Griff had gotten almost everything on her list at Wal-Mart and even more warm clothes than she’d asked for, but she didn’t have a coat or boots that would fit her. She’d even searched through Maryn and Tucker’s lockers in the mudroom, but everything of Maryn’s was miniscule and everything’s of Tucker’s was huge.
Griff had made himself impressively scarce the last three days. The house was big, but it wasn’t that big. He was obviously avoiding her and working hard to do it. If they ran into each other, he’d give her a forced smile, murmur some excuse, and hurry away. She’d seen him outside her bedroom windows a few times, but she couldn’t see that he was doing anything out in the snow besides pacing around. She knew he spent hours in the home gym, but if she put on some of the workout gear he’d thoughtfully bought for her and walked in, he’d leave quickly. She cooked dinner every night, by herself, and left it out on the counter. Hours later, she’d check and see that the food had been eaten and everything was cleaned up. Yet he never ate with her or even thanked her. He really was a jerk.
The constant rejection hurt. Wasn’t it enough that he’d rejected her back in their college days? Did he have to keep repeating the action, make sure she knew not even to dream about him?
He had sought her out earlier today and told her he’d heard from Sutton and they had some leads. They should find the person who instigated her hit soon. Griff had looked relieved that this job might be over. She should be too. She didn’t want to be stuck here much longer, but any hope she had of a breakthrough with Griff would disappear when she went back home. Ten long years of wishing he’d reappear, and then when he did, nothing came of it. Nobody would watch a movie this depressing. If she turned it into a movie, she’d have Griff kissing her every chance he got, multiple bad guys appearing, and the two of them running for their lives, while holding on to each other’s hands, of course.
She sighed as she scrubbed her face and got ready for bed. She should be happy their existence was mundane. It meant she was safe, but couldn’t she be safe and in Griff’s arms? She heard his door open and close next door. She’d found that interesting. Seven suites on this floor, and he’d chosen the one right next door to hers. Probably just for safety reasons. Their balconies even connected, not that she could even get that door open with the mounds of snow on the patio. Snow in March. No matter how pretty it was here, she wouldn’t choose to have a home in a cold location like this. She preferred beaches and sunny skies.
Picking up the bottle of blonde hair dye that she’d left out on the counter, she turned it over in her hands. Why had Griff truly bought it? They were hidden here; she didn’t need some disguise. Maybe he preferred her as a blonde. The thought that he preferred her at all made her stomach warm. She rolled her eyes and set the bottle down. Her hair stylist would ream her if she used cheap bleach like this on her long, thick, hair. It would probably damage it and she’d have to cut it off. Her agent and image consultants would have lots to say about that. Well, they weren’t stuck in a remote cabin with the only man they’d ever loved and completely losing their minds, now, were they?
Scarlett finally lay down in the bed, stretching out under the warm blankets. Everything about this home was comfortable and luxurious, but it wasn’t any fun being here basically by herself. She could only imagine how happy Maryn and Tucker Shaffer would be here, but few people had beautiful relationships like those two. Scarlett certainly didn’t, probably never would.
She tossed and turned, trying to find a position where she would sleep. The longer she lay awake, the more frustrated she became. She wanted to run into the suite next door, pound on Griff’s chest, and demand he tell her why he’d left her all those years ago. Didn’t she deserve an explanation? She knew he’d loved her in college. That love was so far gone, and she didn’t know why she couldn’t just let it all go.
Men throughout the world would give anything for a single date with her. She didn’t let it make her overconfident, because she understood that they didn’t know the real her. Why did the only man she’d ever wanted want nothing to do with her? It must be a reflection on her, then, because Griff truly knew her and he’d left without looking back.
She’d dated a lot of impressive men but had never found anyone like Griff. It was interesting that she always chose to date the tough guy. Her latest boyfriend was Josh Porter, the NHL hockey star. He was a great guy, tough, and a lot like Griff in that he didn’t waste words and he had impeccable manners. Yet it hadn’t hurt her at all when Josh had reconnected with the love of his youth, Hannah Hall. Scarlett had been happy for both of them and only wondered why she couldn’t connect with the love of her youth.
She gritted her teeth and rolled over, punching the pillow. Reality wasn’t enjoyable. She’d make sure to never say yes to an unrequited love story. She was also done with rom-coms and dramas. Action or suspense movies were her focus from here on out.
“Jane!” The scream from Griff’s room was loud enough to make her ears ring.
She froze under the covers. Griff would only yell like that, and yell her real name, if someone had broken into their sanctuary. Should she run to him, or stay hidden? Was it a warning yell, or a come to me so I can protect you yell?
She waited for a few seconds, then decided to move. He wouldn’t yell like that if he wanted her to hide.
Scrambling out of the covers, she ran to her bedroom door, her hand trembling as she pushed the lever handle down and pulled the door toward her. She searched the hallway, which was dimly lit with the built-in night lights. She couldn’t hear or see anything. Cold sweat pricked at her neck as she crept into the hallway. She was so grateful now that Griff had chosen the bedroom next to hers. She just wanted him close, wanted to know he would protect her.
“Jane! No!” Griff yelled.
