His sister? Which sister? What did the coach know about either of his sisters that Griffin didn’t know?
And how could he find out?
He tried to imagine how that conversation would go. So, Izzy and Gracie. Any scandalous thing in your past that I ought to know about before I go public with Coach Nelson’s abusive ways?
Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen.
Or maybe it should. The Rockwells were all kinds of good at keeping secrets, but that wasn’t necessarily a healthy thing. Just look at him. How could he expect Isabelle or Gracie to cough up their secrets when he was keeping such a doozy himself?
It wasn’t until he was in his car that he realized why the kid he’d passed looked familiar. It wasn’t just the look of fear associated with any contact with Coach Nelson. He looked just like John Derrick. Must be his son, Marley, walking into the lion’s den after Griffin had gotten him all riled up.
His warning had better work.
12
Since Jake was finally back, Griffin stopped in at the Last Chance on his way back to the lodge.
“Welcome back to the frontlines,” Griffin told him as he slid onto a stool.
“Frontlines of what?” Jake growled. “Banging my staff?”
“What?”
He glanced past Jake, searching for Serena, but Jake stepped to the side to block his field of vision. “She’s not here. I gave her the night off since she’s been working so much. Thought you would have known that, since you’re apparently hooking up.”
Ah. Now he got it. “Didn’t Serena give you the lowdown on all that?”
“No, all she talked about was whether to get a hypothetical Chihuahua or an imaginary pit bull.”
“Jesus. Those are two completely different breeds, that’s a hard choice—” He broke off when Jake slapped his hands on the bar and leaned forward to give him the evil eye.
“Didn’t I ask you to leave her alone?”
“No one’s doing any banging. Jesus.” He lowered his voice to make sure no busybody barflies were eavesdropping. “She decided—spontaneously and completely on her own—to pretend we were together so people would give me a little space. It kind of snowballed from there.”
Jake lifted an eyebrow. “Snowballed?”
“You know how it goes. Small town. Word spreads.”
“Especially when you spend hours making out in a car in a parking lot. Yeah, word spreads. Like I want to hear about that first thing when I get back.”
“Speaking of getting back…Where’d you go, anyway? No one seems to know.”
Jake growled, sounding like a pit bull himself.
Griffin sighed. “We weren’t making out. I was teaching her some winter driving techniques. City girl up here in the mountains, it’s not safe.”
“Oh. That’s okay. Good.” Jake backed off, but he still squinted at Griffin suspiciously as he poured a glass of brandy for someone. “You look different.”
Griffin shifted his shoulders under his jacket. “Been up on the roof a lot. Probably got a windburn.”
“Nah, it’s not that. You look sort of…like you have a lot on your mind.”
That was one way to put it. Between Coach Nelson, his hearing issue, and his attraction to Serena, yeah, he had a lot on his mind. He picked the easiest thing to talk about. “Do you think there’s any chance Mom knew Serena’s father?”
Jake capped the bottle of brandy and replaced it on the shelf. “What makes you say that?”
Griffin shook his head. “A necklace of Mom’s surfaced.” He pulled it out of his pocket, where he’d been keeping it as a kind of talisman. “I remember her giving this to me not long before the accident. It’s so unusual, definitely not something you could buy around here. So where’d she get it?”
Jake draped it over his own palm and stared at it. “You know…shit. This makes me think of something.” He took out his phone and tapped something into it. “Remember that time Mom said she was going to a high school reunion? Izzy and I called the place she was staying and there wasn’t any reunion happening. We spent like an hour looking at all the stuff on the website for the hotel. And I remember seeing something like this.”
He showed Griffin the photo he’d found, which was an ad for a glassblowing “fine art” shop. It showed a set of wineglasses with the same swirling black and orange patterns in the pendant.
“Wow. Sure looks similar to me. Why didn’t you ever mention any of this before?”
“The accident,” said Jake simply.
