by Marie James
“Are you ladies ready?” Lawson asks as the manager hands him a set of keys.
“Have you thought of what you’re going to say to him?” Melissa whispers as we stand and gather our bags.
“Who?” I feign innocence as we cross the parking lot to a Tahoe.
“Maybe Ivy should drive,” Delilah suggests.
I’m seconds away from refusing because I catch the suggestive waggle of her eyebrows as she speaks to Lawson, but he takes care of it for me.
“Not a chance,” he chastises her, easing the sting of the refusal with a quick peck to her forehead. “I’ll drive.”
We load our luggage into the back, and I can feel Melissa’s eyes on the side of my head. She’s well aware that I didn’t answer her question. Yes, I’m avoiding it, but I also have no dang clue what I’ll say to him. The crush I’ve had on him for years has forced me into silence around him. I can’t think straight, and when I do gain the courage to speak, it’s mostly small talk. Getting picked up for dealing drugs on base isn’t small talk material.
Not one hundred percent sure about what can be said in mixed company, Melissa doesn’t hound me on the forty-minute drive to Farmington. As we draw closer, the more nervous I get about being on the same property as Griffin. Delilah convinces Lawson to take us to lunch, citing that it’s rude to show up starving, but I wouldn’t put it past her to create a delay just to get on my nerves.
As we eat, the roar of a motorcycle pulls everyone’s eyes toward the café window. The man that flies past isn’t wearing a Cerberus cut nor is it Griffin, but the possibility that it could’ve been makes my anxiety soar even higher.
“What do I say to him?” I blurt out to everyone at the table.
Melissa shrugs, and I narrow my eyes at her. For someone who was super interested in my plans, I find it annoying that she can’t even give me a little advice right now.
“Tell him that you’re there for him, and if he ever needs anything, you’re the girl to call.” Delilah waggles her eyebrows, much the same way she did back at the rental car place, as she talks. The woman has turned into a nympho since her and Lawson reconnected.
“Don’t do that,” Lawson counters, side-eying his fiancée for giving shoddy advice. “Not the last part at least.”
“She’s going to have to give it up eventually.”
Melissa nods in agreement with Delilah. I can feel my cheeks heat with embarrassment for them speaking this way in his presence.
“Stop,” Lawson chides the two women before turning his eyes back to me. “He won’t respect you if he thinks you’re a booty call. Men don’t work that way. Easy isn’t always best.”
A swarm of emotions rushes my body, anticipation at the mere thought of Griffin wanting me in any way and disappointment at the same time that something serious may never cross his mind.
“I treated you like a booty call when we met up in Providence,” Delilah argues.
“That was different. I was madly in love with you.” Lawson grins at his declaration, but Delilah playfully shoves him anyway.
“Griffin could love Ivy,” Melissa argues.
“More likely he still has the hots for Gigi.” Delilah slaps her hand over her mouth, and even Lawson looks a little disappointed in her at the moment.
“Sorry,” she whispers after a long silence.
“It’s fine,” I tell her because she’s probably right.
I may have always been watching Griffin’s every move, but his eyes gravitated in Gigi’s direction. Even during visits while Gigi was missing, he didn’t go out of his way to speak with me. After he joined the Marines, his attention was more on the other guys who had served. I don’t know why I hope things will be different this time. Precedence says he’ll chat with the guys and occasionally nod in my direction out of common courtesy.
“Maybe we should take her to a salon and do a whole makeover on her. Sex her up a ton. He’d never be able to resist her then,” Melissa suggests.
Delilah’s eyes light up, her smile almost enough for me to consider the idea.
“No,” Lawson grunts then scrapes his hand over the top of his head. “This isn’t a teen movie. Makeovers don’t make men fall in love. There has to be a connection, some sort of need he can only find in you. If he isn’t breathless when you walk into a room; if the air in your lungs isn’t what he requires to live, then there is no bond. You can’t force something like that.”