Scarlett jumped, screamed, and sprinted for his door. Pushing down the handle, she flung it open, slammed it closed, and then ran for him.
Griff sat up in bed. The half moon reflecting off the snow outside gave her enough light to see his chest, arms, and face. His well-defined chest and arms looked so safe and inviting. His face scrunched with confusion. “Scarlett?” he asked, reverting to her actress name now he was awake.
Scarlett ran to him, diving against him and knocking him back to his pillows. His arms instinctively wrapped around her. She burrowed her head in his chest. “Do we need to move? Who did you see? Are you okay?” She rapid-fired the questions at him.
“What?” He sounded disoriented and unsure, which was so unlike Griff. He pushed her away from him and slipped out of the covers, his eyes darting around the room. “Did you hear something?” He grabbed a device off the nightstand and peered at it. “Nothing from the security cameras.”
Scarlett stood, feeling shaky. “No, it was you. You were screaming my name.”
He whirled on her. “You didn’t see someone?”
“No. I was lying there and I heard you scream my name, so I came to you.”
His blue eyes searched over her carefully. Finally, he nodded. “Sometimes I have nightmares. I apologize if I scared you. Just to be safe, I’ll come check your room, and then you can get some rest while I check the rest of the house.”
Scarlett folded her arms across her chest. His words were all formal and detached, but she could see deep in his eyes that he wasn’t impervious to worrying about her. It emboldened her to say, “So you sometimes have nightmares …” She paused, and he gave her a slight bob of his head. “Where you scream my name?”
She had him, and they both knew it. His eyes flashed with warmth for her and he took a step closer. Scarlett was such a sucker for him that she almost ran headlong into his broad chest.
The military shutter went over his face quickly. Scarlett blinked, and the man who cared for her was gone. “Stay close to me while I check your room,” he muttered, walking to the door and swinging it partway open. He glanced around the hallway, listening. She concentrated on his back; the skin there looked bumpy, but she cou
ldn’t see it clearly in the darkened room. After a tense moment, Griff looked over his shoulder at her and motioned with his head.
Scarlett rolled her eyes. She was so fed up with him right now. This scene would’ve been the perfect opportunity for him to notice how afraid she was, cuddle her close, and admit that he yelled her name in his sleep because he’d never let her go from his heart. But no, not Griff. He stayed all strong and detached. He’d die alone rather than admit he cared for her. Sadly for her, that meant she’d die alone too. Why couldn’t she get over him?
“Come on.” He gestured with his hand.
“No. It was just your nightmare; there’s no one here. And I would like to discuss why you scream my name in your sleep.”
Griff slowly walked back to her. His gaze was cold and quite honestly terrifying. The sheer power of his build would have many people cowering. Scarlett simply glared at him. She knew he’d never hurt her, and he was going to have to pick her up and throw her in her bedroom to get her out of his.
“I need you to cooperate with me, Jane, or I can’t guarantee your safety.”
“Maybe I don’t want to be safe.” She jutted out her chin.
“That is the stupidest thing you’ve ever said. You want to be kidnapped and taken to some man who would pay a million dollars to rape you?”
Scarlett recoiled at that horrible word, but she wasn’t backing down with him. “Ask me what I really want, Griff.”
He stared at her, grunting in disgust. “No.”
Scarlett shut her eyes, then opened them and tried to beg him with her gaze. It was too dark to see clearly, but between the moon and the night lights, she thought he could guess her intentions. She stepped closer to him, inhaled his clean scent, and poked him in that solid and inviting chest. “Ask me.”
He wrapped his hand around hers and she was pretty certain he was going to fling her hand away, but instead he kept it cradled in his palm, close to his heart. Scarlett lifted her other hand and rested it on his nicely formed bicep. Griff let out a soft moan, and her heart lifted—she knew he wasn’t impervious to her.
“Please ask me,” she murmured. “You stubborn jerk, please ask me.”
Griff granted her a slight smile. He released her hand and cupped her cheek with his palm. “What do you want, Jane?” he asked in a deep voice that pierced clear through her.
“You.” She didn’t dare move or hardly even breathe as she studied his face.
His blue eyes darkened to midnight. “Why would you want me?” His voice sounded pained, broken.
“It’s always been you, Griff. Always. I never stopped loving you.” She’d laid it out there now, and there was no taking it back.
He searched her face for a few beats and she thought maybe he would soften, would admit he loved her too. Then he shook his head. “No. You’re wrong to believe you love me. You live in a make-believe world. You don’t want me; you want the image of me. The alpha male. The hero. I’m not Hollywood, Scarlett.”
Scarlett’s heart felt like it was being pummeled by a sledgehammer. She wanted to call him so many names and then cry herself to sleep, but she loved him. Despite her rational brain trying to tell her to wise up and get away, she still loved him.
She should give up now, but she hadn’t reached her level of acclaim by doing things halfway. She wrapped both hands around his upper back, prepared to pull herself close and kiss him, show him how much she loved him, and see if she could break through his barriers. Her hands met ridged scars, deep and uneven scars. Scarlett gasped, released him, and moved to go behind him and see what had happened to his perfect back.
