Griffin eased open the side door and stepped inside. The house was silent. There wasn't even a light on under the kitchen door. Damn. He knew he'd spent too long at the store. Norm had started telling stories about the town, and Griffin was pretty sure he'd still have been there if Ophelia hadn't come downstairs in a cotton nightgown and given Norm a come-hither look that had gotten the old man off his chair in a hurry.
He grinned, recalling the look on Norm's face when his seventy-one-year-old bride had walked out on the porch in her sleeveless nightgown. Oh, yes, there wasn't going to be any sleeping in the living quarters above Wright's tonight.
Or at Clare's house, hopefully.
Griffin strode down the hallway, not bothering to turn on the lights. The moon was casting white beams through the windows, breaking up the darkness of the house. And Griffin knew exactly where to step, as if he'd already claimed the place as his own.
He reached the end of the hall and instead of turning toward his room, he headed toward the white door that protected Clare from the world. He strode up to the door and reached for the doorknob.
And then, with the knob half-turned, he stopped, Ophelia's words echoing through his head. Her warning about Clare's vulnerability to him.
He would be leaving as soon as he got his daughter back. Did he really have a right to turn Clare's life upside down?
He didn't.
He should leave her alone.
But his whole body recoiled at the idea of walking away from that door. He wanted to see her. He wanted to connect with her. He wanted Clare.
But he owed her the chance to say no.
Griffin released the doorknob, and instead he lightly rapped his knuckles against the door. One signal was all he needed. One tiny sign that she was on board. That last night hadn't been the mistake she'd claimed it was this morning.
But there was no sound from the room.
Griffin tilted his head toward the door, listening intently as he knocked again.
No sound. Not a creak of a floorboard. Not a squeak of a mattress spring.
Shit. Was she asleep? Or lying there awake, waiting for him to take the initiative? "Clare," he called out quietly. "You up?"
No reply.
Griffin swore and leaned his forehead against the door, his hand resting loosely against the knob as he warred with the urge to throw that door open, invade her space and lose himself in the respite she gave him. "I'll give you tonight, Clare," he finally said. "But I'll be back."
He blew a kiss at the door, and then gave her space.
For now.
By two o'clock the next afternoon, Griffin was pretty sure he was going to lose his mind. He had three goals: Brooke, Clare and his new business, and he couldn't do a damn thing about any of them.
Phillip was doing follow-up on In Your Face, and further action had to wait until they had the additional information.
Brooke: waiting mode.
And Clare? She'd been out of the house before he'd gotten up, and he'd intentionally been up and in the kitchen by six. A trip to Wright's hadn't revealed her, and she hadn't been in her office. It had been more than twenty-four hours since the kiss, and he hadn't been able to follow up. Seal the deal. Assess her state of mind. He was hamstrung, hog-tied and restless as hell.
Inaction was not his forte.
Three things. All of them on hold. And without another business to run, he didn't have a single thing to do with his day. Was this what retirement would be like? Nothing to do? Why in God's name would any man want to retire?
He'd split and stacked all the firewood he'd found in Clare's backyard.
He'd been up on the roof to inspect the damage, and found it was as extensive as she'd claimed.
And he'd even folded his clothes and put them in the dresser in his room.
What the hell did people do who didn't work all day?
Griffin braced his palms on the window frame and peered out his bedroom window. Woods. Grass. Flowers. A trickle of vehicles heading past the house. His truck was sitting in the driveway, the only brand new vehicle he'd seen. But it didn't look new anymore. It fit right in, thoroughly covered in mud and dirt.
He could wash it, he supposed. He hadn't washed his own car in twenty years, but he hadn't seen any sign of a car wash in town. He laughed softly to himself as he headed toward the back door. Norm would probably think it was great he was washing his own truck—
"Mom!" The side door swung open and Katie raced past him into the house, throwing her backpack to the floor with a crash. She was wearing jeans and a shirt that was tighter than Griffin thought a fifteen-year-old should be wearing, just like Brookie liked to wear.
