"What did you want to do?" he asked curiously.
"Work in film, animation specifically. I eventually got hired by a production company to do just that. I learned a lot and the company had some success, until the past year when we couldn't come up with an idea that would get us funding. Eventually, the group disbanded, and I found myself unemployed. Since then, I've been freelancing and looking for another permanent job. A friend of mine offered to sublet me his beach apartment in San Clemente for six months, so I decided to come a little farther south. I have a job interview on Friday that looks promising, so hopefully something will come of that. And once again, I've told you more than you want to know."
He actually preferred when she did the talking, but he was starting to feel badly about not paying her for her time. "Maybe you should be charging me for this job."
"Oh, no, I'm happy to donate my time. It sounds like a great cause, and it will be fun, too. I'm not destitute. I have savings. My parents raised me well. My dad used to say for every dollar you spend, you should put two in the bank. I can hear his voice in my head whenever I'm looking at some really expensive but super cute shoes."
"And the winner is—your dad's sage savings advice or the shoes?"
He glanced over at her, and sucked in a breath as her mouth dimpled in a deliciously sexy way. "I can't lie—sometimes, it's the shoes."
He couldn't stop the smile that crossed his lips.
Annie's eyes widened in surprise. "Wow! Your lips can go up instead of down—shocking."
He shrugged. "You finally said something amusing." He pulled into a parking spot. "And we're here."
* * *
Annie was shocked to have gotten a smile out of Griffin Hale, but that moment had quickly passed, and as they walked into Hamilton House, she could feel him retreating. The man couldn't seem to decide how he felt about her, and she wasn't quite sure how she felt about him, either. For the moment, she decided to focus on getting the information she needed to create some great flyers and T-shirts for the holiday fundraiser.
Hamilton House was located in a renovated warehouse in a neighborhood that was a mix of industrial, retail, and lower income housing. It felt a bit barren on the outside, but once she entered the building, she was greeted with warm, bright colors in the reception area and the sound of music and laughter coming from what appeared to be a dance studio.
A middle-aged woman at the front desk got up to welcome them. She had brown hair and brown eyes and wore a purple shirt that said A book a day keeps the boredom away.
"Griffin, it's good to see you," she said with a warm smile.
"You, too," he replied. "This is Annie Callaway—Deb Johnson. Deb runs this place."
She shook Deb's hand. "It's nice to meet you."
"Annie is going to design the flyers and shirts for our holiday event," Griffin added. "I thought she might get some inspiration if she could see what you're doing here firsthand."
"Of course, and if I can help in any way, please ask. The kids loved this event last year, and I know they're going to feel the same way this year. It's a special day for them," Deb said. "We really appreciate everything Griffin does to not only help us bring in important donations but also make the kids feel special."
She could see Griffin shifting his feet uncomfortably at Deb's glowing words. He really hated gratitude.
As the phone on the desk began to ring, Deb moved away to answer it. "I'll let you show Miss Callaway around, Griffin. Feel free to go wherever."
"Deb seems nice," she commented as they left Deb to her call.
"She is nice and very good at running this place. It's actually more than just a job to her," he explained, as they walked across the lobby toward the dance studio. "Deb's father, Mitch Hamilton, started the place fifteen years ago after his son Ethan, Deb's younger brother, overdosed. He felt guilty that as a single father, he hadn't been able to provide a safe place for Ethan to spend his time after school."
"That's sad, but it's good that something positive came out of it. Is her father still around?"
"No, Mitch passed away two years ago, right after I got involved here. Deb has a loyal group of supporters but she was worried about money, so I thought a holiday event would help a little."
They paused outside the studio, and she smiled at the eight little girls, who couldn't have been more than eleven or twelve, doing some kind of salsa dancing. The music was fast, the smiles were big, and the laughter was infectious.
"That looks fun," she said. "I loved taking dance class when I was young, but I wasn't very good, especially at ballet. That was way too structured for me. And the ballet teacher was kind of mean."
"You were probably talking during class," he said dryly.
She rolled her eyes, unwilling to admit that was true. "Let's keep going."
For the next hour, they went through the Hamilton House. Annie saw kids playing basketball in the gym, getting help with homework in a computer lab, and painting in an art class, which was, of course, her favorite part of the building.
Griffin introduced her to quite a few people, all of whom seemed to genuinely know him and like him, which told her he spent a fair amount of time at Hamilton House beyond a once-a-year holiday event.
"What did you think?" he asked as they returned to the car.
"It's a great place for kids. Everyone seemed very happy. I think you're doing a good thing with the fundraiser."
He nodded. "It's important to keep the doors open and the lights on."
"I agree." She turned sideways in her seat to look at him. "But there's always a little mystery surrounding you."
He glanced over at her, but she couldn't read his expression, because he'd hidden his amazing blue eyes behind a pair of aviator sunglasses, which only made him more attractive, and her heart beat a little faster.
"I don't know what you're talking about. I just showed you everything there was to see."
"You did, and I saw how many people greeted you by name. Boys gave you high fives, girls gave you hugs, adults looked at you with respect and affection. There's no way you just host a party a year and drop off toys for Christmas. What else do you do there?"
