Written in Ink (Montgomery Ink #4)

by Carrie Ann Ryan

  But he didn’t want to hear it.

  He saved his almost blank page just in case and pushed back from his desk, rolling his wrists as he did. They were starting to ache something fierce, and he figured he was well on his way to carpal tunnel if he didn’t start taking care of himself.

  He looked around at the mess of papers covering his room and the empty coffee cups and processed foods littering every surface.

  Perhaps taking care of himself should lead to other areas of his life, as well.

  Only now he wanted some sour patch kids and another cup of coffee because that would help him get a move on with his book. Sugar and caffeine were a writer’s fuel. He didn’t write drunk and edit sober as the memes claimed Hemmingway had once said, but maybe he should add a bit of drinking to his work.

  Maybe that would help.

  He thought back to his brother and the pain Alex was in at the moment, and Griffin immediately wanted to kick himself.

  Drinking wouldn’t help him. It never helped anyone. So maybe he needed to find his words and his will to write in other ways. Thoughts of Autumn and those delicious curves filled his mind and he groaned. Getting laid might help him clear his head, but it wouldn’t be with Autumn. Griffin knew his three sisters well enough to know that if he dared to touch any of their friends, he’d end up with a bloody lip thanks to Maya, a punch in the gut courtesy of Miranda, and a glower to end all glowers from Meghan.

  Damn sisters knew exactly where to draw blood.

  He put his hands on his hips and looked around his office, ignoring the mess as he always did. He’d deal with the clutter once he finished his book. Of course, he said that after each book, and after each one, he got just a bit messier and a tad more desperate. At one point, he’d hired a cleaning service but had let them go after they kept interrupting his work.

  Since he lived alone and didn’t have anyone to rely on him when it came to being taken care of, he worked on his own schedule. So the service hadn’t been able to pin down a time that would be good to show up and start the deep clean. After the third time of Griffin freaking out and yelling, they’d cancelled the service for him.

  His family didn’t know the exact details of how it had ended, but he knew they were disappointed that he couldn’t function as a civilized person in society.

  Well, fuck that. He was a writer. He didn’t have to be civilized.

  And look at that, he had a new tagline for the website his editor had wanted him to update a year ago.

  He honestly wasn’t that much of a loser. He went on dates when he felt like it and made it to family dinners and other events. Every few weeks he threw away most of the trash in his house, and up until recently, he’d been on top of his job and all that came with it. Only it turned out that after a few books, writing wasn’t just writing anymore. He had to deal with…people.

  Yes.

  People.

  He might look like a people person, considering he could smile and have fun once he was outside his home, but he’d rather be alone and confined to his thinking chair with a good book. Or, preferably, writing a good book.

  He didn’t have time to deal with social media, book tours, contracts, and other important things that came with being a writer, but he still did what he could with them. Most people in his line of work after his kind of success had a personal assistant or team that could help him with some of that, but he’d never felt the need to hire another person. He could do what he had to. Alone. He didn’t need anyone else.

  He looked around at his dirty room and thought of his lack of book, his outdated website, the stack of letters he knew were in his PO Box that he hadn’t checked in four months, and various other things that he knew he was sorely behind on and cursed.

  Maybe he wasn’t handling it all.

  Maybe he wasn’t handling any of it.

  But damn it, he didn’t want to rely on another person. Why couldn’t he just write what his characters needed and call it a day? Since when did writing become work?

  Probably around the time he’d gotten his first advance and figured out that writing could earn him a living rather than just fill endless notebooks under his bed.

  Of course if he could just write like he wanted to, would letting writing become fun and not work actually happen? The blank pages staring at him and judging were evidence that maybe he wasn’t as good as he thought he was. Maybe he sucked ass and needed to go into the family business.

  Of course, he couldn’t draw for shit, and though he loved getting ink, he wasn’t a fan of blood. So, joining Austin and Maya at their tattoo shop was out. And then there was that one time with the saw that shall never be mentioned again so he wouldn’t be joining the twins and the crew at the construction company either. He’d already said he didn’t much like people; so becoming a teacher where he’d work with little ones and Miranda wouldn’t work. He could take a decent photograph, but he didn’t have the talent Alex did when it came to being a photographer, so Griffin was pretty much screwed when it came to joining one of the family businesses.

  He loved writing. He really did.

  Or perhaps, he loved having written. It was the writing that sucked.

  Hard.

  “Knock knock!”

  Griffin turned on his heel at his mother’s voice at the front door and again wondered why he’d given his parents the key to his home. All of the Montgomery kids had in case of emergencies, and usually, his parents knocked and even called ahead before coming over. However, his mother knew him well. Knew him enough to realize that he probably wouldn’t have answered the door if he were in his writing cave. It was a bad habit, but he didn’t think he was about to stop it any time soon.

  He looked over his shoulder at his mess of an office and knew the rest of his house wasn’t fairing much better. It hadn’t been quite this bad in a while, but this was a hard book and an even tougher deadline.

  He was a thirty-something-year-old man and was still worried about how his mother would react to seeing the mess he’d made in his own home. He wasn’t sure the bedroom he’d shared with his brothers in the past had been this bad, but hell; this wasn’t going to end well.