"Mom!" She sounded frantic as she raced down the hall, running into Clare's room.
Upon finding it empty, she screeched in frustration, and then came running back down the hall toward Griffin. Tears were streaming down her face, and he realized she was crying. Shit.
"Hey." Griffin caught her as she tried to run past him to the stairs. "She's not here, Katie."
Katie stared at him, as if she hadn't even noticed him standing there. "Where is she? I have to talk to her." Her lower lip was trembling, and she looked devastated.
Protectiveness surged through Griffin as he gripped her shoulders. "What's wrong? Who hurt you?" Son of a bitch. He'd go bust ass—
"No one! Let me go! I need my mom!" Katie tried to pull free as a fresh sob spilled from her.
"She's not here." Something snapped inside Griffin at the sight of those tears, and he softened his grip and rubbed her shoulders. "Tell me what's wrong, Katie. Maybe I can help."
She gazed at him through teary blue eyes that were so much like her mother's. "Jeremy just wants to be friends," she sobbed.
"The naked guy?" Oh, shit. This was about dating stuff? He'd been ready to go out and take down someone who'd tossed her against the side of a bus or stolen her favorite bracelet. Kissing and boys was not what he was equipped to handle.
"Yes!" Katie began to cry again. "He kissed me on the mountain, you know?"
"Yeah, okay." Griffin looked around, trying to find something to give to her. A box of tissue was sitting on the front hall table, so he grabbed it and held it out to her. "Here."
"So, Jeremy's been avoiding me all week, you know?" Katie took a tissue and plunked herself down on the bottom stair, clearly deciding that he was going to have to suffice to help her through this crisis.
Now that he knew it was about boys, however, Griffin wasn't so sure he wanted the green light. "I didn't know, but now I do." Griffin hesitated, then he eased himself down beside her. Where the hell was Clare? This was mom territory. "Boys can be bastards. I mean..." Hell. "Boys can be jerks."
Katie blew her nose, making a noise that sounded like a goose on a bender. Shit. Since when could someone that small make a noise that big? "So, today, after school, on the bus ride home," she sniffled, "he didn't even sit with me. We always sit together, ever since second grade." She held out the dirty tissue to Griffin. "Here. Can I have another one?"
Griffin stared at the snot-laden tissue as she set it in his hand, but he said nothing and simply held up the tissue box. "Just because he didn't sit with you doesn't mean anything. Boys do weird things when they like a girl."
"That's what Sara said." Katie blew her nose again. Again with the noise. "So, I went and sat with him, and I asked him why he was avoiding me."
Griffin grimaced. "Didn't go well?"
She looked at him, great big tears sliding down her cheeks. "He said the only reason he kissed me was because he thought we were going to die, and he didn't want to die without having kissed a girl. So, he kissed me because I was the girl standing closest to him."
"Oh, hell." Son of a bitch. He wanted to take that kid and... He took a deep breath and put his arm around Katie. "He's a scum-sucking pig, then."
Katie stared at him in disgust. "A scum-sucking pig? That's so old school."
Griffin raised his brows. "Then what is he?"
/>
"An asshole."
Griffin burst out laughing. "Well, I agree, but I was trying not to taint your innocent ears."
Katie gave him a tentative smile. "I'm not that innocent."
"Innocent enough." Griffin paused, trying to think of what to say. "Sometimes, men, and boys, aren't that good at expressing their feelings. Or even understanding them. We're kind of impaired that way."
Katie leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. Protectiveness surged through him, and he kissed the top of her head.
"Jeremy was pretty clear about his feelings." She blew her nose again and sniffled.
"Well, yeah, but what he said might not have been how he really feels. Even if he thinks he's going to die, a guy isn't going to kiss a girl unless he's attracted to her. We're shallow that way."
Katie lifted her head to look at him. Her eyelashes were clumped together from the tears, and her face looked so vulnerable and fragile. "So, you think he likes me?"
Oh, shit. He didn't want to give her false hope. "I'm pretty certain he thinks you're beautiful, or he would never have kissed you."
