by Nina Levine
After contemplating that, Scott asked, “How much time are we talking here?”
“A day.”
Scott nodded. “You have a day, but within twenty-four hours I want that name and that information.” It stunned me that Scott gave him that, and it showed me the respect he had for Wilder.
“You’ll have it,” he agreed.
As he walked away from us, Scott called out, “And Wilder?” Wilder turned back to look at us, and Scott continued, “This is the first and last time we have a conversation like that.”
Wilder gave a nod of understanding and then left us.
My phone rang at that moment, distracting me because of the name on the caller ID. “Josie. Everything okay?”
“Michael, I’ve hurt myself. Can you come now, please?” Her voice was off, and alarm coursed through me.
“I’m on my way,” I replied.
* * *
I jogged up Josie’s front stairs, worried as fuck for her. She never begged me to come and help her. I half expected to find her passed out when I walked through her front door.
Her front door that was open right now. That was odd.
Fuck.
“Josie,” I called out as I entered and strode down her hallway.
“We’re in here.”
I halted. I’d know that voice anywhere. Sweet as fucking sin, and more dangerous than half the danger I’d ever come up against in my life. That voice could make a man do things he never dreamt he’d ever do.
When I didn’t reply, Sophia stepped from the kitchen into the hallway and smiled at me. That smile shot straight to my dick, and I sucked in a breath at the force of it. She wore goddamn shorts again. Jesus fucking Christ, those shorts would be the death of me.
“Hey, handsome,” she greeted me as her gaze travelled over my body.
“Shit,” I muttered, and started walking again. Our eyes met as I moved closer to her, and as much as I was irritated she was here – teasing me with that body made for pleasure - I couldn’t deny the warmth in her eyes. And I sure as fuck couldn’t deny how good it made me feel.
When I reached her, I slowed. “What are you doing here?” I asked, knowing the words came out all wrong, but unable to put them a better way.
Hurt flashed in her eyes. “That’s not a nice way to greet someone, Griff,” she said softly, and she was right. But I was an asshole who had no desire to make a woman want me, so nice wasn’t anything I strived for anymore.
I watched her for a few more minutes, and then turned my gaze to the kitchen, looking for Josie. Time to do what I came here for and then get the hell out.
Josie sat at her kitchen table with her leg resting on a chair, an ice pack on her ankle. A huge smile plastered across her face. “Michael,” she welcomed me.
I narrowed my eyes on her as I moved closer to her. “I thought something had happened to you, Josie.”
She gestured at her ankle. “It did. I hurt my ankle.”
“How?” I demanded, struggling to believe her.
Sophia had joined us in the kitchen and stood near Josie, watching me with disapproval. I did my best to ignore her, but – goddamn – I found myself not wanting her reproach.
Josie now waved her hand in front of her. “Oh, you know, I tripped down the stairs.”
I raised my brows. “And then you just happened to walk back up those stairs to phone me?”
“When I got here, she was in a fair bit of pain,” Sophia said, her tone full of the same disapproval as her gaze.
My eyes snapped to hers. “And you just happened to come over at the same time that she hurt herself?”
She placed her hands on her hips and stood taller, causing her breasts to jiggle. Her fucking perfect handful that she’d stretched a sexy pink tank over today. My eyes dropped momentarily to take all that in before shifting back to her face. Displeasure now filled her features. “She called me and asked for my help if you must know,” she retorted.
Fuck, I knew it.
I clenched my jaw as I turned my attention to Josie. “Whatever ideas and plans you’ve got going on in your head need to end now, Josie. I love you, but I don’t take kindly to people interfering in my life, regardless of good intentions.” I fought to keep my voice even, but my reaction had been extreme, and I struggled to maintain my cool. Fuck knew why, and I didn’t have the time to analyse it; all I knew in that moment was my need for Josie to know not to meddle in my life.
