“Well, since you twisted my arm, I guess it’s not a sin for you to sit and join me until my friend comes back for her seat.” From the look of things, she wasn’t returning any time soon. They were literally frolicking in the waves—Luca laughing uncontrollably every time the water rolled in and slapped him and Tessa in the face. Tessa was laughing so hard herself I was afraid she might drop Luca in the water and let the sea carry him away. Yeah, that would never happen. She’d never let any harm come to that kid. He was her life.
“Hey,” Griffin snapped his fingers, pulling my gaze from the ocean back to him. “I’m here. Where’d you just go?”
I mentally evaluated his sharp features—brown eyes with flecks of green and gold and surrounded by the tiny lines of age that just made him seem all the more interesting. His face was covered in just the right amount of scruff that matched his hair color—the dark brown locks he’d probably been born with, accentuated by the perfect amount of silver that gave him that distinguished gentleman look. But what threw the whole package slightly out of whack were the tattoos. He had one rather large one covering his neck. It was a dragon tattoo, full of vivid color and so animated and detailed it seemed to jump off his skin. The dragon reminded me of Beck, the other tattoos scattered across his arms and chest reminded me of my brother. Please tell me he’s nothing like those two. I can’t handle another boy—I need a man this time.
“I gotta say, I’m digging the tattoos, but… I don’t know, forgive me for being so blunt. You seem a little mature for some of them.”
“Mature, huh? Is that your way of calling me old?”
Oh, I didn’t want to insult him. I mean, he was definitely nowhere close to my age, but I didn’t have to point it out to him and make him feel older than he was. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just… I can picture you in a suit, with a briefcase, commuting to the city for your big important hedge fund job.”
Griffin slapped his knee and laughed so hard I found it a bit rude. “Hedge fund? What in the world would give you that impression?”
“Well, so-rry! What is it you do for a living, then? No, wait. Let me guess…”
“This should be fun… considering you were so off with your first guess.”
“Shhh. Okay,” I eyed him up and down and went for the obvious. “A tattoo artist.”
“Nope. And now you’re stereotyping me.” He frowned.
“Hmmm,” I thought, tapping my finger on my chin. “Please don’t say firefighter.”
“Nope. Don’t like them very much either.”
Think, Riley, think. This guy was more than your run of the mill businessman. “Artist?”
“Getting warmer.” His eyes brightened.
“Singer?”
“Can’t hold a tune to save my life.”
“Musician?”
“Tone deaf.”
This was infuriating and fun all at the same time. “Ugh. Okay. One more and if I get it right you owe me a Fudgie Wudgie from the ice cream guy over there.”
“And if you don’t get it?” His eyebrow twitched upward.
“You can take me out.”
He narrowed his eyes, shaking his head as if he were confused. “Well, where’s the fun in that? I was taking you out anyway.”
“No. That’s what you thought. I had no intention of saying yes to your advances, Griff. I don’t just go out with random, old strangers who try to pick up girls on the beach. You could be a serial killer, for all I know.”
“Serial killer? Was that your final guess? No Fudgie Wudgie for you.”
“Hey! No fair. That wasn’t my guess.”
“Yup, too bad. You lose. I’m a photographer. And tonight I’m taking you to my favorite restaurant in Williamsburg. Want to give me your number so I can call you, or are you still scared I’ll hunt you down and chop you into little pieces?”
I was not afraid about my body being chopped into little pieces—it was my heart that couldn’t take the mutilation. And if Salt and Pepper Griffin kept looking at me like that, my heart, my lungs, and my sanity were all goners.
“Someone steal your Teddy Bear, dude? You’ve been one mopey motherfucker. What’s your problem?” Ramos was a dick. An irritating, pain in the ass dick. He’d been on my case for the last few weeks, making jokes like this and singing randomly made up songs about Marissa and Riley just to bust my balls.
The funny thing was—I couldn’t disagree with him on most of his lyrics. The ones about her bitchiness even made me laugh. Like the ridiculous ditty he sang about her begging me to leave the fireman’s ball because she’d forgotten to DVR The Shahs of Sunset.
Oh, Marissa, you should only know,
Lieutenant McNabb watches the same show.
He’d ditch his bitch and the ball,
for a chance with the Shahs and to fuck you against the wall.
But the songs about Riley—those tore me up and made me miss her even more. Even the mention of her name made me edgy. And the guys knew it. So when Ramos started up a new one:
Beck’s a schmuck for letting that one go.
He was too afraid of Marcus to let his feelings show.
He ended things with the poor broad with the swipe of his thumb
and now it’s been three weeks since the dude’s spilled his cum.
Derrick and Sean had to hold me back from decking him. “Really, asshole? Aren’t you tired of screwing with me yet?”
“Never. When have any of us ever relented on a pussy-whipped brother? You’re still cracking jokes about the way I cried at my wedding. It’s not my fault I was raised to show my emotions. Angel looked fucking gorgeous—all pregnant and glowing and shit.”
He had a point. There wasn’t a shift we’d worked together since his wedding that I hadn’t made fun of him for his theatrical waterworks.
