Written in Ink (Montgomery Ink #4)

by Carrie Ann Ryan

  Only this time, Maya couldn’t help but feel different.

  Jake wasn’t just sleeping with this woman. He was falling for her.

  Things were getting serious. He’d introduced Holly to his family, the crazy Gallaghers who rivaled the Montgomerys in drama and ink. And now he’d introduced Holly to the Montgomerys. Maya had a feeling that soon, Jake would get down on one knee and make Holly his in truth and forever.

  Maya should be happy for him. Because despite what her family thought, she’d only ever loved Jake as her best friend. She’d never allowed herself to think about him as something more. As soon as she did that, she’d lose him forever. It was what she did. She fucked a man then fucked it up royally. She’d rather have Jake as her best friend, who she never slept with, than have him for a night or two and lose the one man she could tell anything to.

  But…but something was wrong.

  Her heart hurt.

  She rubbed her hand over her chest as Jake and Holly laughed about something they’d seen at the park. Maya forced a smile, and she knew Jake didn’t see it. If he’d been paying attention to her and not the woman she had a feeling he loved, then he’d have seen the strain, seen the lie.

  But he didn’t see.

  He only saw Holly.

  And that had to be good enough.

  Because this was not jealousy she was feeling.

  Not at all.

  Maya Montgomery did not love Jake Gallagher.

  Jake was her best friend. Not the man she’d grow old with.

  Jake would be with Holly, and Maya would be…

  Maya would be okay.

  Because she had to be.

  Chapter Nine

  Writing sucked ass.

  Griffin wanted to slam his head against his desk once again but stopped himself. Mostly because Autumn was staring at him and he didn’t want to look like an idiot. Since the accident, he’d done everything he could on the other side of writing so he didn’t actually have to try and type. Contrary to popular belief, writers didn’t normally light a candle and type in one sitting until a polished manuscript appeared. It wasn’t like Jim Carrey typing on his computer in that one movie where he played a man with God’s powers for the week, manically slamming his hands on the keyboard until words appeared.

  Griffin couldn’t slam much of anything with his broken hand. He knew the hand he’d held out from his body had been to try and protect Autumn, and it wouldn’t have helped in that kind of collision no matter what he’d done, but he probably would have done it again. He didn’t want her hurt. Couldn’t even think it.

  And he’d have to dive deeper into those thoughts and emotions later because there was no way he could do it with her in the room, looking at him with abject pity. The fierce resolve mixing with the pity in her eyes, though, worried him more.

  She wanted to fix this, and would have probably written the book herself if she could. No matter how many times he told her the accident wasn’t her fault, she didn’t listen. She blamed herself, and the longer he sat looking at his keyboard like it was the enemy, the worse she would feel.

  Hence why Griffin needed to fix this. Now.

  “We will figure this out,” Autumn said softly.

  He turned to look over his shoulder and lifted one side of his mouth in a semblance of a smile. “Yeah, we will.” He stared back at his keyboard that mocked him with all its precious keys. “Somehow.”

  “You can always type one-handed…”

  He snorted then smiled at her again. It must have come out as a grimace because she winced. “I could try, but that’s a lot of hunting and pecking on a deadline. It’s not off the table, though.”

  “And you’re right handed, so handwriting it is out, too.”

  He nodded. “Yep.” And even if he could write it out, someone would have to type it, and he wasn’t sure if he liked the idea of anyone—especially her—seeing his book in its raw form.

  “What about dictation software? That would save your hands. And I think you just have to download it.”

  He blew out a breath. “I actually already have it and have tried it a few times to try and save my wrists.” He turned in his chair to fully face her. “It’s a mess. I spend more time editing what the thing thought I said rather than what I actually said. It’s horrible for fiction, honestly. It censors any cursing or sex I have in the book, and it never gets the names right. Plus the hes and shes are fucked over. But it’s better than staring at a blank screen and missing my final deadline.”

