Written in Ink (Montgomery Ink #4)

by Carrie Ann Ryan

  Of course, he couldn’t ignore the drawn look on his mother’s face. He knew she wasn’t sleeping as well as she once had. She couldn’t. Not with the love of her life in pain next to her. But things were looking up. At least that’s what they told him. He had to pray they wouldn’t cushion the blow if things went to hell. He was stronger than that. At least, he hoped he was.

  “Have you heard anything from Alex?” Griffin asked finally, his hands around his glass. The condensation slid over his fingers, and he tightened his grip. He remembered the last time he’d seen his brother, the mad edge to Alex’s eyes. He could still hear the sound of glass breaking as Alex screamed and raged. He’d ended Miranda and Decker’s wedding early, his personal demons too much for any one person to bear. Only Griffin didn’t know what had driven Alex to drink. No one did.

  Harry let out a breath. “Yes, he finally let us talk to him over the phone.”

  Griffin carefully set his glass down and met his father’s eyes. “And?”

  “And he’s staying in rehab, at least for the time being,” his dad said softly. “I think he’s finding the help he needs. Finally.”

  Griffin closed his eyes and let out a breath. His baby brother hurt, and yet there was nothing Griffin could do for him. Once Alex got out, he hoped there was a way he could help, but he wasn’t sure.

  “One step at a time, darling,” Marie whispered. She cleared her throat, her voice louder when she added, “He’ll come home when he needs to. And, hopefully, he’ll let us visit him. He might think he’s alone—at least that’s what I got from that phone call—but we’re Montgomerys. We don’t leave each other behind, no matter how hard we try to push each other away.”

  Griffin smiled despite himself. Yeah, that sounded about right. He took another sip of his lemonade and nodded. “He can’t get rid of us that easily.”

  “Damn straight,” his father agreed.

  After they’d finished their meal and said their goodbyes, Griffin headed back home, his stomach full and his mind a bit fuller. He knew he had to work since he hadn’t written a word that morning and had spent his afternoon with his parents. But he always had to work. The resentment that came with that thought didn’t make him feel any better.

  When he pulled into his driveway, he didn’t see the growingly familiar car that belonged to Autumn. He wasn’t sure why he’d expected her to be there since he hadn’t been home, but it was hard to ignore the pang of disappointment when he realized that she wasn’t there.

  It had been four days since he’d seen her at the tattoo shop. Four days of them working together in his home in silence. She cleaned, shopped, and kept him fed.

  She’d yet to venture into his office to actually help with his work.

  He had a feeling she would have done it sooner if he hadn’t been such an asshole. Only it was fucking hard to not be an asshole sometimes. He rested his forehead against the steering wheel and let out a curse. He needed help.

  He knew that.

  It didn’t mean he had to be goddamn happy about it.

  With another deep breath, he got out of his car and made his way to the front door. As soon as he opened it, he knew he’d been wrong. The scent of soup and freshly baked bread assaulted his scenes, and his previously full stomach growled. Autumn’s light floral scent mixed with the hearty smell of food and his cock hardened.

  Down boy.

  It was weird that she would be there when he wasn’t. He knew she had a key thanks to his ever-annoying and loving sisters, but he wasn’t sure she’d actually use it. He also hadn’t left a note saying where he would be since she hadn’t been there when he’d left earlier. It wasn’t as if he should have thought about it, really. She didn’t live with him.

  She worked for him.

  Or at least tried to.

  Autumn bounced into the living room and froze when she saw him. She had a basket of laundry under one arm and her phone in the other.

  “Oh, you’re home.”

  He closed the door behind him without looking, his gaze on her instead. She wore some kind of long dress today that hugged her curves without making her look like she’d tried for that effect. In fact, it looked as if she’d gone for comfort instead. He wasn’t sure that she could ever hide her curves, the sexiness of her presence. Her breasts here high, larger than his palms, and damn it, he wanted to hold them, squeeze them, learn the feel and shape of her nipples…find out the color and taste.