“Wow,” Melissa pants as she watches the couple on the other side of the booth.
I grin at my friends. Lawson’s explanation somehow turned into a declaration to Delilah, and the sight of them so in love is almost enough to alleviate the pain from realizing I’ll never have with Griffin what these two have in spades.
***
It’s been less than two weeks since I stood in front of the Cerberus clubhouse, but with the way I linger in the parking lot, one would think I hadn’t been here for years.
“Are you going to stand there and stare or are you going to say hello?”
The deepness in his voice and the sun at his back is almost enough to convince me that the man standing in front of me with his arms wide is the man I’ve dreamed of for eternity.
“Come on. I haven’t seen you in forever.” Cannon flexes his fingers, encouraging me to step into his embrace, so I do. Shamefully, I let my mind imagine that it’s his brother snuggling his nose into my neck for a brief second before I return the hug.
“You smell amazing.” Just the sound of his deep inhalation so close to my ear sends a wave of shivers down my back. Noticing the tremble, Cannon holds me closer. The only thing that is different than the million other hugs we’ve shared is the slight grip of his fingers low on my hips. It’s more personal than it’s ever been before.
Suddenly uneasy, I release him and urge him to step back with my palms on his chest. The tightness of his muscles under my palms does nothing to rid the moment of its awkwardness.
“Me next,” Delilah says before I’m moved aside and she takes my place.
“He didn’t do that one arm side hug with you,” Melissa whispers. “Is that Griffin? Now I know why you’ve been hung up on him. The man is smoking hot.”
“That’s his—”
“I’m Cannon.” My friend holds his hand out for Melissa to take. “Welcome to New Mexico.”
Like a sly dog, Cannon lifts Melissa’s hand and presses a slow kiss to the back. In awe of his brazenness, she grins up at him. Poor Cannon doesn’t have a clue that Melissa will be the one to chew him up and spit him out, not the other way around.
Cannon releases Melissa’s hand with a wink before reaching out to welcome Lawson.
“When did Can turn into a sly little dog?” Delilah asks as the guys turn back to the SUV to gather the bags.
“I have no clue,” I respond, hopeful that whatever little show of affection we just shared is soon forgotten.
“Where’s Griffin?” Melissa asks as we follow the guys around the clubhouse to the individual houses behind it.
Cannon looks over his shoulder, eyes locking with mine before he answers, “He left as soon as we got back from San Diego. He’s not staying here.”
“Do you know where he’s at?” my relentless friend purrs.
Cannon shrugs, and my mood falls. Not seeing him is ten times worse than the emotions I was struggling with from the anticipation of actually speaking to him.
“He had me meet him at Jake’s last night to get his stuff, but he wouldn’t tell me where he was staying.” That’s a clue. “He doesn’t seem like he wants to see anyone.”
That news crushes me.
Chapter 5
Griffin
Coming to Jake’s in the evening the last couple of nights has proved to be the wrong method, that’s why at two in the afternoon, I’m already here. I can start my drinking earlier and have enough time to sober up enough to drive before the bar closes.
I had the same plan last night; only I missed the step where I was sup
posed to stop drinking. I’m sure I would’ve been fine, but the bartender insisted on driving me home. I came back today to grab my bike. The seven-mile walk was just as rough in the New Mexico heat as it was in the Middle East. The lure of cold beer was too much for me to resist, so here I sit.
Some high school state baseball championship plays on the old TV in the corner, but no one is paying attention. I, along with the five other people in the bar, aren’t here to watch a ball game. No, if you’re in a bar to drink before happy hour, you’re not exactly interested in anything other than drowning whatever issue brought you here in the first place.
The front door opens, and instinctively my eyes peer up to determine the threat level, but the slender woman backlit by the afternoon sun isn’t enough to draw any more attention than the cursory glance. My half-empty beer is of more concern for me.
“Hey,” a delicate feminine voice says as long slender legs come into view near my pub-top table.