"I volunteer on occasion."
"Doing…"
"I coach basketball games. I've helped some kids with reading, getting on the computer, that kind of stuff."
"How did you get involved in the first place? How did you hear about them?"
He sighed. "You have a lot of questions, Annie."
"Want to give me some answers?"
He hesitated, then said, "I didn't grow up with a lot of money. After my mom died, there was no one home when I got out of school. My dad also drank a lot. Sometimes he came home to make dinner; sometimes he didn't. I had a bad few years and I got into some trouble."
"What kind of trouble?"
"Teenage stuff, not jail-worthy, but not great, either."
"Did some place like Hamilton House save you?"
"No, there was nothing like that around where I lived. My grandparents stepped in after a time. I actually went to live with them when I was sixteen. They set me straight, but a lot of kids don't have grandparents or anyone to help them out like that."
She was beginning to see where some of his hard edges had come from. "And how did you find Hamilton House?"
"Vinnie brought me here one day. He knew Deb from his childhood, and that's how I got involved. But it's not really a big deal. I don't spend a lot of time here. Others do far more than I do for this place."
As usual, Griffin was downplaying his actions. She knew better than to try to get him to admit that volunteering was a good thing and maybe even a little heroic. He seemed to dislike it whenever she tried to give him any kind of credit.
"Did you get any inspiration?" Griffin asked, as he started the car. "For your designs?"
"I did. I loved all the colors. It was like walking through a rainbow, but I don't want to do a rainbow, because that's not quite right. And it doesn't feel lik
e Christmas." She paused. "I also liked the motivational quotes etched on the walls and over the doorways and running under the windows. I need to find a way to incorporate the holiday spirit, the idea of giving back, helping someone less fortunate and also have a design that entices people to participate or to put on a shirt…" She realized she was once again rambling. "Sorry. My ideas are usually pretty messy in the beginning. My vision won't come alive until I start drawing. I usually go through several drafts, though, so I'm going to need a day or two."
"I wish I could give you more time than that, but I thought Justin was working on this for the past week. I didn't realize he was just working on a way to get out of it."
"His optimism was a little misplaced, and then he didn't want to let you down."
"I get it. I'm just sorry to put you in a time crunch, but I need the designs by Thursday or the printer can't get the flyers or shirts done in time."
"I'll make it happen. I'll work on it after I have dinner with Megan."
His scowl came back at her words. "I forgot about that. You're eating at the Depot, right?"
"I think so. Although, I guess we could go somewhere else."
"Eat there. My treat. It's the least I can do for your help."
She didn't know why he wanted them to stay in, but she could only assume it had something to do with whatever trouble Megan was in. It certainly didn't have to do with any desire on Griffin's part to keep her close. While he'd unbent a little, he still had a lot of walls up, and she knew only a tiny bit more about him now than she'd known before they got in the car.
"Where do you live?" she asked curiously.
He shot her a quick look, then said, "Over the bar."
"So, Megan is staying at your place?"
"No, there are two small apartments upstairs. They were originally offices for the train station, but I turned them into living spaces. Originally, Vinnie was going to take one, but then he decided he didn't want to sleep where he worked."
"How did you meet Vinnie?"
"Through friends. He's a great partner. He runs the kitchen; I run the bar."
"Who designed the interior? It's really charming and warm. That wasn't you, was it?"
"You don't think I can be charming and warm?"
"I think you could be—if you wanted to be. But that doesn't seem like something you want to be."
"We got off on the wrong foot."
"Did we? I think our first meeting was absolutely perfect, but that's because you saved my life. Our second meeting—not so much."
"I was having a bad day, and you walked in on the middle of it."
"And was Sunday a bad day, too? Monday, as well?" she challenged.
"Okay, let's call it a bad week. You kept popping up when I was not expecting it. Can we go from here?"
"Sure," she said, liking that he was willing to acknowledge he hadn't been the most welcoming person in the world to her. "But I can't guarantee that I won't pop up again when you're not in the mood to see me. I don't have the best timing. I don't know what it is, but if there's a chance to walk in on someone or something at the worst possible time, I seem to do it."
He gave her a curious look. "Besides me, who else have you walked in on?"
She drew in a breath and let it out. "You have your secrets; I have mine."
"Boyfriend?"
"I'm not going to tell you."
"Husband?"
"No. I've never been married. And I'm still not going to tell you. See how it feels when the shoe is on the other foot?"
"Yes." He paused. "I'd like to say I'll be more open, Annie, but that probably won't happen. So, we both know where we stand."
She actually had no idea where they stood. There had been some nice moments between them, but Griffin seemed to take one step forward and two steps back when it came to her. However, there was no more time to discuss it, because he was pulling into the parking lot.
As she stepped out of his car, her phone rang. It was the number for the production company she was going to interview with on Friday. "I have to take this," she said. "It's about my interview."
"I'll leave the back door open and meet you inside."
"Thanks." She answered her phone. "Hello?"
"Annie Callaway?"
"Yes?"