A smile worked its way onto Katie's tear-stained cheeks. "Really?"
"Yes." He thumbed the tears off her cheeks. "But that doesn't mean that he's ready to date you."
Her face crumpled. "Oh."
"No, it's a good thing." Griffin's chest tightened at Katie's anguish. Damn. He had no skills at this. Hillary had always taken the crises with Brooke. But he couldn't walk away from Katie. The kid had no one else. He had to figure it out. "You can continue to be his friend," he said slowly, stalling for time while he tried to think of what might make Katie feel better. "But as his friend, you can sit there smugly, knowing that he's thinking about how beautiful you are, and remembering that kiss. He's longing for you, Katie, and you have all the power."
Katie stared at him, and he saw a thoughtful look dawning. "I'm not sure that makes sense, but I like the idea of me having the power."
"Power is good," he agreed.
"Huh." Katie looked down at the shredded tissue in her hands. "I still feel stupid for liking him."
"Yeah, well, we all feel that way sometimes."
She gave him a skeptical look that only a teenager would be able to muster with such effectiveness and disdain. "When have you ever felt stupid about something you did? Or for liking someone who didn't like you back?"
Oh, shit. He was supposed to come up with an answer for that?
"See? You didn't." She stood up and started to walk up the stairs. "Nice try, Griffin, but—"
"I felt stupid when I walked in my condo after work and discovered my wife and daughter had left me, and I'd had no idea it was coming." Yeah, he'd felt stupid right about then. How in God's name had he not seen it coming? How had he lost control of his family? The list of ways he'd felt stupid that night was pretty damn long.
Katie paused, studying him intently. "That's really what happened?"
"Hell, yeah."
She gave him a contemplative look. "That's even worse than having Jeremy tell me he just wants to be friends."
"This is true." He realized that she believed him, and something tightened in his chest at the fact that there was a person in this world, a girl the same age as his daughter, who believed him.
She leaned on the banister. "Then why did Brooke tell me you left them?"
Griffin sighed and leaned back, resting his elbows on the next stair. "I don't know."
"Maybe you should ask her."
Griffin laughed softly. "I'll consider that, next time we chat."
Katie nodded, her face serious. "My mom says that it's always best to talk instead of being mad in silence. We always talk it out."
"You're mom's a smart lady."
Katie smiled, a real smile. "She's cool, isn't she?"
"Yeah." Griffin hesitated, thinking of all the weight on Clare's shoulders as she tried to manage things. She'd taken care of him when he'd had his nightmare, and he owed her a little relief. Now that Katie wasn't treating him like a pariah, maybe he had a shot. "You know, I attended that MIT summer program when I was a sophomore."
Katie's smile faded, and she folded her arms over her chest. "Now, you're on my case, too?"
"I'm not on anyone's case. It's your life. But I just wanted you to know that I went, and it was the best summer I'd ever had. I loved being away from home, the kids were cool, and I enjoyed the work." He shrugged. "Might not be that bad."
"Yeah, I guess it might not." She sighed and sat down on the step below him. Her shoulder was leaning against his knee, and he realized he'd passed her test, whatever that was. He was no longer hated, and he realized that felt good. It was a relief, quite honestly. "But I want to stay here."
He sensed that was more than a casual desire. "And do what?"
Katie's eyes shifted away from him. "You won't tell my mom?"
Shit. How could he make that promise when he didn't know her answer? He was getting way over his head here. How did parents respond to that kind of question? "What do you want to do?" He settled for not giving her an answer, and hoping she didn't notice.
It worked.
Katie's eyes gleamed as she turned to face him. "I want to stay here and do the Shakespeare Festival." A huge smile broke across her face. "It comes every year, and all these actors and actresses come from all over the North East. They do performances all summer, and it's one of the biggest tourist attractions in the region."
Well, damn. He hadn't seen that coming. That seemed pretty innocent to him. "You want to be an actress?"
"I don't know. I just want to do the festival. You have to be sixteen to work in it, and I'll be sixteen in May." She grinned. "That's how my dad met my mom, you know. He was in town for the festival, and they met and fell in love right away."