  But he wouldn’t do that, of course.

  He was a professional—even if he didn’t always act like it.

  He pulled his gaze from her breasts and caught the blush of her cheeks. Fuck. He wasn’t handling this well. Instead of apologizing like he should, considering that would just make it even more awkward with the two of them standing there, he cleared his throat.

  “I didn’t see your car.”

  She nodded, her eyes trailing down his body. When she stopped at his groin area, he did all in his power not to adjust himself. He knew his dick pressed against his zipper, could feel it even, but he didn’t want her to know he saw her staring.

  Damn it.

  “My car wouldn’t start.” A shadow passed over her face and he wondered what that was about. He always wondered about her expressions, wondered about her. “Meghan dropped me off. She said she’d pick me up or send Luc if you can’t take me home.” She winced. “Sorry for being a pain.”

  He shook his head. “Not your fault your car won’t start. I’ll take you home when you’re ready.” He put his hands in his pockets; aware he’d just forced her gaze to his dick again. “Just let me know. And do you need someone to check out your car? Or at least get you to the shop?”

  She shook her head. “I’ll take care of it. I just couldn’t this morning.” She paused. “But thank you.”

  “Okay then.”

  “Okay.”

  They stared at each other for at least a minute in awkward silence. He had no idea what to say next, what to do. He was a goddamn adult, and yet he couldn’t voice his thoughts. He should at least move away and sit down at his computer or something. That had to be better than staring at her like a lustsick fool.

  “I was just finishing laundry,” Autumn finally said.

  “I can see that.” He pulled his hand out of his pocket and gestured toward the basket. “Uh, can I help?”

  She blinked at him. “No, I’ve got it.” She smiled wryly then. “Of course, if you had done your laundry to begin with, we wouldn’t be in this situation, and I might not have a job.”

  He snorted, thankful she’d broken the ever-increasing tension. “Got it. Well…I guess I’ll go to my office.”

  She smiled then, and he had to swallow hard at the beauty of it. He had no idea where that thought had come from, and he wasn’t exactly comfortable with it.

  “Sounds like a plan. I know you ate at your folks’ house—that’s what Meghan said at least—but if you’re hungry, I put beef and barley soup in the Crock-Pot, and since you had a bread maker, I made a loaf of sourdough.”

  Again his mouth watered. “I have a bread maker?”

  Autumn rolled her eyes. “Yes, you do. I had to clean it out since it wasn’t in the box, but it still had the plastic and cardboard inside the base unit.”

  “Oh. That’s cool. I’m stuffed, but that smells damn good, so maybe in a couple hours.”

  She smiled again, and he had to blink. “That’s what I figured. So, yeah, you go into your office and write. I’ll finish laundry. Once I’m done, though, do you think I can venture into your writing cave and work on your book bible?”

  He frowned. “I already have a book bible.”

  She nodded. “That’s what your editor said.”

  His brows rose. “You talked to my editor?”

  She nodded again, this time her gaze lowered. “Yeah, she, uh, emailed me today. She was talking to Maya, and Maya mentioned me.”

  Griffin closed his eyes. Damn his sisters. He knew his editor wouldn’t say anythi
ng about deadlines or anything confidential, but her being friends with Maya wasn’t his favorite thing in the world.

  “Okay, I guess. But if she said I already have a book bible, why are you going to work on it?”

  She finally set down the laundry basket, and he could have kicked himself for not helping her as he’d helped his mother with the tray earlier. Autumn just put him off balance, and he wasn’t sure how to work with that.

  She let out a breath and stared at him. “I read you, Griffin. Did I tell you that before?”

  He wasn’t sure, but he liked the fact that she read him. It also left him a bit bare at the thought. “I don’t remember.”

  She waved a hand. “It’s no matter. But I read you. I actually like your books, Griffin.”

  He filled with pride, but he still didn’t say anything.