  Autumn pressed her lips together before speaking. “You can try that for a bit…and I can be the software too if you want.”

  He frowned. “Huh?”

  “You can dictate to me. I’ll type for you. You just have to say what you want me to write. I know it will be hard, but I understand the names and cursing and everything like that. I promise I won’t judge or change anything you want to write. I’ll be your hands if you’ll let me.”

  He sat back in his chair and let his gaze fall to his cast. She wanted to type for him? He hadn’t even thought of something like that, and on the outside, it sounded like the perfect solution. From the inside, though, it was as if he were baring his soul for her to see every little bit of him. He wasn’t sure he could do that, show her who he truly was through his words. But he did that every day with his books anyway, didn’t he? Only readers didn’t know that. Didn’t know that each time he put his characters through the ringer, he was doing it to himself, as well. Each time he kept his characters on the run, he was running right alongside them, out of breath and lost until the next action came along.

  Could he let Autumn see that part of him?

  Did he have a choice?

  “Forget it,” Autumn said quickly as she stood, running her hands over her skirt as if straightening the nonexistent creases. “I shouldn’t have said something like that since you’re so private about your work as it is. The hunting and pecking might be your best bet at this point.” She turned to walk out, and Griffin cursed under his breath.

  “Wait. Come back. I was just thinking about what you being my hands would mean. I wasn’t pushing you away. Sit for a minute. Okay?” He gestured toward his thinking chair, rather than the one she’d sat in before. “You can even sit there, it’s more comfortable anyway. And maybe it’ll help us figure this out truly.”

  She narrowed her eyes, studying his face, then slowly made her way to his lush, leather thinking chair and sat down on the edge primly.

  He didn’t want to think about how hot she looked just then, all prim and proper with a mix of hippy nomad thrown in for good measure. He wanted to bend her over that chair and fuck her hard until they both were a pile of limbs on the leather, sweaty and begging for more.

  “It could work…” he said slowly. “But it won’t be easy. I’ve never…I’ve never put my thoughts out in the air like that. They always go straight to the page, you know?”

  She relaxed some, letting her hands fall to her sides and she leaned into the plush chair. “I know. That’s why I saved that idea for last.”

  He snorted. “Well, thanks for trying to spare my feelings at least.”

  “I try.”

  He smiled fully then, even though his career was rapidly spiraling away from him and he didn’t have the hands to hold on for dear life.

  “I don’t know how to dictate my book, Autumn. I don’t even know how I write. It just…happens.” He frowned. “No, that’s not right. I outline if I can and plot out story arcs and pray it works. And then I sit at the computer and usually let the words fall from me. It’s a job, not a passion. Or not just a passion. This book has just been harder than the others for some reason.”

  “Maybe because you were so worried about what would happen if you didn’t do your job, you ended up not doing it anyway.”

  “That had something to do with it.”

  Autumn licked her lips, and he grew hard at the sight of her cute pink tongue darting out over her plump mouth. She swallowed
hard, and he met her gaze. She wanted him and was fighting it. Well, damn, he was fighting it, too. And once he opened his world, opened his words to her, it would make wanting her in his bed that much trickier. It might be worth it, though.

  “Um…why don’t you start talking about what book you’re working on and maybe that will help?”

  “You don’t sound so sure.” He leaned forward, the scent of her lotion making him want to taste, to touch.

  “It’s the first time I’ve done this, you know.”

  “How about you tell me about the book you’re reading.”

  She frowned. “What does that have to do with anything? That book has nothing to do with yours.”

  “Not necessarily true. I want to know how your brain works, how you like your books. And maybe talking about books, in general, will make it easier for me to talk about my own in a capacity behind a shielded interview.”

  “Fine. I’m reading a romance. I love romances. Love watching two—or sometimes three—people find their way through the world, through pain and sacrifice, through everyday things to a happy ending.”

