How We Fall: The Men of Evansdale County, #2

By Alyne Hart

I have a confession to make. I'm in love with one of my employees.

Work is my wife and my focus lies on the perfection of my food and becoming a celebrity chef. My name is Finn King. I'm young successful, single, sexy and hotter than anything that comes out of my kitchen. But women and love aren't on my list of priorities. Not until in walks Hailee Ferris with her smart mouth and flaming red hair. She challenges me at every turn - and I just can't get enough of it. 

She doesn't believe in fairy tales or happily ever after, she learned that the hard way a long time ago. She's made it clear that all she wants to do is save up enough money to move away from this small town she's felt trapped in her whole life. She lied to get the job at my restaurant and I probably should have fired her. 

Then one accidental kiss changed everything. It turned both of our worlds, and our plans upside down and nothing will ever be the same. Now my cooking isn't the only thing heating up the kitchen. 

(This book is a stand alone romance in The Men of Evansdale County Series. No cheating, no cliffhangers and a guaranteed HEA. Bonus content included: extra epilogue and sneak peek chapter for the next book in this series)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alyne Hart
• Release date: Jun 27, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386721888

Alyne Hart

Alyne Hart is a contemporary romance author and wine connoisseur living in Walla Walla, WA. She's known for writing stories that pack an emotional punch and get you right in the feels.  She loves writing real, flawed characters and writing about realistic, gritty and raw romance. She's a romance junkie and happy endings addict, and if you’re a lover of deeply emotional, flawed and realistic romance reads with lots of delicious angst, her books are for you. Alyne's stories involve characters with bigger problems than just finding love. She writes stories about making peace with the past, rekindling old flames and healing old wounds. She loves small towns, men in uniform and alpha males with a heart of gold.  She began her story-telling journey first with her dolls, then it progressed to paper. She has a deep love for anything romantic, and she's a believer that in love anything is possible.  When Alyne isn’t writing, you can find her reading, hanging out with her cat, and spending time with her two children. She enjoys trips to the mountains just as much as trips to the wine cellar, live music, chick flick movie marathons and hanging out with her eclectic group of friends.  Follow Alyne: Facebook → http://bit.ly/2w89KNP Twitter → http://bit.ly/2w8kRqb Blog → http://bit.ly/2vxvmGy Goodreads → http://bit.ly/2vv8S8S Bookbub → http://bit.ly/2fyhncE Newsletter → https://mailchi.mp/a8a0de143ef8/alynehart

Book preview

How We Fall © 2018 by Alyne Hart. All Rights Reserved.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review. 

Cover designed by Alyne Hart

Cover photographer: Reggie Deanching

Proofreading and editing by Melita Bloomer

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. 

Alyne Hart

Visit my website at www.alynehart.com 

Printed in the United States of America 

First Printing: June 2018

Also By Alyne Hart

The Homecoming Series (duet)

Rocking Autumn

Rocking Forever (release date TBD)

The Men of Evansdale County

The Space Between Us

How We Fall

Something Like This (release date TBD)

What About Us (release date TBD)

Standalones

The Island

Thank You

I WANT TO TAKE A MOMENT to thank some very important people.

First, and as always, thank you to my two children who inspire me every day and make me push myself to be better than the day before. As my youngest likes to brag – his mom is an offer – and he thinks that’s pretty cool, until I tell him I write kissing books.

Thank you to my mom, who is not only my best friend, but my biggest fan.

Thank you to my dear friend and totally awesome proofreader and boss bitch, Melita—you’re always there when I need you, and I appreciate you so much. And to my Alpha reader Crystal. Your tough, no holds barred feedback makes me a better writer and your input is invaluable to me.

And thank you to my amazing team of Beta readers who challenge me to create the best stories possible. Kara, Melissa and Victoria – you guys rock and I love you.

Last, I would like to thank my tribe. The ladies of Kissing Books 101. A top secret and magical place where the group of us share our ups and downs, our most vulnerable moments and our highest highs. In no particular order: Kara, Molly, Syd, Harlow, Catherine, Larissa, Jessa, Grahame, Clare, Richelle, Kelsey,  Emma, Tracy, and Saxon – you guys are always there when any of us needs an ear. We’ve been each other's cheerleaders and talked each other off a few ledges. Finding a tribe is important, and we all clicked from day one. Thank you!

How We Fall

The Men of Evansdale County 2

Alyne Hart

CONTENTS

Also By Alyne Hart

Thank You

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

CHAPTER 30

CHAPTER 31

CHAPTER 32

CHAPTER 33

CHAPTER 34

CHAPTER 35

CHAPTER 36

CHAPTER 37

CHAPTER 38

CHAPTER 39

CHAPTER 40

CHAPTER 41

CHAPTER 42

CHAPTER 43

CHAPTER 44

CHAPTER 45

CHAPTER 46

CHAPTER 47

Epilogue

Second Epilogue

The Men of Evansdale County

Sneak Peek

Also By Alyne Hart

Contact ME

Cooking is like love; it should be entered into with abandon or not at all.