  “And as someone who enjoys your work, I want to make sure you can focus. That’s why I’m here. So I’m going to take your bible and see what I can do with it. You shouldn’t have to do everything. You should be able to look at your book bible and glean what you need from it and just continue on. I want you to be able to know that everything you need will be in there and that it will be organized so you don’t have to worry. Do you have every single side character ever in your books? Do you have the color of a random dress from page seventy that might be important in the next book? Because that’s what I can help with. If you can just focus, maybe that would help.”

  He knew what was helping, even if he was too tired and too stubborn to admit it.

  Her.

  Autumn.

  Her presence alone was helping him write and it killed him. He’d written more in the past few days with just her near him than he had in the past two months. He didn’t know if it was because she’d cleaned and cooked, or if it was for a far deeper reason that he’d rather not think about now, if ever.

  And if she could take part of the admin work he’d been ignoring for far too long away from him, then maybe that would help, too. He loved his fans, his readers. He knew they were the reason he was able to do something he loved. The fact he didn’t love it right then didn’t mean he didn’t love it at all. It was a love/hate relationship that made his writer brain usually yearn for more.

  Only this time it was Autumn that made him yearn for more.

  And that was damn dangerous.

  “Griffin?”

  He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. “I’ll show you what I have when you come into my office. I’ve been doing this for a few years now, so I know it might not look like I know what I’m doing, but I’m not that bad off.”

  She sighed. “I know you aren’t bad off. I’ve read your work, remember? I hear you typing away in your office so I know you can work hard. You’re letting me help bit by bit so I’m going to keep pushing until neither one of us can let me push anymore.”

  He nodded then tilted his chin towards the kitchen. “I’m going to go get a drink. Just walk into the office when you’re ready to work.”

  He moved past her, careful not to brush against her as he did. As soon as he stepped into the kitchen, the mouthwatering scent of beef and barley made his body want to fall to the floor at Autumn’s feet and beg for more. More of what…well… again, he wasn’t going to think about that. But damn it, he hated himself just a bit more for it all. He had groceries in his home, food in his Crock-Pot, and found out he had a fucking bread maker because of the woman in the living room. He obviously couldn’t take care of himself like an adult. He was a goddamn idiot—selfish and lazy.

  “Why are you scowling? Did I not get you what you needed to make your drink?”

  He cursed under his breath and lifted his head so he could see Autumn fully. She had her hands empty but was wringing them in front of her. He’d never seen her do that before, look so uncertain. And he was the one doing that to her. This strong, fucking amazing woman and he’d made her wring her hands.

  “I’m just pissed off that my house is so fucking clean and filled with food because you’re the one doing it. Not me. Like I’m a lazy asshole.” He didn’t know why he let the words come out of his mouth, and from the wide eyes on her face and open mouth, he had a feeling Autumn felt the same way.

  “You’re not a lazy asshole. All of what you said is what I’m here for. So you can think about other things. Damn, Griffin, you’ve earned that right.”

  He snorted. “Earned? Are you fucking kidding me? I just put words on paper. How is that earning.”

  She waved her hands in front of him. “Oh, shut up. You do more than you think. You can’t quantify the way someone feels when they read a book, when they see an aspect of themselves in a character. Or even an aspect they want to be. I see what you do, I see how you struggle to make sure the book is yours, even though the reader thinks of it as theirs, as well. It’s not just words, Griffin. It’s a story, an idea. It’s a life. You do so much more than you think you do.”

  He tilted his head, studying the way her cheeks had pinked with the passion of her speech, the way her breasts rose and fell as she took deep breaths. He loved the fire in her eyes, the way she knew things about him—the way he worked, the way he thought, even if he hadn’t known he felt that way at all. Her pupils were wide, dark, and when she licked her lips, he was gone for her. He could tell she wanted him just as badly, and yet they’d pulled away over and over again, ignoring what was right in front of them because it was the smart thing to do.

  But despite his accomplishments, Griffin knew he wasn’t a smart man.

  Not in the slightest.

  He wanted her—body, mind, and maybe even her soul. But right then, he wanted her.