Griff wrapped her up tightly in his arms, pinning her against his chest to stop her from moving at all. “Don’t,” he warned.
“Griff.” Scarlett’s voice came out in a whimper. She knew what she’d felt. He’d been burned, or whipped, or tortured. All the horrific things that had happened in movies she’d starred in played through her mind, but those weren’t real. This was very real, and it had happened to the man she loved.
“It’s okay,” Griff said in the softest voice she’d heard from him in the past three days. “I’m okay, Jane.”
“Is it your entire back?” she whispered, trembling. Who had done that to him?
He nodded, not saying anything more. Her arms were trapped tight to her sides as he kept her in a very firm embrace.
“Let me go, Griff,” she said. It was ironic that she’d been begging him to hold her, but now she wanted to be free.
“No.”
She would’ve loved that refusal in any other circumstance. But she needed to see. She needed to kiss his scars and see them for herself, see what had happened to this man she cared so deeply for. “Please, Griff.”
“I don’t want you to see them.”
She looked up at him, his chiseled face outlined by the moonlight. “Who did that to you?”
Griff shook his head and held her more tightly. “Let’s get you to bed.” Walking with her held tightly against him was awkward. They made it into her room and next to her bed. He released her and gestured with his hand. “Get some rest.”
Scarlett shook her head, biting at her lower lip. “I can’t sleep thinking that someone tortured you or something.” She perversely wanted to see his back, but as much as he didn’t want her to see it, she tried to respect him for that.
Griff sighed heavily. “I don’t talk about stuff like this with anyone.”
“You used to tell me everything.”
He studied her and finally admitted, “Yeah, I did.”
“What happened to you?” she asked. She meant everything—the scars, the way he’d shut himself off from her, his need to be a hero, and his determination not to let anyone so much as thank him for it.
He studied the bed, his arms folded tightly across his chest. The muscles bulged in his arms, chest, and shoulders. Scarlett wanted to reassure him that he was irresistibly attractive, even if his back was disfigured. It’s what she would want to hear as a woman, but she doubted Griff cared if he was attractive to her, or to anyone else.
The silence lasted interminably, but she waited him out. She’d never sleep if she didn’t know; she’d starred in too many action and thriller movies, and her imagination could go darker and more sadistic than what might have actually happened.
Finally, he grunted the words in a low, broken voice. “I was captured and imprisoned in Syria for a few weeks. They whipped us regularly, always on our backs, killed some of my men with the whip.” He paused, and she wondered if he’d share more of what had happened, but he went on: “A couple years ago, I rescued Jasmine from a bomb and my back was burned in the explosion, adding to the scarring.” He actually smiled then. “Didn’t know that crazy woman would end up being my sister-in-law.”
There were so many things she wanted to ask him right now—about the imprisonment, the torture, the men he’d lost, Jasmine—but from the way his face tightened, she was afraid she’d gotten all the info she could hope for.
Instead of asking more, she stepped in close, wrapped her arms around his lower back, and laid her head on his chest. Griff pulled in a quick breath, but he didn’t pull away. He didn’t return the hug, but it was enough that he let her stay close. The ridges and bumps underneath her palms and fingertips made her stomach queasy. They whipped us regularly, killed some of my men. She swallowed hard to keep the bile down. How many men had he lost in that imprisonment? Was that part of the reason he was so hard and unreachable?
Scarlett softly trailed her fingers over his lower back. Griff’s body shuddered under her touch. She waited for him to run away from her. Long seconds passed where she ran her fingertips along the scars and savored the feel of his warm chest against her cheek. Please hold me, she thought, but she didn’t voice it. This wasn’t about her. It was about Griff knowing she wouldn’t recoil from his scars, and she appreciated what he’d gone through for their country, and to save his sister-in-law. He was such a natural hero.
Time probably ticked by, but Scarlett didn’t sense it. Her heart was cheering and her body knew it had found the spot it was meant to be in, close to the man she’d always loved.
Griff drew in a ragged breath and pulled back. Grasping her arms, he gently moved them from his back. “Good night, Jane,” he whispered, but he didn’t walk away. Still holding on to her forearms, he stared down at her as if he didn’t want to leave.
Scarlett moistened her lips and waited.
Griff shook his head, released her arms, and hurried around her. Before she could blink, he was out her door and had closed it firmly behind him. She sank onto the bed, and tears welled up in her eyes: tears of selfishness for another rejection from Griff, and tears of sorrow for what he’d gone through and those men who’d been killed. She flung herself onto the pillow and cried until she blessedly fell asleep.
Chapter Thirteen
Griff suffered through another sleepless night. What was Scarlett doing to him? When she’d held him so tenderly and trailed her fingers over his scars, it had touched him deeply. His heart lightened just remembering it. His mama and sister, Navy, were great ladies, but they were a tough-love kind of people, and he’d shut himself off emotionally from even them years ago. He gave his mama, Navy, his nephew, and his sisters-in-law quick hugs when he saw them. Sometimes, when he had a break from work, he’d allow himself to go on a date and kiss a pretty girl. That was the extent of physical touch for him.
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