  “Come in,” he said dryly as he made his way into the living room. He stopped short when he saw that his mother wasn’t alone.

  The M&Ms were with her—Maya, Miranda, and Meghan. The only Montgomery woman missing was Sierra, but he figured she was home with the new baby.

  When most of the women in his life showed up unannounced with scowls on their faces and hands on their hips, it couldn’t end well for Griffin.

  “Seriously, Griffin?” Maya clicked her tongue ring against her teeth and raised her brow. The ring there glittered under the sunlight peeking through his dark blinds.

  He stuffed his hands in his pockets and leaned back on his heels. He was big, bearded, inked, and could fight with the best of them, but damn, his mom and sisters knew how to make him feel like he was a kid again. Just two words and a look and he knew he was in deep shit.

  “Why are you here?” he asked, tired already.

  “Is that any way to greet your mother?” Marie Montgomery asked with a smile. She opened her arms and he shuffled toward her, picking her up in a tight hug. He may be in trouble, but he wasn’t about to say no to a hug from her.

  “Hi, Mom,” he mumbled and kissed the top of her head.

  “That’s better,” she said as she patted his back. “Now, we’re here for a reason, though we do enjoy seeing you.”

  He stood back and raised his brow at Meghan and Miranda, who hadn’t spoken, but had similarly raised brows and side smiles on their faces like his mother.

  “I figured you didn’t stop by en masse just to shoot the shit.”

  “Language,” Marie snapped with a smile.

  He rolled his eyes at Miranda, who put her hand over her mouth to presumably hold back a laugh. Marie Montgomery cursed more than they did, but she still had fun parenting her kids when she could.

  �
�So, what’s up?” he asked, trying not to meet Miranda’s eyes. If he did, he’d break out in a laugh, and he had a feeling his mom wouldn’t like that.

  “You’re a mess, Grif,” Meghan said softly.

  He winced. “And this is different than usual, how?”

  Miranda snorted. “You don’t even want to deny that you’re a mess.”

  He held his hands out and looked around the room. Clothes and dirty dishes littered every surface. Dust had piled up to the point he was pretty sure the dirt had run along with his plot bunnies and created hybrid creatures of doom. He was fairly certain the only things he had in his fridge were old eggs, some butter, and the beer Storm and Wes had left last week. Actually, he may have finished the beer the night before.

  “Griffin, honey, you need help.” His mother sighed but didn’t try to help him clean up. She’d stopped doing that ages ago, and he was glad for it. He might be a slob on deadline, but it wasn’t his mother’s job to clean up after him. She had enough to deal with without including his mess of a life.

  “I tried to hire cleaning services before and it didn’t work out. I’ll clean up after I finish my book. I promise.”

  Maya huffed. “You always clean up and eat well again after you finish a book. It’s your MO. But it’s different this time. You’re behind on your deadline.”

  He took a step back, his eyes wide. “How the hell did you know that?”

  “The twins told us,” Meghan answered. He raised a brow. “You were drunk and mentioned it to them the last time you hung out. Really, I didn’t know beer loosened your tongue like that. Anyway, I know I used to come over and help out when I could, but I can’t anymore. None of us can.”

  Way to make him feel like a loser. “I never asked you to help me out, but I’ve always been grateful for it. Now, why don’t you tell me why you’re really here and stop harping on me for being who I am.”

  “Oh, shut up,” Maria said. “We’re here to help, and you are just going to have to deal. I know you like doing everything on your own, but you shouldn’t have to.”

  “So we’re stepping in.”

  Griffin frowned, a sense of something wrong climbing up his back. “You just said you weren’t.”

  “We won’t be helping personally, but we will help in a way,” his mother said slowly. He opened his mouth to speak, but she held up her hand. “Let me finish. You are a grown man and I understand that. You work your ass off and do things with words that I’ve never thought of. You are one of my babies and bright stars. But you don’t know how to ask for help. In fact, I’m pretty sure none of my kids do. Maybe that’s my fault, but at least you’re independent, right?”

  “Mom…” he whispered.

  “Shush. Now, where was I? Oh, yes, you are a brilliant writer, Griffin. Your books do well, and you have an amazing presence. But you are behind on everything else. I know you’re behind on your words as well, and that’s got to be a kick in the pants. So, what we’re going to do is help you.”

  “You said that before, but I don’t understand what you mean.”

  “We’ve hired you a personal assistant,” Maya added.

  His gaze snapped to his sisters. “What the fuck? You know I need to have a hand in that. You can’t just randomly hire someone for me that will be a part of my life and work.”

  “We can and we did,” Miranda said simply. “You’ll like her.”

  “Her?”

  “Yes, her,” Meghan added. “She’ll be here to help you clean and cook since you’re beyond doing that. Though you might want to learn to take care of yourself as an adult. I know that might be asking too much, though.”

  “I don’t need a live-in maid,” Griffin snapped.

  “You do, honey. But she’s not going to live here,” his mother said. “She’s going to help you organize your office the way you want to and the way it needs to be done. She knows how to program, so she’s going to update your website. She’ll run your social media for you so you actually have an online presence.”

