That bit like hell, and he didn't like it. Not one bit. Probably because he knew she was right. As long as Clare had deemed him worthy, he'd held out hope, a thin, fragile, unraveling thread of hope that had been tied together by Norm and Jackson and the woman with the hungry infant.
But now that he knew Clare didn't believe in him anymore?
Shit.
If she didn't believe in him, who would?
"Griffin?" The back door opened and Katie came out on the back step. "Griffin!" She screeched with delight and raced down the steps toward him.
"Katie!" Her joyous welcome made him feel like a king, and he caught her as she threw herself at him. "It's so good to see you," he said. "I missed you." He'd been gone only for a few hours, but it felt like an eternity now that he was back. "I think you've grown since I last saw you."
"I missed you, too." She beamed up at him, and he saw the genuine happiness on her face.
Shit. She really had missed him? "Does your mom miss me?" The question snuck out before he could stop it, but once it was out, he wanted the answer. He wanted a yes.
But he didn't get one.
"She's mad at you." Katie's excitement faded, and those blue eyes narrowed in accusation. "You left. Why would you leave us?"
"I didn't—" He cut off his customary denial, the one he'd perfected whenever anyone had asked why he'd abandoned his wife and daughter. He understood now that he had left them, in some ways, but this time... driving away from Clare and Katie? That was really and truly leaving, and he would no longer deny responsibility. "Because I'm a jerk."
Katie laughed. "No, you're not. You just pretend you are." And he saw, in those blue eyes that were so much like Clare's, an acceptance of who he was. "Mom knows that," she added cagily, "even if she's pissed at you."
His fist tightened around his car keys. "Really?"
Katie nodded. "Yeah."
Griffin looked down the road to where Clare had driven. The street was empty. She wasn't coming back. But according to Katie... Was there really a possibility that Clare hadn't completely given up on him? He thought back to Clare's driving off. She'd waited a long time before turning away. Second thoughts?
Dammit. He wanted a chance.
But she'd made her choice when she'd driven off. He had to respect it—
Or did he?
Screw that. Clare didn't have the right to dismiss him. No one did. He didn't give a shit what anyone thought about him or his ability to make it happen outside the office. Not anymore. "I have to go." He set Katie back from him.
Katie's face crumpled. "You're not coming back, are you?"
He met her gaze. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "But I'm going to go find out." He got in the truck. "I'm going after your mom."
"Oh...you'll need good luck, then." Stepping back from the truck. Katie crossed her fingers and held them up. "She's feeling pretty hostile toward you."
"Yeah, but she loves me, too." Or she used to. If she still did... would it even be enough?
He decided to cross his own fingers, and he held up his hand, mimicking Katie's pose.
She grinned, and then he shifted into reverse. Gravel sprayed up as he peeled out of Clare's driveway, and he took off after the only woman that mattered.
Clare was crying so hard she could barely see the road, when bright headlights came barreling up behind her. The headlights blinded her, reflecting in the mirror, and she pulled over and slowed down. "Stupid driver," she shouted as it sped past her.
Then the offender careened in front of her, spraying up dirt as it cut her off.
"Hey!" She slammed on her brakes, and her car slid across the dirt toward the car. She screamed and held up her arms, bracing for impact, but her car stopped inches from the side of the vehicle. "Oh my God." She closed her eyes and leaned back, her whole body shaking. "It's okay, it's okay, it's okay—"
Her passenger door was ripped open, and she screamed as a dark body loomed beside her.
"What do you think you're doing, taking off on me?"
The deep voice was unmistakable. "Griffin?"
His familiar visage was in her car, and he was glaring at her.
"You jerk!" She punched his chest, fury rising fast inside her. "You could have gotten us killed!"
"I would never have endangered you." He caught her fist. "I gave you space to stop."
"Leave me alone!" It felt too good to have his hand on her. "Get away from me!" She tried to hit him again, desperate to make him leave.