My bad attitude makes me want to bark at her to leave me alone. Doesn’t she know the rules about day drinking? My usually hidden libido, however, perks up. The sight of her pink toenails in dainty sandals is a sight for sore eyes. On base, all I ever saw were female soldiers, and they were usually wearing the same clunky combat boots that adorned my own feet.
“Griffin?” Now that voice is familiar.
My head snaps up faster than I’d intended, almost causing me to fall off the stool. Her arms, warm from the midday sun, wrap around my body to steady me. Her pert breasts are against my chest, and the sweet scent of her hair fills my nose.
“Georgia?” My nose trails up the soft column of her neck, something I’ve never done.
She freezes for a quick second before taking a step back. The second my eyes can fully focus on her, I realize my mistake. The brunette standing in front of me isn’t sexy little vixen Gigi, but her more homely sister— “Genevieve.”
Her face falls for a fraction of a second before she manages a small smile. I never call her by her full name. No one does, but I’m hoping that the formality will keep her from trying to get personal.
“Hey.” Sadness laces her tone, but her judgment isn’t something I need right now.
“What are you doing here?” I raise my hand to signal the bartender for another beer.
“The semester is over, so I’m home for the summer.”
“Anything for you, miss?” Mike asks when he drops my beer off.
“She’s not stay—”
“I’ll take a Diet Coke, please,” she interrupts.
I’d tell her she just sounded like her sister, but I don’t imagine that would go over very well. I don’t want her here, but being rude isn’t something I can manage either. If my mother got wind of it, she’d pull me out of this bar by the ear, and that’s not even a fraction of the grief I’d catch from my dad.
Without invitation, Ivy sits down on the stool across from me.
“I meant, what are you doing at Jake’s?” I correct from my earlier question.
“Cannon says you aren’t staying on Cerberus property.”
“Cannon needs to mind his own damn business.” The bartender drops off Ivy’s drink, but I grab him before he can leave. “Two shots of Jack.”
“ID?” the guy asks Ivy.
“Oh,” Ivy says with a small chuckle, “I’m not drinking.”
“They’re both for me,” I snarl. “Make them doubles.”
The bartender, clearly accustomed to angry patrons, rolls his eyes before walking away to fill my order.
“Did my parents send you?”
“No.” Ivy narrows her eyes at me. “Is there a reason you’re being a complete jerk?”
“I was just sitting here having a drink. You’re the one who came in here expecting a trip down memory lane.”
“I expect nothing from you,” she hisses, and the ire in her voice is almost enough to make me back off, but what fun is there in that?
“Who sent you?” I ask again.
“No one.”
“Bullshit,” I spit with enough acrimony that the bartender drops off my doubles and spins away without another word. “We’re not friends. We barely even talk to each other when we’re both home. Why are you here?”
Regret fills her eyes as they begin to shimmer with tears. So much for not trying to catch grief from my family. If this girl goes back and tells anyone I was mean to her, it’ll be more trouble than it’s worth, but I can’t seem to stop antagonizing her. I’m not oblivious. Maybe in high school I was unaware of her little crush on me, but I had already spent two and a half years in the Corps when I’d seen her last. I felt her eyes on me every second I was within her sight. She couldn’t have been more obvious short of walking over and sitting on my lap. I wouldn’t have allowed it back then, but everything is different now. Pretending she’s Gigi, the twin that always got my dick hard when she walked into a room, won’t be much of a hardship. They’re mostly identical, and the liquor helps with the subtle differences.
The decent part of me cringes at the thought of using Ivy for any form of sexual satisfaction, not because I think she wouldn’t want it, but because I know she wants more. Hoping the last couple of years that Cannon somehow catches her eye as a consolation to keep me from breaking her heart when she finally gets brave enough to put it all out there doesn’t seem like it’s going to happen.
“I wanted to see how you were doing.”