Disappointment marred her face. “Michael, please - ”
Fuck, now I’d upset both of them. I raked my fingers through my hair and blew out a long breath. Looking at Sophia, I asked, “You got this?”
Her eyes widened. “Yes, but you’re not really going to leave, are you? She’s hurt and wanted you here.”
“No, she wanted both of us here, and not for her ankle, sweetheart. If you’ve got this, I’ve gotta get back to work.”
I waited for her reply, and after glaring at me for a good few moments, she said, “I’ve got this.” Her tone made it clear how pissed off with me she was, but I ignored that.
“I’ll drop by and see you later,” I said to Josie, and ignoring that she was upset with me, too, I turned and stalked out of the house.
I was almost to my bike when Sophia called out angrily, “You’re seriously going to go?”
Spinning around, I stalked to where she stood. “Josie is a matchmaker, Sophia, and she’s trying to get us together. It’s what she does, and that’s what today has been about. She knows I’m not interested so she’s trying her hand at getting me to change my mind. I don’t usually lose my cool like that, but I’ve got too much stuff going on at work today to have been called away, so yeah, I lost my shit. I’ll come back and apologise to her later when I’ve calmed down.” I took a breath and then added, “Don’t let the old lady charm fool you; she may be putting on a good show of looking upset, but she’s not. You can bet your ass she’s sitting in there right now plotting her next move.”
Staring at me, she looked like she’d had the wind knocked out of her, which made no sense to me because, although I’d been firm, I hadn’t been an ass. She took a minute, and then said, “Okay, I’ve got you. Message understood, loud and clear. But one question – why does she call you Michael?”
You can run but you can never escape your past.
“It’s my name. Griff’s a nickname – one I prefer to be called so please call me that.”
When she raised her hands in a defensive type gesture, I realised I’d probably been more forceful than I’d meant to be. “By the looks of it, we probably won’t cross each other’s path too often for me to fuck that up, but I’ll do my best to get it right,” she snapped, and then turned and stalked back inside Josie’s house.
I watched her go, feeling something I hadn’t felt for fuck knew how long.
Regret.
And that confused me.
And for some reason, it also hurt.
7
Sophia
As my hand flew over the page, adding lines here and shading there, my drawing came to life. I’d been sitting in my art room listening to Kelly Clarkson on repeat for the last hour, doodling with no plan to sketch anything, when my hand began moving of its own accord. My sketches often took shape that way.
When I realised who I was sketching, my hand stilled, and I sucked in a breath. I dropped the sketchpad onto the desk.
Damn.
I stood and stretched. It’d been another long day at work, with a break in the middle to go and help Josie. A break to go and hear Griff tell me he was far from interested in me. A shitty day all round, really. Who had I been kidding even thinking a man as good-looking as Griff would be interested in me? Better to hear straight from his lips now how uninterested he was than to kid myself and keep flirting with him, hoping he might feel the same way.
I padded into the kitchen in search of wine. Opening the fridge, I came to the sad realisation I was out. Bugger. I pulled the diet coke out instead, and then r
eached up into the cupboard where I stored my bourbon. A few moments later, I lifted a glass of bourbon and coke to my lips and enjoyed the taste of it going down.
Walking to the kitchen table, I placed the glass down and walked back to my art room to grab my sketchpad. Turned out I did want to finish that sketch.
Two hours later, after a few more glasses of bourbon, I’d finished my sketch, painted my toenails bright red, baked some shortbread, surfed Facebook for a while and now sat on my couch with a mask on my face.
Christmas Eve.
Not only had today been long, shitty and disappointing, it was also Christmas Eve – a day I always struggled with. A person could have all the friends under the sun, but when they didn’t have a family to call their own, there were some days that just sucked. Birthdays and Christmas tended to be the worst. I’d called Magan earlier, hoping she might have wanted to come over, but her phone had gone straight to message bank, and she hadn’t called me back.
