Nothing like that. She’s moving again, going through her boxes, and I’d bet it’s bringing up the past.”

  “Wait, you’ve talked to her?” His parents divorced two years after Ari died and eighteen months after his mom had walked out the door. As far as Beckett knew, they hadn’t spoken since.

  “Sure, I have.”

  “How does Marcia feel about that?”

  His dad chuckled. “You’re not seriously suggesting I’d kick my wife aside and go back to the woman who abandoned my son, are you?”

  It helped. When his dad said things like that, it made him feel less alone. “No, of course not. I just don’t think Marcia would like knowing you’re talking to your ex.”

  “Marcia’s real clear on where I stand with your mom. But this isn’t about your mom. It’s about you.”

  “Trust me. I don’t need closure. I have no lingering emotions where she’s concerned.”

  “It’s not about that.” His dad sounded frustrated. “Don’t you want more?”

  “More what?”

  “More out of life. Ever since you retired, you’re just screwing around, hopping on one plane after another. No ties, no commitments. How can that be satisfying?”

  “Whoa. What are you talking about? I’m not screwing around. I’m running a business. We only launched it in January, and it’s already doing well.” For their Xtreme Adventures travel app, Chris handled coding, Dave managed finances and advertising, and Beckett handled the trips.

  Yeah, he got to have wild ass adventures for a living, but it was hard work. He not only sourced the activities, but he uploaded every photo and video with a link so their customers could immediately book a trip. He also maintained a heavy social media presence, which was their single best marketing tool. Watching him sky surf or swim with sharks got more engagement than he’d ever imagined.

  Not even six months into it—the engagement and retention metrics looked good.

  “Babe?” Willow called. “Come here. This is hilarious.”

  “And I have a girlfriend.” He glanced into the bungalow to find Willow on her back, knees raised, as she scrolled through her phone. “It’s a pretty damn perfect life.”

  “I misspoke. I’m sorry.” His dad sighed. “I’m proud of you for creating this business, and I’m sure I’ll like your girlfriend once I meet her. But I’m talking about something more meaningful. Look, even before Ari died, you had a screwed-up childhood. Your mom wasn’t there for you, and even though I saw what was going on, I didn’t step in. I was so damn stubborn, insisting she take care of you kids since I was earning the money. Your mom and I both screwed up, and I just don’t think you had any kind of good model for what a rewarding life looks like.”

  “I like my life, Dad.”

  “I believe you. I’m just suggesting that you don’t have anything to compare it to. You’re twenty-nine years old, and you don’t know what a good family feels like. You don’t know what roots feel like. I can’t help wondering if talking to your mom might shine some light on the choices you make.”

  “You know, most people envy my life.”

  “Do they? I don’t know that most people would enjoy sleeping in a hotel bed three hundred nights a year.”

  He was probably right about that. “Well, I do. And I found a woman who wants to do it with me.”

  “Oh, my God,” Willow called. “Beckett. Get over here. You’re not going to believe this.”

  “All right, Dad. I’ve got to go.”

  “Sure, okay. But would you do your old man a favor and give it some thought? One conversation with your mom might be worth it if it puts some ghosts to rest.”

  “Sure, Dad. I’ll think about it. I love you.”

  “Love you, too, Son.”

  Water lapping against the foundation of his bungalow, Beckett let the briny breeze wash over him. Whenever he talked to his dad, the past crept back in for an unwelcome visit.

  And it always delivered a memory of his sister.

  This time, it was that moment right before the accident. At the top of the slope, when she’d gazed up at him, cheeks red from the cold, eyes full of adoration.

  Fuck. Every muscle in his body squeezed, wringing out a cold fluid that made him shudder in spite of the balmy air.

  If she’d lived, she would be twenty-three. Would she have gone to college? Or would she have put off school to compete professionally as he had? He’d never know what path she would have chosen, since she’d died so young, but he did know the world had missed out on someone special.

  “What’re you doing out there?” Willow sat up. “Come and see this.”

  He gazed out at the endless, flat blue sea and let himself remember her.

  I miss you, Ari.

  So fucking much.

  He’d do anything to go back to that day and just do one thing differe
ntly. Change the timeline by one second. That’s all it would’ve have taken. If he’d finished boarding one second later, if they’d lingered with their parents one second longer, if they’d taken one extra second before pushing off the slope…

  But he couldn’t change anything. And all he had were the bittersweet memories of a sister he’d loved fiercely who’d died before she’d had a chance to live.