But he just reached over her, unsnapped her seat belt and pulled her out of the car, completely ignoring her protestations. "Calm down," he said. "I need to talk to you."
"I don't want to hear it." She was out of the car now, and she could barely breathe under the impact of his presence. She'd been prepared to never see him again, to never be in his presence, to never feel the hugeness of his spirit and strength engulfing her.
She had not been remotely prepared to face all that again and still walk away. He looked beautiful and powerful and her heart cried for his embrace. "I really don't want to hear it," she repeated. "Please, just leave me alone."
Like the stubborn, arrogant man he was, he completely ignored her request. "I have a business decision I need to discuss with you."
A business decision? Seriously. She shook her head. "I can't—"
"You can." He took her hands then, ever so gently, and she almost started to cry again. "It will just take a minute."
"Griffin," she begged. "Please, let me go. I can't do this. I really can't. Just let me go."
He was silent for a moment, and at first she thought he was going to agree. As much as she had meant her words, the terror that seized her at the thought of him leaving nearly made her legs buckle. Griffin must have sensed it, because he swept her up in his arms and set her gently on the hood of her car.
The brief moment in his arms was too agonizingly short, and too agonizingly long, as it stirred up memories and longings and desires so powerful her body trembled.
Griffin braced his hands on either side of her hips and leaned into her space, boxing her in, overwhelming her with his presence.
She fisted her hands against the urge to touch him. To stroke her hands over his face one last time. To feel his mouth against hers one last time. To take whatever he could give, and deny her need for more. She deserved more, and she couldn't live with less.
"What do you need from me?" he asked.
She stared at him, totally confused by the question. "What?"
"What if I was like Jackson? What if I had a regular job and made a few hundred bucks a week? What if I couldn't buy you things? What if my truck was rusted? What if it was just me?"
"That's not you. You aren't regular." She pushed at his arms. "This is ridiculous. Let me go."
He didn't budge, but his eyes narrowed. "You said you loved me. Who did you love?"
She shook her head. "Oh, no, I'm not going there again—"
"Clare. I need to know. Tell me. Do you love the guy who has vast reserves in his bank account and an expensive truck? Or is there something else?"
She heard the urgency in his voice, the desperate plea, and she forced herself to look at him. His eyes were dark, and there was strain about his mouth. He didn't look like the confident businessman and she'd gotten to know. He was a man carrying the weight of a thousand lifetimes, a fierce warrior who was about to crack under the strain.
"Oh, Griffin." She set her hands on his face, unable to stop herself. His skin was warm, his whiskers prickly, and she recognized every curve on his jaw. "How many times do I need to tell you?" She put one hand on his chest, over his heart. "This is what I fell in love with. Your heart. That's it. Nothing else. Just this."
Griffin bowed his head, and his shoulders shook with emotion.
Clare kissed the top of his head, and then laid her cheek against his hair. It felt so right to be with him again. To hold him.
He wrapped his arms around her waist and held her, res
ting his face against her chest, almost like a small lost boy. Only he was a strong, powerful man, with a life and a future so enormous that he would never be able to stop long enough to fit her in.
She kissed his head again. "Griffin, I need to go home. Katie's waiting for me."
He lifted his head but didn't loosen his grip on her. "I'm the one who's been waiting for you, Clare. I need you."
"Oh, no." She pushed him back. "No."
Confusion flickered across his handsome face. "But you just said you loved me."
"I do, I do." She slipped under his arm and moved away from him, needing space. "But it was a lie."
His face hardened. "It was a lie that you loved me?"
"No! I would never lie about that, I swear!" Clare protested.
"Then what's the lie?"
"That I was okay with what we had." At his puzzled expression, she tried to explain. "I said I would take you for a few days, that whatever you could give me was enough, and I could let you go. But I can't do that." She hugged herself, the words breaking her in half. "I can't open my heart to you and know that your soul is calling you elsewhere. I can't take another day or another night with you, and know you're leaving or that your attention is two hundred miles south," she said softly. "I want the fairytale, and I can't accept anything less."