—JULIA CHILD

This book is dedicated to my mother and the wonderful memories from my childhood involving food. Homemade bread, fresh fruit jams, juicy apple pies and the hearty homecooked meals that brought our family together. Whether you knew it or not Mom, those were the times that counted most...

CHAPTER 1

Hailee

WHAT IN THE HELL IS a dragon fruit?

The scribbled list taunted me from my hand. Bright blue ink scrawled across a white paper napkin that looked more like hieroglyphics than actual words. With my brow wrinkling in confusion, I stared harder, hoping that somehow I would magically know what these things were. Starfruit. Blood oranges. Medjool dates. Grappa?

Okay, maybe this job wasn’t for me. In fact, it seemed more like the job from hell at this point.

It was my first day at the restaurant. Some guy whose nametag read Toby, came stomping out of the kitchen like an angry bull. His pale, almost chalk-white face was flushed beet red across his cheeks and forehead, dripping with thick beads of sweat that ran beneath the collar of his white chef coat. He thrust the list in my hand, along with some cash that reeked of the same cheese and burned garlic that he did.

Toby told me I had to go to the Canary Whole Foods Market on Houghton Road to get the things on the list and that I needed to be back before one. He also said the chef was exceptionally particular so to only get the best.

Even when I tried to explain that it was my first day and that I was just a hostess, he didn’t care. He said the king needed them, and I had to do it. Fast. Then he rushed back towards the kitchen quicker than Cinderella leaving the ball.

I mean, if the king was so particular, why couldn’t he just get his own stupid dragon fruit instead of sending me on my first day?

I stood there, waiting for the bus and cursing Toby under my breath, shivering against the chill of October air rustling past my cheeks like an icy breath. With my arms hugged tight around myself, I wished I had a better coat. Or that maybe the only black skirt I owned, which was part of the hostess dress code—all black – dress, or blouse and skirt—wasn’t so short. Even with the thick black tights I wore beneath it, the thin cotton was no match for the weather.

Now it was nearing twelve-fifteen, the list of nearly foreign-sounding items I had to gather was still gripped tightly in my hand while I wandered around the market. I was most likely going to get fired. Or maybe I should just quit?

This is dragon fruit, a male voice called beside me, so deep and resonating that it sounded like what I imagined the echo inside of a bass guitar might when it was being played.

Had I said that out loud?

What? My forehead pinched together as I spun on my heels only to be faced with one of—no—the, most gorgeous man I’d ever seen in my life.

No description could do a man like him justice other than breaking down every bit of him into a list of bullet points. Tall. Check.  A lean Adonis-like physique with golden tan skin. Check. A face that looked like an Armani cologne model in a magazine? CHECK.

He was all muscle from what I could tell. Easily standing at six-four, maybe even taller, with massive, broad shoulders. His dark blond hair twisted into a bun at the base of his neck with sandy colored strands poking out from beneath the band holding it all together. Pieces of hair curled around the nape of his neck and for a second I wondered what they might feel like brushing against my lips.

He had a neatly trimmed, thick beard and mustache with crystal-clear, light blue eyes almost the same color as faded blue jeans. But it was the chiseled line of his lips that had me momentarily entranced, and the way his thin upper lip curved perfectly against the fullness of the lower one.

This man was the very essence of sex. He was the kind of man women threw themselves at. The sort of man who could all too easily have any woman he wanted at the snap of his fingers.

Correction. Any woman, except for me, that is. Men were currently off my radar. Especially ones like this even though I had to remind myself to keep my gaze from falling on the sensual curve of his lips for too long.

Dragon fruit, he smiled, holding up a strange looking thing in the palm of his hand. It was oval shaped, and a bright rose color with green, spiky tips. It almost looked like a miniature pink pineapple. Sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.

No, fiery red heat filled my cheeks. Stupid freaking blushing. It had nothing to do with being embarrassed or even the man standing in front of me. It’s okay. I—I didn’t realize I’d said that out loud, actually. So, that’s a dragon fruit? And people eat it?

"What were you planning on doing with it?" he asked. The amused smile that lifted his lips had me momentarily hypnotized.

Why was my heart pounding so loud?

My head shook, jolting me back to reality. I had little time to get the things on my list and get back, much less time to be contemplating the way my mouth suddenly went dry. Because I really didn’t want to have to look for another job all because I got too wrapped up in staring at a handsome man's smile.