  Shaking it off, he stepped inside and tossed his phone on a chair. “What’s up?” He sat on the edge of the mattress.

  “We just got the most unbelievable offer.” Her eyes shone with excitement.

  “Yeah?” When they’d met, Willow had already been a top Splashagram influencer thanks to her page, @WillowtheWanderer, but once they’d gotten together, her engagement had exploded. Now, she not only traveled from one exotic location to another, all expenses paid by the venues looking for exposure, but she also occasionally joined him on his trips.

  They made a good team.

  She sat up on her knees. “Oh, my God. I’m shaking. Look.” She thrust the phone at him. “This is the opportunity of a lifetime for both of us.”

  He scanned the lengthy private message…love your vibe…massive engagement…yeah, yeah, he’d heard it all before. She never tired, though, of hearing how much people loved her style and page.

  But then his gaze snagged on one word in particular. Wedding. “What wedding?”

  “Ours.” She grabbed the phone back, clicked on a link, and handed it back to him. “Look at this place. Owl Hoot Resort and Spa. It’s a living museum in Calamity, Wyoming. Some billionaire family turned a ghost town—the original settlement of Calamity—into a tourist attraction. It’s like going back in time to the gold rush days. They’ve got gunslingers and shoot-outs, a jailor, a saloon…all that kind of stuff.”

  “Sounds cool.” He’d heard of Calamity, of course—most extreme athletes knew about it—but not the resort.

  She shook her head, like he wasn’t getting it. “They’re still building the place out. They’ve added an amphitheater for live shows, a gondola ride up the mountain, and now they’ve built a gorgeous mountain chapel with stained glass windows and reclaimed wood so they can start a destination wedding business.” She paused for dramatic effect. “And they want us to launch it. All expenses paid.”

  “Launch it how?” He had no idea what any of this had to do with them. “What do they want us to do?”

  “Oh, my God. We’re getting married in Owl Hoot. All expenses paid. But the craziest part is that you used to know these guys, so instead of a chapel, we’re doing it on a glacier.”

  I’m not getting married. “Who? Which guys?”

  “Apparently the billionaires used to snowboard, too. And they think we’ve got the kind of following that will draw attention to their venue.”

  “Are you talking about the Bowies?” The four brothers kept mostly to themselves, but since they’d competed at the same events, he’d hung out with them a lot during those years. He hadn’t seen them since he’d retired six years ago. “They run a resort?” That didn’t sound like them at all.

  “You’re so missing the point.” She grew impatient. “I don’t know the details. I literally just got the message from her while you were talking to your dad. The wedding planner introduced herself, I asked some questions…mentioned you’ve won the X Games five times and she’s like, You’re kidding me. The guys I work for did, too, and then she went and told them about us, and we all decided to screw the chapel. Let’s do it on a glacier. Can you even believe this?”

  “But we’re not engaged.”

  She hurled herself at him, knocking him down on the bed. Scraping his hair back, she smacked kisses all over his face. “Beckett O’Neill, honey bunny, sugar dumpling, will you marry me?”

  He cupped her cheeks, looked her right in the eyes, and said, “No.”

  She sat up. “I know, I know. You’re never getting married, never having kids. And that’s exactly why we’re so perfect for each other, because I don’t want those things, either. We both want the same kind of life.” Straddling him, she sat up. “Which is why this wedding makes so much sense. We’ll both get more exposure than we’ve ever had. Your subscribers will go nuts over a wedding on a glacier. Can you just picture me dropping out of a helicopter in a wedding gown?”

  “Well, now I can.”

  “You said it yourself, this is your time to level up. The first year is make-or-break. Well, here you go.”

  “I’m not going to lie to get followers.”

  “It’s not a lie. It’s a real wedding.”

  “How did this come up if we’re not engaged?”

  “Well…” She turned a single syllable into three and grinned at him. “Remember the other morning when we got coffee in town? I might’ve taken one tiny little picture of our reflection in the window kissing.”

  All his good humor died. Lifting her, he set her aside, rolled off the bed, and got to his feet. “Not cool. You know how I feel about that.” She might get off on the attention, the selfies…all that shit. But he didn’t. For him, it was about growing his app. He uploaded pictures all day long—but only ones that revealed the place he was promoting.