Griffin leaned against the hood of her car, his arms folded across his chest. "What's your fairytale, Clare? What do you wish for in your Prince Charming?"
"What do I wish for?" She looked up at the stars, at the way they lit up the sky. "That's what I wish for." She gestured to the expanse of twinkling darkness. "A love so huge and so powerful, that it sweeps across everything. It's always there. It's fuller than a heart can hold, so it spills out into the world and fills everything around it with more love. It's there when I fall asleep. It's there when I wake up." She met Griffin's gaze. "It's there every time I breathe in, every time I breathe out, and with every beat of my heart."
"That's it?"
She stared at him in disbelief. "That's a lot, Griffin. That's everything."
A slow, tremendous smile filled his lovely face, and he held out his hand. "Come."
She shoved her hands into her front pockets.
He laughed softly and dropped his hand. "Here's the thing, Clare. I don't know how to be a dad. I don't know how to be a husband. I've pretty much failed at both. I don't know when to hug or when to get ice cream in the middle of the night, or any of that."
Something began to stir inside her. Was it hope? No, no, not hope. Please not hope. She folded her arms over her chest and lifted her chin. "So, what's your point?"
"My point, Clare, is that there's one thing I can do. I didn't know I could, but you showed me that I can."
"And what's that?"
He met her gaze. "Love."
Tears filled her eyes. "No, don't, Griffin. I can't—"
He began walking toward her. "But you have to promise to believe in me. Because when you look at me like I'm this amazing man, I seem to do what's right. I know when to hold you, or when to tell you to toughen up. As long as you love me like that—"
"Stop it!" She scrambled backward as he reached for her. "I can't handle a man who wants to be somewhere else—"
"I don't want to be anywhere else."
She backed into the side of his ridiculous truck, and there was nowhere else to go as he approached her. "Griffin—"
"I want to be right here." He stopped in front of her. "I want to be with you. And Katie. And Brooke."
"But—"
"I don't want to go back to Boston," he said. "I don't want to go back to my condo." He took her hand and went down on his knee.
She stared at him. "Don't—"
"Clare Gray," he said. "I was dead when I came up here, and you opened my heart. A man would be a damned fool to walk away, and I am one of the smartest damn people I know."
"Please don't make promises you can't keep," she whispered. "Please. I can't let myself love you and then have you leave in six months. I can't do that."
"You don't have to." He tugged her hand, and she eased down to her knees in front of him. He held up his finger to tell her to wait, then he pulled his phone out of his pocket. He put it on speaker phone and then dialed. She saw from the display that he was calling his business partner.
"What—"
He pressed his finger to her lips as Phillip's voice slurred out into the night. "Griff? You down here already? I've got your seat all ready and a bottle of champagne waiting for you—"
"I'm out," Griffin said.
"Out of what?"
"In Your Face."
Clare sucked in her breath, certain she'd heard wrong. "What?"
"What?" Phillip said, all amusement gone. "What the hell are you talking about? We're signing papers in eight hours—"
"I'm staying in Birch Crossing. I'm going to marry Clare, I'm buying the local general store, and I'm going to learn how to be a dad to two teenage daughters." He looked at Clare. "And maybe have a son, too."
Phillip swore. "But—"
Griffin hung up and tossed the phone over his shoulder. He grinned. "So, yeah, don't say you won't marry me, because I've thrown away all my other options."
She was too stunned to react. "I don't understand. That's your dream."
"No." He took her hands. "You're my dream. What you bring into my life, that's my dream. I just didn't know how to get there, and you showed me the way. Marry me, Clare Gray. Marry me right now, so that neither of us has to go another moment without each other ever again."
She shook her head. "I can't."
He didn't seem to believe her, as he simply raised his eyebrows, and gathered her into his arms. "And why is that?"
"Because you never said you loved me. I can't marry a man who doesn't love me."