Griffin nodded. The accident obviously changed everything. All the mysteries around their mother had seemed so unimportant. “Good going, Jakey. I think we got ourselves a clue. Where’s that hotel?”
“Santa Barbara.”
A broad smile spread across his face. Better and better. He took back the pendant, exchanged a fist bump with his brother, then shrugged on his jacket.
“Where are you going?”
“I’ll tell you where I’m going if you tell me where you went.”
He left, laughing, to the sight of Jake flipping him off.
When Serena opened the door to Griffin, he looked right past her at first. “You did get a dog!”
“No, of course not, this is a practice dog. Meet Boingo, he belongs to Betsy at the Depot. She’s away for a few days and I’m dog sitting.”
“Hello, Boingo.” Griffin bent to pat Boingo’s head. Covered with a coat of snow white curls, with the ability to bounce a good three feet into the air, he was like a canine version of a beach ball and definitely not an artist-studio appropriate dog.
“I’m in the research process, still learning about all the different breeds,” she told him as she twined her fingers through Boingo’s soft coat. “What do you think, Maltese or Great Dane?”
He smiled. She noticed that his face looked drawn, with shadows in his eyes. Melting snow spattered across his jacket. “Those are two totally different breeds. For guardian purposes, definitely the Great Dane. For dust mop purposes, the Maltese.”
“That’s horrible, shame on you. My hypothetical dog isn’t coming near you, buster. Anyway, I don’t think I need a guard dog. It’s been three weeks without any new threats.”
“Haven’t you ever seen a movie? That’s when the worst stuff happens, when everyone relaxes and thinks it’s over, but there’s still a good twenty minutes left until the end. Can I come in? I found something out.”
She ushered him inside, with Boingo capering ahead of them.
“Want some coffee?”
“No, I need to get back up to the lodge. Big family dinner tonight.”
He didn’t look thrilled by that prospect, and she wondered if something was going on with his family. But she didn’t ask. If there was one thing she knew how to do, it was to respect people’s space.
That was one of her favorite things about Griffin, in fact. He never overstayed his welcome, never talked too much, never intruded on her thought process. Back in San Francisco, he’d be the perfect roommate. With benefits.
“What’s up then?” she asked him.
He reached into his back pocket. “Actually two things. First of all, I brought some info about your fake trophy date eye candy duties.”
Oh right. She’d almost forgotten about that part of their deal. He handed her a printout of an email. She scanned it quickly, taking in the details about the event. Black tie. Cocktails. Dinner. Santa Barbara. It was sponsored by Blast Off Energy Drink and benefitted a Wounded Veterans’ organization.
“Sounds glamorous.”
“Is it too much?” He tucked his thumbs in his pockets, looking uncertain. “I know it’s a lot to ask. These things are never what you’d call ‘fun.’ If there was any way I could get out of it, I would. But I’m already causing trouble for my sponsor by retiring about five years earlier than they expected, so I feel like I owe them, and—”
“No. It’s fine. I’m happy to attend. It’ll be a nice break from snow boots and down parkas.” She ran th
rough potential outfits hanging in her closet and came up empty. “Do you happen to know where the closest high-end boutique is?”
“Gracie probably does. She has the most creative outfits in Rocky Peak. But Serena, I don’t want this to cost you anything. It’s all on me. You’re doing me a huge favor by coming with me.”
She threw up a hand to stop him. “The day I allow a man to buy me an outfit— well, let’s just say that there would probably be a wedding ring involved.” She made a face as if it was a farfetched idea, her getting married. Which it certainly was, based on her romantic history.
He still wore an unhappy look. “Just keep it in mind. I’m ready to cover the entire bill of anything you purchase for this damn thing. And everything else is completely taken care of already. This is an all-expenses paid trip.”
“I didn’t know motocross racers rated this kind of all-star treatment,” She walked into the kitchen and stuck the printout on her refrigerator with a magnet.