Griffin nodded, understanding now what she was doing. Trying to resurrect her father. "I think you should tell your mom about this." Having Katie trying to connect with her dead father by re-living the summer her parents had met was definitely something Clare needed to get involved in.
"No," Katie sighed. "She would make me go to MIT if she knew that's why I want to stay. I have to find a way to avoid MIT and not tell her I'm going to do the festival." She leveled a finger at him. "Don't you dare tell her!"
"I won't." He held up his hands in defense. He was honored Katie had confided in him, and he didn't want to break her trust. "I wouldn't recommend you lie to your mom, though. That won't go well. She seems like she's a pretty straight shooter." Which was one of the things he liked about Clare. She wouldn't fester in silence if she was upset with him, which meant that if she was kind to him, he could trust it. After Hillary's out-of-the-blue defection, Clare's honesty was like a bright ray of sunshine and relief. He knew Clare wouldn't disappear without warning. If she wasn't happy with him, she would let him know immediately, which meant he could trust her warmth when she gave it to him.
"I know." Katie sighed, her face sad again. "I'm sure I'll end up at MIT, so it won't even matter if I tell her or not."
A heavy silence fell between them, and Griffin shifted uncomfortably. How did one cheer up a fifteen-year-old girl? "I'm going to wash my truck now. Want to help?"
Katie gave him a disbelieving look. "Because that sounds like fun."
He shrugged, even as an idea came to him. It had been decades since he'd done it, but he knew one surefire way to make anyone smile, even a teenager sporting a broken heart. "Will you at least show me where the hose is?"
"Fine." Katie hauled herself to her feet and headed toward the door. "Come on, then."
Griffin stood up, grinning to himself. Did the girl have no understanding of what a car wash meant to teenagers?
Water fight on the way.
Chapter 13
It was supposed to be a casual drive-by to see if Griffin's truck was still at her house. A quick check to see whether it was safe to duck into her place for a snack and some yoga before heading back to the office after
her trip into Portland.
The phone call Clare had gotten last night had made her nervous, and by the time she'd finished with her meetings in Portland today, she'd been on edge like she hadn't been in a long time. She'd hoped it was going to go away. She'd prayed it wasn't going to transpire. But after today, it was clear. She was being sued for malpractice, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.
She felt like she was going to snap.
There was simply no more room for her to stretch, and she didn't know how she was going to make it. Right now, she needed to be away from everyone. She wanted to pull out the yoga mat she hadn't used in months, ground herself, and try to figure out what she was doing so wrong.
The last thing she had time for was dealing with Griffin. Please let his truck not be there.
But as she rounded the corner, she was dismayed to see the big, black truck parked in her driveway, covered in suds. Griffin was leaning over the hood, his muscles flexing as he rubbed it down. Didn't the man have a daughter to retrieve? But no, he wasn't off trying to track her down. He was at her house, in her driveway...washing his truck? Seriously? In a tee shirt? What was a man like that doing owning a tee shirt, let alone wearing one that revealed a bicep that was so sinfully tempting? Didn't he have a hundred businesses to buy? But there he was, soaping up the hood of his truck with one of her giant sponges, claiming her sanctuary as his own.
She ground her jaw as she hit the gas to drive past, but then she saw Katie sneaking around the side of the truck holding their garden hose. Clare frowned, easing up on the accelerator as Katie peered around the tailgate.
Griffin didn't look up, his muscles flexing as he worked on his truck.
Katie crept closer, and then she held up the hose and sprayed Griffin.
Clare slammed on the brakes, expecting Griffin to whirl around in outrage and shout at her daughter.
But he simply hurled the soapy sponge as Katie shrieked with delight and tried to retreat behind the truck. The sudsy sponge hit Katie in the back, and she screamed with laughter as she grabbed it and lobbed it back at Griffin. When Griffin looked up to snatch it out of the air, Katie sprayed him right in the face with the hose.
Unexpectedly Mine (Birch Crossing Book 1) Page 15