"This is Diane Bartlett. I'm calling from Dorsey Productions about your interview on Friday. I wanted to confirm the time with you—eleven thirty."
"That's what I have down."
"Excellent. Mr. Dorsey is also requesting that you come with art to go with any pitches you want to make."
"Okay. Do you know how much detail he wants?"
"He said that's up to you, but he'd like to see enough to understand the project."
"I can do that."
"Then we'll see you on Friday."
"Thanks." As she slipped her phone into her pocket, she realized just how much work she had to get done in the next three days. Not only did she have to come up with designs for Griffin's holiday fundraiser, she needed to hone in on the art for her pitch.
Well, at least she was at the Depot. She could have dinner with Megan, soak up more atmosphere, and then go home and start drawing. She didn't know what her idea for the pitch would be, but the characters from the bar were driving her artistic vision at the moment, so she was going to ride that wave and see where it went. Hopefully not into the jaws of a shark, she thought with amusement, wondering if the surfing metaphor had something to do with Griffin, who seemed to be constantly on her mind.
As she walked across the lot, she saw Megan come out the back door with a bag of trash.
"Vinnie is giving me all the fun tasks," she said, pausing by Annie.
Annie smiled. Despite her complaint, Megan didn't look all that unhappy about her chore. "New girl always gets the trash—at least that's what I was told every time I started a new job," she said, as she walked with Megan to the dumpster at the end of the lot.
"That's exactly what Vinnie told me," Megan returned. "How was your field trip with Griffin?"
"Informative. Hamilton House is doing great things for a lot of kids. I'm happy to be a part of the fundraiser."
"Vinnie told me a little about it," Megan said. "It sounds like fun."
"Maybe we can brainstorm some ideas over dinner."
"I don't know how creative I am these days, but I can try."
Annie's phone beeped with a new text. She stopped walking to read it, while Megan dumped the trash into the dumpster.
It was a text from her brother Dylan asking if she'd really been attacked by a shark. Apparently, Mia and Kate had decided to share that information with the rest of the family. She'd text him later when she had more time, because she knew it was not going to be a one text and done kind of response.
As she put her phone away, she heard the roar of an engine, and the squeal of tires. A dark sedan came spinning around the corner at a high rate of speed. Instead of racing down the street, it made a sharp turn, launching into the employee parking lot with a shrieking scream of the engine. Her jaw dropped as the car headed straight toward them.
She instinctively turned and shoved Megan toward the side of the building, then she dove out of the way, hitting the ground hard with her hands and her knees. The car missed them, but smashed against the side of the dumpster before spinning around, ready for another attack…
Seven
Annie looked over her shoulder, seeing a hooded figure behind the wheel. He revved the engine again, but before he could go after them, Griffin and Vinnie came running out of the back door and into the lot.
The driver pumped the gas and sped past them, spinning back out into the street before racing out of sight.
Her heart was pounding against her chest, her breath coming short and fast, fear hitting her in huge, debilitating waves. She wanted to stand up, but she wasn't sure she could get to her feet.
What the hell had just happened?
She glanced back at Megan, who was sitting on the ground, he
r arms wrapped around her knees, her face white as a sheet. "Are you okay?" she asked.
"They—they found me," Megan said, her teeth chattering.
"What? Who?" she asked in confusion.
Megan stared back at her, but she didn't answer. She was retreating inside herself. The light was going out of her eyes. She was rocking back and forth as if she were a child, as if she were somewhere far, far away.
"Annie," Griffin said sharply, as he and Vinnie reached them. "Are you all right?"
"I think so."
He held out his hand to her, and she was happy to have his fingers curl around hers as she stumbled to her feet. She felt a little light-headed from the adrenaline rush and her inability to take a deep breath.
Vinnie squatted in front of Megan. "How are you doing, Megan?"
"They—they found me," Megan said. "They found me. They found me."
Annie frowned as Megan's words went around in a terrified circle. "Who found you, Megan?" she asked.
Griffin's gaze narrowed at her question, and he exchanged a pointed look with Vinnie, then said, "Let's all go inside."
"Good idea," Vinnie said. "Let me help you up, Megan. Come on, you can do it." He grabbed Megan's hand and pulled her to her feet.
While Annie still wanted an answer to her question, she was more than happy to leave the parking lot.
After entering the building, Griffin led them up the stairs. She was finally going to see what was up there. He stopped at the first door and looked back at Megan. "Do you have the key?" At her blank look, he added, "Check your pocket, Megan."
At his firm command, Megan reached into her pocket and pulled out a chain with two keys. Griffin grabbed it and let them into the apartment.
"Is this your place?" she asked.
"No, it's where Megan is staying."
That might explain the simple, stark furnishings. The apartment was comfortable but impersonal.
Megan sat down on the couch, drawing her feet up underneath her. Vinnie pulled a blanket off the back of the sofa and put it around Megan's shoulders. Then he said, "I'm going to make some tea."
As Vinnie moved into the kitchen, Annie sat down on the couch next to Megan and gave her an encouraging look. "It's going to be okay," she told her.
Cant Let Go GO PL Page 7