I sat on the couch and finished another glass of bourbon before deciding it was time to take my mask off. As I stood to head into the bathroom, a knock on the front door surprised me. A spark of hope flared in my heart – perhaps Magan had decided to come over. After all, it was just after ten; who else would knock on my door at that time of night?
When I peered through the front window to make sure I did in fact know the person, my heart skipped a beat when I saw Griff standing on the other side of the door. And then I remembered his words from today and I pushed that feeling deep down. She knows I’m not interested so she’s trying her hand at getting me to change my mind. Yeah, he’d made himself clear. However, I figured he visited his aunt often enough that we’d see each other around, and just because he wasn’t interested in me didn’t mean we couldn’t be friendly to each other.
I opened the door and greeted him with a smile. “This is late. Everything okay?”
He stared at me for a moment, as if I’d surprised him, before saying, “Yeah, everything’s okay. Can I come in for a moment?”
Stepping aside, I waved him in. “Sure.”
I closed the door and followed him into my kitchen. The bourbon buzzed through my body, causing my tongue to loosen. “If you’ve come to tell me again how uninterested in me you are, you don’t need to; I understood it the first time.”
His brows pulled together as he frowned at me. He didn’t say anything, just stared at me like I was a freak with three heads. And suddenly, I remembered I had a facemask on.
“Shit,” I muttered. “Can you give me a moment? I’ll just take my mask off and then I’ll be back.” Without waiting for his reply, I scurried into the bathroom and quickly removed the mask.
When I returned to the kitchen, he stood at the table with my sketchpad in his hands. Mortification flooded me as I realised what he was looking at. The sketch of him I’d done earlier.
Can this day get any worse?
Choosing to ignore the sketch, I walked past him into my kitchen and grabbed the bourbon and diet coke, and poured myself another drink. Double strength, because at this point, I needed it. Stat.
I was so engrossed in my drink and shoving my embarrassment aside that I didn’t hear him move next to me. The first I knew he was there was when he placed his hand over mine that was holding the bottle. His touch sent jolts of electricity through me, and my legs wobbled a little as I tried to keep my balance.
Oh, God.
This man.
“How do you figure I’m not interested in you?” he asked, his voice all deep and gravelly, just the way I loved it.
I stilled. My breathing slowed as anticipation flowed through me. I looked up at him. “You said as much today at Josie’s.”
“No, I didn’t.”
Had he suffered some kind of memory loss this afternoon?
“Yeah, you did, Griff.”
His gaze remained steady on mine. “When?”
“You said Josie knew you weren’t interested in me and that she was trying to get you to change your mind.”
He took a deep breath and his chest rose and fell with a hard thud. His hand slid off mine to take hold of the bottle, and he reached for an empty glass out of my dish rack. A few moments later, he’d poured himself a bourbon, neat. As he took a long gulp, his gaze found mine again, and I caught heat there.
“I am as far from uninterested in you as a man can get, Sophia.”
“Oh.” He’d caught me off guard with such an honest, straight-to-the-point statement, and words failed me. Excitement snaked through me, though, and I let that sink in. This gorgeous man standing in front of me, in my house, was interested in me.
“But, I don’t date,” he said, and in four words, obliterated everything he’d just given me. A man who didn’t date meant one thing – he only wanted sex.
I lifted my glass to my lips and drank some before saying, “Is that what you came here to tell me? Because I’m not really sure what to do with that, handsome. I’m as far from the kind of girl who settles for one-night-stands as a woman can get.”
“Yeah, I figured that. And no, that’s not what I came here to say. I actually wanted to apologise to you for acting like a prick today. I was in the middle of a shit of a day, and Josie knows how to push my buttons. I love her, but goddamn, she can push me to places that make me act like an asshole, and I’m sorry for that.”
“I can appreciate that. And I can totally understand how a bad day affects you because I’ve been having a few of those lately, too.” I paused before saying, “Apology accepted.”
He seemed surprised, and didn’t say anything more before finishing his drink.