  “The hell with it, Fall,” he growled. He prowled the two steps between them, wrapped one hand around the back of her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair, and crushed his lips to hers. She gasped into his mouth before her arms went around his back, her nails digging into his skin beneath the cotton of his shirt. His free hand traveled up her side, trailing fingers up her arm, and then grasped her cheek, angling her face so he could deepen the kiss. Their tongues clashed, pushing against one another as they fought for control. He might have her in his arms, may have positioned her for what he desired, but she was the one who controlled him, who raked her nails along his shirt and skin, pushing him to go deeper, to kiss her until they couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think without wanting more.

  This was Autumn.

  The woman he wanted.

  The woman he craved.

  The woman who fucking worked for him.

  At that thought, he wrenched his body away, his chest heaving. He took a step back, slid a hand through his hair, and let out a shaky breath. “Fuck.”

  “I…Griffin…”

  He held up a hand, noticed it shaking, and lowered it. “I’m sorry. So fucking sorry. Forget that happened. It was just a momentary lapse.”

  She tilted her head but didn’t look hurt. Thank fuck. “Okay. I need to go home.” She groaned. “But I need you to drive me still.” She closed her eyes and groaned. “You’re right. We’re forgetting that happened, but…”

  He cursed again. “Let me grab my keys. You get that bag I never see you without and let’s roll.” He met her gaze. “I’m sorry.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Say you’re sorry again and I’ll start to feel bad.”

  He gave one quick nod. “Got it.”

  She quickly got her bag, and he grabbed his keys. Soon they were on the way to her place, an awkward as hell silence filling the car. He’d fucking kissed her.

  No, that wasn’t right. It hadn’t just been a kiss. He had devoured her, a soul-clenching taking of lips and breath and heat. And he couldn’t do it again. Not if he wanted to stay sane. He didn’t know anything about her, and he knew she kept secrets, but he still wanted her. And that was more dangerous than anything else he could think of right then.

  His hands clenched the steering wheel. “Autumn…”

  “Don’t, Griffin. I’l
l make sure I can get someone to drop me off at your place tomorrow for work. Hopefully, my car can get into the shop tomorrow, as well. We’ll just work on your book bible, and then I’ll get to work on your site. As you said, nothing happened.”

  He opened his mouth to say that he was sorry again, to say that he’d fucked up. And, yet, he didn’t know what he truly wanted to say. Instead of being able to speak, he heard her scream and turned to his left.

  Bright lights filled his vision, and the sound of crunching metal and Autumn’s screams were the last things he heard before a fiery pain slammed into his body. He tried to hold out an arm, tried to somehow protect the woman next to him, but he couldn’t.

  Darkness engulfed him, pulling him under into a sweet splendor of agony and hell.

  Chapter Seven

  Autumn hadn’t wanted to die, hadn’t wanted to spend her last breath on a scream for a man she hardly knew but felt as if she’d known all her life. And she hadn’t. Instead, she found herself in a hospital waiting room, bandaged and bruised and surrounded by countless Montgomerys. She also found herself unable to speak, afraid that as soon as she did, she’d break.

  She hadn’t let a single tear fall, but as soon as she spoke, she was afraid she’d let them all fall.

  The others had only looked at her once, nodded, then sat next to or near her, waiting her out.

  They might have to wait a bit longer because she sure as hell didn’t know what she would say to them. How could she comfort them? Tell them their son, brother, and friend would be okay when she wasn’t sure what had happened?

  The car had come out of nowhere. It’d run a stop sign and slammed into the driver’s side door. The police had mentioned drunk driving, and since she knew for a fact Griffin hadn’t been drinking, it had to be the other driver. Her brain had only been focused on Griffin and the blood that had coated her clothes. She knew that it didn’t all belong to her, and she didn’t even know if the other driver was alive. The Montgomerys would be able to talk to the police and doctors for those details. She was useless until she could gather what little courage she had and figure out what the hell she was going to do.