“What?” My brows draw in, half in confusion, half from the burn of the first glass of whiskey I tossed back. I throw back the second glass in an effort to ease the burn from the first.
Ivy’s nose turns up in disgust when I wipe residual whiskey off my chin with the back of my hand.
“I’m here because I wanted to see how you’re doing.”
“I’m fine,” I grunt.
“Clearly,” she says with a snideness I never knew her to have before.
Unlike every other time I’ve made eye contact with her, she stares directly into my eyes instead of diverting her gaze. When did she grow a backbone? The brazenness is both encouraging and making me uneasy. The last thing I need or want is someone concerned about my well-being. I’m happy and quite content to drink myself into an early grave alone.
She huffs, an indignant sound that brings back insecurities from years ago, and I glare at her. “Something on your mind?”
I have no clue why I ask. I don’t really give a shit about her answer.
“I heard you were in trouble.” Her white teeth dig into her lower lip as if she’s trying to figure out what to say next. “Have you always been this hateful? I’m sure I’d remember if you were. I can’t believe I spent all these years—”
Her jaw snaps shut, and she breaks our eye contact. The quiver in her chin makes me feel like the biggest asshole in the world.
Getting her to stop looking at me with stars in her eyes was my goal, but now that they’re gone, I miss them.
“I should go.” She slides off the stool, and reaches into her pocket for money to pay for her drink.
“I got it,” I insist, standing up too swiftly. My head spins, but I somehow manage to place my hand over hers to stop her from throwing her money down. “Listen.”
Her head shakes slightly, and I know she wants nothing more than to run away from me, but her good manners won’t let her.
“I’m sorry I’m an asshole. I’m sorry I want to be alone. I’m sorry I’m not the man you’ve imagined all of these years.”
Ivy’s head snaps back, and something akin to annoyance fills her features.
“Fuck,” I grunt. “Just… I’m fine. Tell everyone at the clubhouse I’m fine.”
I turn to leave because I know she’s likely to stand there as long as I allow it, but my boots don’t get the memo. They tangle in each other and refuse to work as I fall toward the ground.
The rush of the floor hitting me in the chest takes my breath away, and Ivy’s alarmed gasp barely registers in my ears.
I d
o the only thing I can while lying on the dirty floor in a bar, I laugh.
“You’re cut off,” the bartender says, standing over me and not bothering to give me a hand.
“It’s the middle of the afternoon,” I argue.
“And yet you’re still drunk on the floor.”
“I didn’t trip because I’ve been drinking. My feet stuck to your nasty ass floor,” I hiss, embarrassment settling in when I realize the other patrons are all staring in my direction. Even the old man who’s always here before and after me shakes his head in disappointment.
“Let me help you.” Ivy reaches her hand down, but I refuse it.
“I’m fine,” I grunt as I get my feet under me. I pull a fifty dollar bill from my pocket and slam it on the table. “I’m out of here.”
The June air is suffocating outside the bar, but I know the breeze on my face will make me feel incrementally better once I can get my bike moving.
“You kick one leg over that bike, and I’m calling your dad.”
My body freezes mid-step with the threat.
Chapter 6
Ivy
“I need to run into that store.”
I roll my eyes in disbelief when I follow the point of his finger.
Griffin reluctantly climbed into my borrowed car after I threatened to get his dad involved, but he hasn’t said a word to me since we were inside Jake’s. It’s not very different than how things normally are. We always just exist in the same space without much between us.
“The liquor store?” I clarify.
“Quit riding my ass.”
My jaw snaps shut. I attempted tough love or whatever it would be called earlier in the bar. I shoved down all my fear and the feelings I had for him all this time to really try to be there for him, and he treated me like trash. Gigi would tell me to spit in his face and walk away, well the old Gigi would anyway. She’s different now. My gut is telling me that no matter how much he pushes me away, now is when he needs someone the most. I refuse to allow the truth that although he needs someone, that someone very possibly isn’t me.