He looked embarrassed. “Not generally, no. Just sometimes.”
“Ah, gotcha.” Reading between the lines, he was getting this amount of attention because of who he was—his handsome hunky Griffin-ness.
He pulled his wool stocking cap off his dark hair, which brought her attention back to the shadows under his eyes. She was about to ask what was bothering him, but he forestalled her by breaking into a smile.
“Turns out there’s another good reason to go to Santa Barbara.”
“The surfing? The sunshine? The white wine cocktails?”
“We got a lead.” His smile broadened to a grin as he pulled the pendant from his pocket. “Thanks to this little guy. And Betsy at the depot.”
“What?” She gave a little hope of excitement. “What’s the lead?”
“Jake remembered something about a hotel that Mom went to that sells glass art like this.”
And just like that, disappointment cratered through her. The pendant must’ve belonged to his mother, not her father. So what if they’d found the shop where she’d purchased it? “What does that have to do with my father?”
“I don’t know. Maybe nothing. We won’t know until we check out the store.”
“Right.” She schooled her face into a smile. Her expectations were getting her into trouble, making her rude. Her need to find her father was messing with her manners. “Sorry. This is great. Really. And it’s even more perfect because we’re going to be in Santa Barbara in a few days. Maybe that’s a sign.”
He pulled his hat back over his crisp black hair, and suddenly she really didn’t want him to leave. She wanted him to sit on her couch and let her massage his neck and tell her what was causing those shadows in his eyes.
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay? I just got my Internet set up. Netflix is calling my name.”
He shook his head regretfully. “Another time.” Then he smiled. “What are the chances we like the same kind of movies anyway?”
“Based on our music tastes, pretty darn good.”
They both laughed and he turned to go. Then paused and looked back at her.
“One more thing. I just wanted to say, before we take this trip, that I won’t—I mean, in your car we came very close to—that is, you don’t have to worry about anything happening between us that—”
“Oh for Pete’s sake.” He looked so uncomfortable that her heart went out to him. She walked across the room until she was so close they were nearly touching. His eyes darkened to a deep smolder as he gazed down at her. “What are you worried about? Something like this?”
She tilted forward, lifting her face to within inches of his. At nearly five nine, she was tall enough to kiss him on the chin—if she lifted herself on tiptoes—or on the mouth if he met her halfway. She did neither, just returned his look with one of pure invitation.
“Something like that,” he agreed in a murmur. He placed his hands on her upper arms, the firm grip sending shivers through her. “Or maybe something more like this.”
Drawing her closer, he lowered his head just the right amount until his lips brushed ever so lightly against hers.
Those shivers turned into hot prickles.
“Doesn’t seem so dangerous,” she whispered. “I thought you meant something more along the lines of this.”
And she pressed her front against the hard muscular rock of his chest. Desire streaked through her like a screaming banshee. Her nipples peaked to diamond hardness. Hot lust burned in his eyes, sending her own excitement level into the stratosphere.
They could do this. Why not? They were both single, both consenting adults. There was absolutely no earthly reason not to surrender to this attraction. At least, not that she could think of at the moment, with his hands gripping her upper arms, crushing her against him, the bulge in his pants pressing against her thigh.
He claimed her mouth in a kiss so deep and passionate that it plunged her into a different state of mind. The world turned into a Tilt-A-Whirl. She held on tight so she didn’t stagger from the impact. This was a Clark Gable kiss, a “thoroughly and often” kiss, a kiss that could turn everything inside out and upside down. It was a full immersion kiss—all firm lips, deliciously abrasive scruff, intoxicating scent of rugged man and winter snow.
She opened her mouth to him, wanting him to take everything, to give everything. One of his hands was on her head now, holding her steady for his plundering. She wriggled her body closer to him, wanting every bit of contact she could soak in. So hard, so strong, so warm, so solid, so aware, so thoughtful, so beautiful. So everything she had always craved in a man, but never found.