It’s just this list, I held out the napkin with chicken-scratches of blue ink across it with a loud exhale of air. I just started this job today, and my boss gave me this list and told me to come get all this stuff. Blood oranges? Some weird dates—and you wouldn’t happen to know what grappa is would you?

I shoved the list even closer in his direction to see if maybe he could decipher it. I dunno, I should probably just quit. This guy kind of sounds like a demanding, control-freak asshole if you ask me.

Yes, he certainly does, the man took the napkin from my hands and studied it with a cocked eyebrow. His pale blue eyes grazed across the list before he lifted his gaze back to me, a slightly bemused smirk quirking one cheek higher than the other. Well, lucky for you, I know what all of these are. Grab yourself a basket.

The man was dressed well in a snug shirt and dark jeans like maybe he was headed for a casual day at the office, or perhaps even a lunch date. It was a dark blue button up shirt with the top button undone and he had the sleeves rolled to his elbows, showing off  his hard, muscular forearms. The fabric itself screamed of wealth and class, as did the leather Burberry sneakers on his feet. The only thing that seemed out of place in his otherwise professional, yuppie appearance was the rows of tiny silver hoops lining his ears. The combination was oddly intriguing.

He seemed strangely at ease in the market, studying the fruits and vegetables. I followed him around like an obedient puppy, basket in hand as he tossed the items from my list inside, but not before telling me a little about each one.

So where do you work? he asked, casually running his fingers across shining, yellow fruit. I couldn’t help but notice that his fingernails were clean and filed across the tops at precisely the same length and he had no cuticles to speak of.

Did he get manicures? I tucked my free hand into the pocket of my jacket so he couldn’t see the chips in my turquoise nail polish.

Acquiesce? my lips twisted around the word. It’s that fancy place over on Monte Ridge. I just started today.

Nice place, he glanced in my direction, looking me up and down for a moment before giving his attention to another basket of fruit, drifting his fingertips across the pitted, brightly colored skin of a small orange. Do you have an interest in fine cuisine or—

No, I snorted and cut him off. Give me a grilled cheese or some fried chicken, and I’m happy as a clam. Don’t get me wrong, I love food. Always have. My grandma taught me how to cook when I was little, and it was something we did together every Sunday after church. She watches all those celebrity cooking shows too, and she’s always trying to make the things she sees. But this stuff, it just seems kind of uppity and snooty. But, it’s a job, you know?

His lips twitched at the corners, fighting a smirk. So you’ve never worked at a restaurant, much less an upscale one I take it?

No, is it that obvious?

The smirk won. Apparently, I was amusing to the handsome mystery man. He probably thought I was a country bumpkin, lost in a whole foods market like some kind of damsel in distress with a shopping list. I suppose he’d be mostly right.

It was nice of them to hire you without having any experience. I hear they’re sticklers for that over there.

I lied, I admitted with a sheepish grin. I mean, everyone does it, right? How hard can it be to seat people at a table and hand them a menu?

Hmmph, he chuckled under his breath. And this, he plucked a thin bottle with clear, golden liquid swirling inside it from a shelf, is grappa. It’s Italian alcohol made from the pulp left over from crushed grapes used to make wine.

"So, it’s like, wine scraps?" my nose wrinkled at the thought.

No, not quite, he laughed, his eyes crinkling a bit in the corners. It’s delicious, though it is an acquired taste. And— his corn-flower blue eyes skimmed the napkin list I’d handed him earlier, I think this is everything on your shopping list.

Thank you, I gushed with relief. I pulled my phone from my coat pocket to check the time. Twelve-forty-one. Oh crap, I’m running late. Thank you— my head tilted in question, hoping he would at least offer his name so I could thank my hero properly.

Finn, he answered.

Thank you, Finn.

Can I give you a ride? He offered.

I gulped and stared at him for a second and contemplated the proposition before shaking my head. Number one rule in life we all learn as kids? No taking rides from strangers. Even ones who look like him. No, I’ll catch the next bus.

Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. You said you were running late, he shot me a blinding smile in apology. I just thought maybe I could help.

Yeah. It’s just that I have a policy against getting into strangers cars and getting chopped into a million tiny pieces. You understand, right? But thank you—for the offer.

Smart, he smiled at me again. Well, it was lovely meeting you—

Hailee, I answered.

Hailee. The way his lips curled around my name had my mouth running dry again and every muscle in my body tensing up. Good luck with the job.

Thanks, I hiccuped before turning to rush to the cash register.

I ran as fast as I could to the bus stop, not even taking time to stop and admire the way the vibrant, flamboyant colors of summer had transitioned into the rich, jewel-toned hues of fall. I was mostly praying I wouldn’t break the bottle of grappa or bruise any of the food. I don’t know. Does dragon fruit bruise?