He smiled and stroked her hair back from her face. "My dear, sweet, Clare, I love you more than my heart can hold. I love you more than all the stars in the sky, and I love you for the beauty of your soul, the lightness of your spirit, and for the way my entire being comes alive when you focus those beautiful blue eyes on me and tell me that you love me."
And then he kissed her, the most beautiful, most magical, the most wonderful kiss that had ever been, and she knew that the young girl who had given up magical fantasies at age eighteen, had finally had her dreams come true.
"Yes," she whispered. "I will marry you."
Chapter 27
Norm's hat was exactly where it belonged.
Griffin grinned as he caught sight of one of the town's old timers setting a cold bottle of Birch's Best on Norm's stool beside his old, worn hat. In the month since Norm's passing, there had been a cold beer on that stool every minute of the day that Wright's was open.
As it should be.
Griffin shut the door to the storage room with his foot and walked into the main section of the store, holding the box he'd gone in there to retrieve.
Sam White, one of Norm's buddies, slammed his hand down on Griffin's shoulder. "Griff! Didya hear the news?"
Griffin grinned. "I sure did. Three baby loons from the pair by your place. It's been, what, eighteen years, since a nesting pair on this lake has had three chicks?"
"Nineteen years, Griff! Nineteen! It's a sign that new life is coming to the region, I'm telling you. You gotta come see them. It's a damned record." Sam leaned forward, his Pirates baseball cap askew on his head. "All the local artists are hanging out in my woods painting them. You should see this old gal." He waggled his bushy eyebrows, giving Griffin a lecherous look. "She may be close to seventy, but she's got a spring in her step enough to make an old man sit up and take notice." He raised his brows, vulnerability flashing in his weathered face. "You think I oughta go for it?"
Griffin grinned. "How many times has she come by to paint?"
"Been there every day for a week. She's done at least ten paintings so far."
Griffin raised his brows. "Sam. How many paintings of the same damn birds d
oes she have to do before you figure it out?"
The older man's eyes widened, and then he got a big shit-eating grin on his wrinkled face. "You think?"
"I do." Griffin jerked his head toward the deli. "Ophelia!"
His deli manager waved a spatula at him, a hot pink scarf from Astrid tied in her hair. It was a new look for her, but Astrid had insisted that Ophelia could pull it off, and she'd been right. It seemed to give Ophelia even more attitude than she used to have, and he was damned glad to see the exuberance shining in her eyes. The woman's inner strength was awe-inspiring, and the whole town had rallied around her. The gal hadn't spent an evening alone in her apartment in the last month, and she was getting a killer reputation around the bridge table. "Your omelet's coming, Griffin, and you're getting ham this time. You're too damn skinny!"
Griffin didn't bother to argue. It was an argument he knew he'd never win. "Sam needs to go woo a girl. Can you put together a picnic basket for him?"
Ophelia whistled loudly. "That old coot is too ornery to fit a woman in his life, but if it gets him out of our hair, then it's worth a try." She gestured at him. "Get over here, Sam, and tell me about her so I can set you up right."
Sam slugged Griffin on the shoulder, straightened the collar of his tee shirt, and then hauled ass across the crowded store toward the deli.
Griffin grinned, then headed back toward the register. He set the carton on the counter in front of Heather Burns, the woman he'd gotten formula for that night a month ago when Norm had died. "Joey is in size three diapers now, right?"
Heather smiled at him, her face so much less stressed than it had been that night. "I was just going to ask you to order size threes!"
Griffin winked as he rang up her order. "Harry told me that the size twos were getting tight, so I figured you'd need them soon. It was easy to toss them into my order last week."
"You're the best." She blew him a kiss as she hurried out of the store, her arms full.
The line of customers taken care of for the moment, Griffin did what had become such habit over the last month and checked out the table in the corner. The familiar sight filled him with such a sense of rightness.
Unexpectedly Mine (Birch Crossing Book 1) Page 32