  Since he wouldn’t let her post selfies of the two of them, she’d made a joke out of showing images of his feet, his hand, the back of his head, and her followers loved it. They’d even made a page for his ass. As long as she didn’t post his face or reveal anything personal about him, he didn’t care.

  “I swear, you can’t see your face. Look, I’ll show you.” Brow furrowed in concentration, she clicked on the screen and then held up the phone to show him. “See, it’s just a reflection. You can’t see any details about you at all.” Reaching for his hand, she said softly, “You know I’d never betray you like that.”

  While he couldn’t be identified in the shot, the whole thing pissed him off. “I still don’t see how a picture led to a wedding.”

  “I guess, because I showed us kissing, they got the idea we were making a statement. Someone goes, Are you engaged? And then it just got out of control. It got tons of comments. You can’t even believe how many new followers I got just from the speculation.”

  “I really wish you hadn’t done that.”

  “Well, anyhow, all that led to a private message from the wedding planner. This will be amazing for both of us, babe. I’ve never seen anything like Owl Hoot. Here, check it out.”

  She handed him the phone again so he could see the images. He barely glanced at the landing page—the elevated boardwalk, the costumed actors walking the streets, the saloon and jail. The place looked interesting, for sure, but he wasn’t getting married. “Where did you leave things with her?”

  “I told her I was interested and would be in touch, and she wrote right back to say they’d even throw in a custom-made wedding dress by a famous designer who lives in Calamity.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Come on, babe. We’re perfect for each other. Who else are you going to find that doesn’t want the whole kids, dog, and picket fence gig? Who wants to legit spend her life on the road the way we do?”

  True, she never had a problem with his schedule, the fact that it kept them apart so much. And, when they were able to be together, they were perfect travel companions—they both liked to explore. She’d been a professional volleyball player, so they both favored athletic adventures over spas and beaches.

  “I mean, honestly, there’s no one else I’d rather be with.” She hugged him, the coconut and vanilla scent of her body lotion swirling around him. “We’re so good together. Let’s do this.” She pulled back, arms still around him. “Okay?”

  “Because you want a million more followers or because you want to marry me?”

  “Don’t even try to make me feel bad for wanting both. This is my career, and I love it. Besides, that’s a trick question. Neither of us wants to get married. We’d both be doing it for our careers. You need to level up? Here you go. I’m handing it to you on a sil
ver platter. We won’t have to do a thing but show up.”

  He saw her point and was on the verge of agreeing to the ridiculous plan…but his dad’s concerns still clung to him like smoke. He couldn’t deny the truth of it—he was twenty-nine and had no roots, no ties.

  And marrying Willow would only cement that. Which seemed an odd thing to say, since marriage meant spending their lives together. But he knew a certificate wouldn’t change their relationship. It wouldn’t deepen it. That’s just not what we have.

  On the other hand…I am who I am. He couldn’t imagine anything better than a life full of travel and good times. Still, there was one sticking point. The one that mattered more than any other. “If we do this, if we get married, we’re still not having kids, right?”

  She shook her head. “God, no. No kids. I’m not going to change my mind ten years from now and beg you for one, believe me.” She pressed a soft kiss on his mouth. “There’s no one on this earth I’d rather spend my life with than you, Beckett O’Neill. Are we going to do this?”

  What the hell. “Yeah, okay.” Why not? “Sure.”

  Coco Cavanaugh stood a few feet back from the picnic table, recording her daughter’s birthday party on her phone.

  Five years. God. Her heart clutched. It was all going so fast.

  Bright balloons clobbered each other in a brisk breeze, and the tablecloth fluttered around the rocks anchoring it. Everyone gathered around her daughter to sing.

  “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday, dear Posie, happy birthday to you.”

  Sunlight glinted off the sparkles on her daughter’s headband and dress, as her parents stood like sentries around the cake to protect the candles from the wind.

  Her little girl puffed her cheeks out like a blowfish, but instead of exhaling, she closed her eyes to make a wish. Posie took these opportunities very seriously.

  Because she wished fervently for one thing: to be a fairy. A real one.

  Coco’s ex, a graphic artist she’d dated a year ago, had told Posie she could be anything she wanted, if she just wished hard enough. And then, of course, he’d moved away before clarifying that it didn’t include things in the magical realm.