“Do you always use your words so economically?” I asked, a little frustrated because I was the kind of woman who liked conversation.
He finished off his drink and then gave me his eyes. God, those eyes were full of secrets and depth and hurt. I was sure of it. Something about Griff screamed damage. Perhaps it was the way he watched you – as if he was always assessing a threat – or maybe it was the way he held himself back – not only his words, but he also held his body as if he didn’t want to get too close; didn’t want to get burned. “I’ve never met a woman like you. You’re like this odd combination of all woman – in the way you seem to suffer from female insecurities that, in my opinion, aren’t warranted, and in the way you have this sexy-as-fuck way you move and talk – but then you’ve got this other side where you speak with honesty in a way a lot of women I’ve known don’t,” he finally said, taking my breath away with his own honesty.
I smiled. “So that would be a “no” in answer to my previous question.”
The corners of his mouth lifted as if he was going to smile, but he didn’t. Instead, he simply said, “Correct. Sometimes I have a lot to say, but not often. Mostly, I find people aren’t interested so much in what other people have to say; they’re more interested in the sound of their own voice, and only want to hear yours if you’re agreeing with what they’re saying.”
I grinned. “For the record, handsome, I like the sound of your voice more than the sound of my own, so feel free to talk as much as you want around me. I’m all ears.”
He stared at me. “Fuck.”
I cocked my head to the side. “I’ll take that as a good ‘fuck’ rather than a bad one, shall I?”
He raked his fingers through his hair and grimaced. “I’m not sure yet, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart.
I could get used to him calling me that.
He’s already told you he doesn’t date.
“Why don’t you date?” The words were out before I could censor them. Damn alcohol.
He didn’t skip a beat. “Why don’t you do one-night stands?”
“Shit, you sure know how to turn a question back on a woman,” I noted. “But seriously, the commonly accepted thing for people to do is date, so what’s caused you to stop?”
“Is it the commonly accepted thing to do, or is that just what they sell you in the movies and TV?”<
br />
I frowned. “I’m pretty sure it’s the accepted thing.”
He shrugged. “In my world, nothing is commonly accepted except for the belief in each to his own. I don’t do things just because society tells me to. The world’s too fucked up to even begin to know what’s best for me. I say, figure out what shit works for you, then do that, and fuck what anyone else has to say about it.”
For a man of few words, he was giving me a lot tonight. And I never wanted him to stop speaking because I loved everything coming out of his mouth. Griff was the kind of man who, even if I didn’t agree with something he said, I could appreciate the thought and time he’d put into it. And I could respect the hell out of a man like that.
“I take it you’re not going to share with me why you don’t date, then?” I asked, still wanting to know his reason.
He reached for the bourbon and poured us both a drink - his neat, mine with diet coke. As he slid my glass to me, he said, “I’m more interested to know why you don’t like one-night stands.” He threw back half his drink and waited for me to speak.
I passed him the bottle of bourbon while I picked up my glass and the coke. “I need to sit for this conversation,” I said, and turned to walk into the living room.
I settled myself at one end of the couch and watched as he joined me, taking a seat at the other end. Keeping himself as far from me as he could. “Do you have family, Griff? I mean, I know you have your aunt, but do you have a family who love you and care for you and make you feel special?”
He blinked rapidly and sucked in a deep breath. When he put his drink to his mouth and downed what he had left, I figured I’d hit a nerve. “Not anymore,” he said, his voice hard, his body just as rigid.
Shit, I hadn’t expected that, but I figured he wasn’t the kind of man who would want me to dwell on his admission, so I carried on. “You did once, though?”
“Yes.”
I drank some of my drink, swallowing the alcohol and the shitty memories that reared their ugly heads. “I never have. Well, not unless you count the few years I had with my parents when I was younger, but I don’t count those years because I was too young to remember them, let alone for them to mean anything. All I had was the foster care system from the age of nine, and let me tell you, there wasn’t any love or care or being made to feel special in that system.”