God. I was an idiot. That guy was gorgeous, and chances are, he probably wasn’t an ax-wielding murderer. I could have at least taken the ride and gotten out of the cold and lived to tell the tale. I was kicking myself until I remembered that as far as myself and men go, I seem to always have an eye for the wrong ones, and he was probably no different. Despite his expensive taste in shoes and his sex god good looks, he was more than likely just like the rest of them.

An asshole. A cheat. A liar.

When I finally made it back to Acquiesce, it was one-thirty, and my heart was pounding frantically in my chest. Even though I’d gotten everything on the list, I was late with the king's items, so I was probably getting fired anyway.

Pushing my way through the massive wood and glass doors, I walked as quickly as I could through a maze of tables until I reached the kitchen. Using my shoulder, I butted the swinging stainless steel doors open, holding the bags in front of myself taking deep gulps of air.

I got it, my chest heaved with heavy breaths as I rounded the corner. I got all the stuff you asked for.

When I made it around the sharp, steel edge of the wall, I found myself face to chest with a dark blue, button-up shirt that screamed of designer origins and I’d bet if I looked down, I’d see Burberry trainers. When I finally let my eyes lift to meet the face smiling down at me, a bit smugly I might add, the heat of a thousand fires filled my cheeks.

Stupid blushing.

No way. No. Freaking. Way.

Thank you, Hailee, the gorgeous mystery man from earlier nodded with a blinding grin. A grin like that was no fair as there were several feelings inside of me fighting for control. Embarrassment, humiliation, and shock.

But mostly, and the most annoying of them all—lust.

Ugh. I am so getting fired.

Toby, he stood solidly and unmoving, calling over his shoulder. Come here please.

Toby, the guy who’d given me the money and the list earlier appeared, red-faced and still sweating profusely. It ran in wide rivulets down his cheeks and forehead.

I wondered for a second if they had a sweat lodge back there or something.

When Toby saw me, and Finn, and the bags—his eyes about bugged right out of his head.

Did you give Hailee the list that I texted you earlier? The one I asked you to get so I could prepare dessert for a VIP guest this evening?

Yes, but— Toby stammered.

On her first day, no less? Finn remained in complete control. His voice continued with it’s calm and even tempo, and if he was angry, his face didn’t indicate it. It was devoid of any telling sign at all.

Yes, Toby admitted.

You realize she doesn’t work in my kitchen, nor does she know my standards. Yet you entrusted her to pick things out when she had no clue what they were. She’s lucky I decided to swing by the market myself or this could have been a disaster.

Chef, I—

That’s all Toby, you can leave now, he stated, all at once calm and forceful.

Chef, I— he begged.

Go home, Toby. You’re fired. Finn’s otherwise smooth voice took on a sharp edge like broken glass.

Hailee, he stared down at me, his lips twisting into an amused and somewhat arrogant smirk. Pleasure to meet you. I’m Finn King, and this, he made a grand, waving gesture with his hand, is my kitchen.

Ah. The King. Well, at least it made sense now.

I, uh— I gulped, my lips snapping tightly shut. Words weren’t something I was usually at a loss for. However, nothing would come out except a stammering attempt at sounds trying to form into words.

Come with me.

I followed him dutifully to an office off of the kitchen.

So this is how you screw up a good job on the first day? I am so getting fired.

Are you firing me? I blurted after I took a seat opposite him. My lower lip trembled. I hated myself for it. I’m not weak. Not by any stretch of the imagination. But I was angry at myself for saying all those things, to a complete stranger, who of course wound up being my boss. Anger and my tear ducts seemed to be controlled by the same part of my brain. So tears it was.

Yes, I lied to get the job. Yes, I’d heard that the chef was a little bit of a control freak who ran the kitchen with an iron fist. And yes, I told him that before I knew it was him. But I couldn’t get fired for that. Right?

CHAPTER 2

Finn

A WOMAN CAN DRIVE A sane man to do crazy things in the same way hunger, greed and lust can. A woman like this could cause me to go insane.

I could fire her. I should fire her. What I really should do is call the staff manager, and let him deal with her. But one look inside those big green doe-shaped eyes, and I crumbled into specks of dust. Because just one word falling from those plump lips, sinfully sweet like powdered sugar, teased my ears into wanting, no, needing more. I couldn’t help but wonder how she might sound if I was fucking her. Would she moan? Whimper? Scream my name?

Christ, I needed to get laid. My face blanked to hide any devious thought or emotion from showing.

Outside the office, the kitchen was picking up in speed. The closer it is to dinner time, the wilder it gets back here. It’s a carefully calculated orchestra of both skill and chaos. A faint perfume of butter and sautéed garlic wafted through the door, and my mouth watered much like it did when I saw her wandering around the market.

It’s my driving force in life. Food that is.

I’m compelled by aromas and tastes, creating an emotional experience with food so intense you might confuse it