  “You know what social media is?” he asked, his brain going in a hundred different directions.

  “I can tweet and Facebook like nobody’s business, young man. Now let me finish!”

  He lowered his head at his mother’s tone. Fuck, it was like he was still a little kid.

  “Anyway, she’s going to help you run your life. Your brain is hurting right now, and sitting in your own filth and worrying about your deadline isn’t helping. So we’re stepping in and showing you that you can be an adult.”

  “And you can’t back out of it,” Miranda sighed. “No matter how much you want to.”

  “She’s going to help you run your life because God knows you can’t do it yourself,” Maya added.

  “And you can’t fire her because we’re the ones that hired her,” Meghan added then frowned. “Though you’ll be paying her since you make more money than us, but whatever.”

  Griffin pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t want a PA or anyone in his home when he needed to work. The thing was, he wasn’t working. He knew he needed help, but that didn’t mean he wanted to deal with it.

  “Who did you hire?” he asked, his voice low. “Who do you think can work with me and take over my life? Because that’s a lot of skills you’re talking about. In fact, that sounds like it’s more than one person’s job.”

  “Well, you can’t do it all even though you think you can,” Maya said. “And you’ll like her.” He looked up at his sister to see the wide grin on her face. “In fact, I think you already do like her.”

  “Who?” he asked again, his fists clenching.

  “Autumn, of course,” Meghan said with a smile. “Who else would be able to handle you and your bad tempers other than Fall?”

  “And you can’t say no,” his mother reminded him. “It’s already taken care of. You’re stuck with her, and you will treat her with respect. Got me, boy?”

  Griffin closed his eyes and groaned. Well, fuck. “Autumn? You’re kidding me, right? I thought she worked with Meghan?”

  “She does,” Meghan answered. “And she will work with you. And you’ll be happy about it. Because if you mess with her and piss her off, she’ll kick your ass. And then I’ll kick your ass because she’s my friend.”

  Griffin wanted to kick the girls out and stomp back to his room. There was no way this would work. Autumn would take one look at his place and run away. There was no way she’d want to stay and work with him. There was also no way he’d be able to deal with her so close to him while he was trying to figure out what the fuck to do with his book.

  Maybe that was it. Maybe he’d let her see what she was in for and let her walk away. Because no matter what, Autumn couldn’t be his personal assistant. No one could. He lived alone, worked alone, and breathed alone. It was the way he’d worked so far, and damn it, it was the way he would continue to work.

  There wasn’t another option.

  Autumn wouldn’t last long, and then she’d be out of his life forever.

  And why the hell did that make his stomach hurt? For that reason and more, he knew he had to find a way out of this. Only he wasn’t sure how he was going to do that with the women in his life staring at him the way they were. They wanted Autumn in his life, and the damned woman had said yes. And it looked like Griffin didn’t have a choice at all.

  Well, shit.

  Chapter Three

  What the hell had she been thinking? Autumn didn’t just react when it came to her life. She couldn’t afford to. It might look like she went from job to job, place to place, without second thoughts or a care in her head, but she worked hard at that misconception. She didn’t move without doing as much research as possible so she could make sure she wasn’t followed. Or at least be as sure as she could. She also didn’t take jobs randomly, despite the fact that she had held so many since high school her resume looked as if it had been patchworked from four different people rather than merely one. That was, of course, if she’d actuall
y had a resume…

  Yet when Meghan has approached her with the offhand comment of helping Griffin, she’d said yes. Griffin’s sister had wanted to help her brother but knew she couldn’t do it all. While Autumn was happy Meghan wasn’t trying to take everything on herself, she shouldn’t have said yes to the other woman.

  It made no sense.

  Sure she could clean, cook, organize, program and pretty much do most of the things Meghan thought Griffin needed, but she shouldn’t have said yes. The damned man had called her Fall.

  Yeah, he’d rolled his eyes after he’d said it, so at least he hadn’t been too serious. And to be honest, she’d laughed a little at the joke because it was that bad, but still. She shouldn’t be getting closer to the Montgomerys. She should be severing ties so she could pack up and leave as soon as she could. She’d done her damndest over time to make sure no one truly knew who she was. That way, by the time she moved away, people would only remember a faint whisper of her presence. Unlike here, where she’d been given nicknames and worked with the whole family in one way or another.

  The damn Montgomerys sure knew how to wrap a person up in their web of family, connection, and happiness.

  It was enough to give a girl on the run an ulcer.

  She didn’t want to work for Griffin. The man was too sexy for his own good. She had practically swallowed her tongue the last time she’d seen him, and now she’d be in his house. Daily. For hours. Alone. Just him and her. And the voices in his head that led to a book. She had to admit she was fascinated with his process since she didn’t actually know anything about it. She’d always wanted to know how someone could write a book. She might have ideas and love reading, but she couldn’t sit down in front of a computer or a notebook for hours at a time and try to build a story.

  Autumn had read his books—though she hadn’t told him that. The man was talented, and while she usually saved as much of her precious income as possible, she usually forked over the money for a hardback as soon as the book released.