But this was torture.
I couldn’t be the boyfriend Riley deserved, and I couldn’t stand to be the one to hurt her. Tessa’s argument in the debate was strong because she understood all the circumstances. If Marcus only realized it was his sister who was my “other woman,” he might not be so keen on advising me to go for what I wanted.
The rec room was hip deep in testosterone and flying insults by now. I exited the sausage party and found myself at my locker, scrolling through my cell phone in hopes of finding a text from Riley.
Was she as tormented as I was? I’d heard she’d been traveling a lot, racking up new clients left and right. I was happy for her. In my eyes, that girl would always deserve the best—yet another reason to stay away.
After scrolling through random notifications from Facebook and Instagram, I caught a text message from her—not the her I’d wanted to text me but the other her. Marissa.
What could she possibly want? The last time we spoke it was for me to come over and pick up some stuff I’d left at her place. When I got to her apartment she tried to convince me to stay for dinner, attempting to persuade me with a skimpy outfit and a few tasteless come-ons. In the past, I might have fallen for it. But Marissa’s advances were not what I craved. If it was Riley putting the moves on me and asking for another shot—I wouldn’t be as resistant.
Opening the text, I took a deep breath to ready myself for something I didn’t want to see.
Marissa: Hey, was wondering if you’re doing anything next Saturday. My cousin Jodi is getting married (remember?) and I RSVP’d for two. Can you still make it as my plus one?
No. I was no longer her plus one and I had no intention of leading her to believe I ever would be again. But I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, so I came up with an excuse.
Me: Sorry. Hate to miss it, but I’m pulling a double that weekend. It’s my turn on the rotation, thanks to Ramos. His baby is due soon.
Okay. So it was an elaborate excuse, but she would buy it because she knew the way things worked around here.
Marissa: That sucks. Guess I’ll have to go stag.
Me: Sorry
Marissa: Don’t b
e. It’s not like you haven’t let me down before.
Guilt trips were unappealing, even through text messages. I really didn’t want to deal with that now—or ever.
Me: Ris? Please, not again.
I readied myself for the long, drawn out text I was about to receive, but was surprised by her clipped response.
Marissa: Good night, Beck. Sorry to bother you.
Me: Good night, Ris. No bother. Be good.
There was no reason to burn bridges or be an asshole. After all, it wasn’t Marissa’s fault that our break brought me to another woman. And it certainly wasn’t her fault that the other woman was consuming my mind. Still, something made me angry with her, as if it were her fault. Deep down I truly believed that Marissa was the reason I couldn’t pursue a relationship with Riley right now.
If it weren’t for things ending so abruptly with Marissa, my heart, my mind, and my soul would be untainted and completely up for grabs. For Riley. All I needed was a little more time to prove to Riley that Marissa was my past and I wasn’t rushing into anything. Once I could show her that she was more than a rebound and more than a good time—I’d be at her doorstep promising her forever. If she’d have me.
Later that night when I got home, I rifled through the mail—a bunch of bills, a few magazines, a flier for a handyman trying to gain more business—until something caught my attention. It was a large orange envelope addressed to Mr. Beck Matthews & Guest. When I flipped it over to check the return address, I remembered that Tessa was planning a big first birthday party for Luca. If I recalled correctly his birthday wasn’t until October, but it must be the proper protocol to send these things out early to do all those annoying party planning things like seating arrangements and shit.
When I opened it, a smile crept to my lips when I saw the addition of Marcus’s name to the invitation.
Mommy & Marcus would be thrilled if you could join me,
Luca Thomas
As I celebrate the first year of my life with a Halloween Birthday Bash…
Wow! Those two had clearly taken things to the next level. Whenever stationary was involved, it had to be serious. Good for them!
Marcus had spoken to me a few times about taking the next step and asking Tessa to marry him, but he also had other, more permanent plans. The same plans I’d had with Marissa before things went south and eventually nosedived. He’d been looking to buy a bigger place for all of them to live in. As a family. It was crazy how things had changed. I couldn’t believe the turnaround he’d made since meeting Tessa. It was like he was never that man-whore we knew him to be. He’d even taken on some more subtle gigs, not wanting to be unnecessarily exposed for just anyone anymore. He had no reason to be. He’d found the woman who made him happy—he didn’t need to search for that anywhere else. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little jealous, but I was also sincerely happy for the guy. For all of them. Together that threesome made quite a team.
Tucking the invitation and the rest of the mail under my arm, I unlocked my door and walked into my empty apartment. Entering the darkness and the silence, the reminders of all the things I didn’t have that Marcus did, I decided I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed to talk to her.
Switching on a light and then collapsing onto the couch, I kicked off my shoes, typed out a text, and let my thumb hover over the send button.
Me: I miss you. Can we talk?
I sat there staring at that screen for what seemed like hours. In the end, I chickened out. Just a little more time. That’s all we needed. I thought back to that invitation—it could be a start. She’d be at that party. It was only a few months away. Maybe by then I’d be able to make promises. Promises that could be kept, not broken.