A sound gradually made its way into her awareness. Was someone banging on the door? Trying to knock the house down? Finally she wrenched herself away and looked around wildly to find the source of the noise.
Boingo was pushed up against poor Griffin, barking at him, his big paws scrabbling at Griffin’s jeans.
“Okay, okay, big guy.” Griffin laughed as he took a step away from the dog, trying to extract himself from the attack—or was it an embrace? Or maybe some combination.
“Boingo. Stop that. Go to your bed.” Serena gestured firmly toward his dog bed, which was just a pile of blankets she’d set up near the woodstove. “Bad Boingo.”
Boingo dropped his paws back onto the floor and sat on his haunches, panting and drooling.
Which pretty much echoed how she felt, as a matter of fact.
“Go,” she said again, pointing at the blankets. Finally the dog got the message, slunk over to his bed and curled up.
Griffin cleared his throat. “I’m starting to rethink the whole ‘get a dog’ thing.”
She laughed, almost too hard because of the release from the tension of a few moments before. “Betsy told me she hasn’t had a man in her life for years. Boingo didn’t know what to think, poor thing.”
Was Griffin feeling as awkward as she was? She hadn’t intended for things to go so far…or had she? Teasing Griffin like that was playing with fire, and she’d known that perfectly well. What now?
She’d started this. Maybe she should finish it.
“Well, I’m glad we got that settled,” she said briskly.
“We did?”
“Absolutely. Now we know what to avoid.”
“We do?”
He looked bemused, with his dark hair mussed and heat still smoldering in his eyes.
“Yes. We just had a graphic demonstration of what not to do.”
“It could have been a lot more graphic,” he pointed out with a wicked grin. “That was just scratching the surface.”
Aaaand…now she knew exactly what she’d be fantasizing about tonight in bed. She swallowed hard, her mouth dry as cotton balls.
“Anyway, I should get going before I lose the only iota of willpower I have left,” he told her.
Laughing, she walked him to the door. As he zipped up his jacket, then disappeared into the blustery outdoors, she smiled to herself, a very female smile of satisfaction. All t
hose shadows were gone from his face, as completely as if they’d never been there at all.
Now that was the power of a good kiss. No, a great kiss.
“Sorry if I inflicted R-rated trauma on you, Boingo.” She crouched next to the dog and rubbed his ears. “I wish I could say that something like that will never happen again, but I can’t promise that as long as Griffin Rockwell’s around. That was one amazing kiss.”
Eyelids drooping, Boingo dropped his head onto his paws and settled into a snooze.
“Oh right, I forgot that English isn’t your main language. Never mind. We’ll figure it out.”
She got to her feet and went off to google “Santa Barbara glassblowers” and then, almost as an afterthought, “training dog to ignore human kissing.”
13
Max was in a rare state at dinner. He was telling stories that Griffin hadn’t heard for years. Stories about Mom, about the time the whole family had gone on a road trip to the Grand Canyon, and Griffin had chased after a ground squirrel and ended up stuck in a cave.
“Kai rescued you, remember that?”
From across the table, Kai grinned at him. “Started early, thanks to you.”
“You’re welcome,” Griffin grumbled. Somehow, when he was around Kai, he slid back into that younger brother position that always irked him, though he never complained out loud about it. “Nice to know I contributed something to the family.”
“Oh stop,” said Gracie. “You were my favorite big brother out of all of them.”
“I was?”
“Duh. You took me riding on the back of your bike.”
“You what?” Max thundered from the head of the table, making glasses clink against each other.
“She was fine,” said Griffin. “It was when we were playing knight in shining armor. On shining armor. The bike was the armor. Get it?” None of the others looked all that amused. “Hey, it was almost twenty years ago. I know better now.”
“I remember that I kept pestering you to drive the motorcycle myself,” said Gracie. “Except I was like, six. So you gave me the right handlebar while you did all the steering from the left.”
The Rogue Page 9