After my first date with Griffin, two nights after our meeting at the beach, he convinced me with his good manners, witty conversation and that to-die-for dimple to go out with him again a few nights later.
This time we were headed to a restaurant his friend owned in SoHo. Rather than drive and pay a fortune to park, we decided to take the train into the city and enjoy the warm summer breeze as we walked from the train station to our destination. It was the perfect beginning to a second date.
He hooked his arm in mine as we strolled and laughed, and it occurred to me that I already felt at ease with him for only knowing him a short time. While I was definitely attracted to Griffin—did I mention he was smoking hot—I was not jumping that gun again. Whatever was happening between us already felt very different than anything I’d ever experienced with a guy.
Maybe it was that he was older and more mature. Maybe it was that he was reserved and old fashioned, not trying any funny business on our first date. Or maybe it was just that even though I had fun spending time with Griffin, my mind was still preoccupied with thoughts of Beck.
Whatever it was, I owed it to Griffin to be in the moment and give him my full attention. “So how do you know this friend?” I asked, curious to find out more about my enigmatic date.
“Buddy from high school. Great guy. We spent a summer in Europe together on one of those student exchange type things. He decided to take in the culture through his mouth—big dude, by the way—and I took it all in through my eyes. Bought my first camera as soon as I got back to the states. Haven’t stop snapping since.”
“For someone who snaps so often, I haven’t seen your camera once.”
“You haven’t seen it, but it’s seen you.” He winked.
“Huh?”
“I took a few candids on the beach that day. Haven’t had a chance to really look over them yet, but I know they’re beautiful.” He smiled, focusing those smoldering eyes on my mouth.
That look right there secured him the first kiss green light. If he didn’t try to at least do that tonight, I might go in for the kill myself.
“Creepy,” I joked, trying to hide the way my heart was thumping, thinking about his lips on mine.
“Creepy? Do you make a habit of letting creepy men take you out twice in one week?”
“Maybe,” I shrugged.
He laughed, a hearty, deep laugh, and pulled me closer to him as he continued to guide me down a few more blocks.
When we arrived at a restaurant sporting a yellow and red awning and emitting mouth-watering aromas, he unhooked our arms. Opening the door, he placed his hand on my back and led me inside. “After you.”
“Thanks.” It was a simple gesture, but it again proved what a gentleman he was.
We stood at the hostess’s podium for a few seconds and Griffin took out his phone to call someone. I thought it was weird timing to make a phone call, but when he started to speak, I realized what he was doing. “Hey. We’re here,” he said. He must’ve been calling his friend, the restaurant owner.
He put his phone back in his pocket and motioned for me to sit on a bench in the lobby. “He should be right out. When I told him I was bringing you he went all out. Seems we’ll have a private table and special attention tonight.”
“That’s very sweet, Griffin, but he didn’t have to do that.” I looked around to the other tables in the dining area. Although it wasn’t necessary, having our own private area might actually be a great idea. This place was loud. There’d be no way to carry on a normal conversation over the noise.
“Well, he did. And here he comes.” Griffin stood, extending his hand to me.
I willingly grabbed it and stood to join him.
“Griffin, buddy,” the large, round man bombarded my date with a hug, clapping him on the back a few times.
“Sonny! So good to see you again. It’s been too long.”
“Well, I guess I have to thank this lovely creature for finally getting you out here. Not like you don’t live right over the damn bridge or anything.”
“I know. I have no excuse. I guess I’ve been a bit of a recluse these days.”
“A rude recluse. Introduce me to this stunner.” Griffin’s friend had a warm smile and welcoming eyes. He used them to eye me up and down
, but there was nothing scrutinizing about it.
“Sorry, Sonny, this is Riley. Riley, this is Sonny.”
“So nice to meet you. Your place looks—and smells—amazing.” Extending my hand to shake Sonny’s, he grabbed it and brought me in for an unexpected hug.
“Any friend of Griffin’s is a friend of mine. Come on. If you think it smells great, wait ‘til you taste what I prepared for you two tonight.”
Sonny did not disappoint. Everything from the signature martini he’d created just for me to the homemade gnocchi pesto entrée I was currently polishing off my plate.
“I take it you didn’t like the food?” Griffin joked, watching me stuff my face.
Suddenly embarrassed, I dropped my fork and picked up my napkin to wipe my mouth. “I don’t usually indulge like this. I actually haven’t had a carb in way too long, but this—” I stared at the few gnocchi left, dying to finish them off. “This was incredible. Your friend is quite the chef.”
Griffin laughed, taking another sip of his own drink—some kind of scotch that was supposedly aged to perfection and a beverage he and Sonny had had many fun times sharing in the past. “Yeah, he knows a thing or two about how to make the taste buds happy.”
I couldn’t help myself at that comment. I was having a great time—again—and he deserved to know. “And you know a thing or two about how to make the ladies happy.”
Tilting his head and arching a brow, he leaned in closer and took my hand from across the table. “I want to take you back to my place.”
Keep Her Page 17