  He smiled. “I read romances too, Autumn. They aren’t just a woman’s game.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Say what? You don’t write romances.”

  “True. I find it harder to get to the happy ending, and like the thriller suspense act a bit more when it comes to what I write. But I read every genre I can. Just because I don’t write it, doesn’t mean I don’t respect it.”

  “But…but you killed off a character’s HEA.”

  “Did I?” he asked, genuinely confused. “She wasn’t his happy ending, Autumn. He’s not at the ending yet. Neither of my main characters is.”

  “But what if they want to be?”

  “Then I’ll know it’s time to end the series. I’m not there yet.” He didn’t know if he’d ever be at this rate. He still had to find the path he needed for his current book, let alone the rest of the books for each of his two main characters in his two series.

  She let out a breath. “Can I say something and you not get angry?”

  He tilted his head, studying her face. “You can say something, but I can’t gauge my reaction until you say it.”

  She smiled a little and bit her lip. Damn that lip, he wanted a bite for himself. “Your characters are always running. Always going from one thing to the next and never standing still for fear of what is coming after them. Do you do that on purpose?”

  He froze before forcing himself to relax. “It’s a suspense, they need to run. They aren’t safe if they stand still.”

  “I understand that,” she whispered, so low he thought he might have imagined the words themselves.

  She intrigued him. She always had, and now her secrets were tugging on his writer’s brain. He wanted to unveil what he could, unwrap her until she was his…at least for the moment.

  She cleared her throat. “Are you ever planning to give your characters a romance that works?” Clearly she didn’t want to talk about what she’d just whispered. He’d let it go. For now.

  “Maybe. It depends on how things work out for them.”

  “But they need something, don’t they? A connection to that reason why they find the bad guys, why they fight. They need a purpose to go on those missions rather than just to save the world. Right?”

  He smiled softly. “True. But that doesn’t necessarily mean the purpose will be a romance. Finding themselves is just as important as finding the culprit.” And the basis for his series, even though not all understood that. Though now that he truly thought about it, he knew it was more than that.

  Why bother solving the thrills, finding those bad guys as she put it when they came home to nothing.

  Why bother writing them when he was alone himself…

  Lauren filled his mind once more and he blinked. He hadn’t thought about her in years, and yet he’d thought of her twice in as many weeks.

  “What put those shadows in your eyes?” she asked, her voice soft, hesitant.

  He cleared his throat. She’d be seeing inside him soon enough when he opened his mind for his book. He may as well tell her.

  “I was actually thinking of Lauren.”

  She pulled back, a look of pain on her face for a mere moment before she carefully masked it.

  Fuck.

  “Lauren was my girlfriend in high school. She died of cancer right after graduation. She wanted to be an editor for a big publisher and live the city life. That wasn’t what I wanted, but I figured I could have worked with it. We were young, but hell, my siblings had gotten married and all that at my age.” He met her gaze, folding his hands in front of him as he leaned on his thighs. “The fact that both those marriages are done for now hasn’t escaped me.”

  “You loved her.”

  “I loved her as much as I could have as a teenager. I don’t know if it’s the same love as an adult. I haven’t been in love as an adult. That could be a reason I don’t write about my characters being in love since I’ve never felt it at their ages. But I also don’t chase down terrorists and defuse bombs on a daily basis, so it’s not the ‘write what you know’ bullshit. I’m getting sidetracked.” He let out a breath. “The cancer came on fast and hard. She was diagnosed before prom and died that summer. I don’t know if we would have made it as adults, but I do know we never had a chance. That’s what I was thinking about. How I don’t have the romance or HEA that you think my characters deserve.”

  “You miss her,” she whispered, her eyes set on his. There weren’t tears in them, but he saw the emotion.

  “Yeah. She was my friend. Decker was my best friend, still is, even though we’ve grown up and grow into our lives. But Lauren was my friend. My first for a lot of things. And now she’s gone, and it sucks that she didn’t get a chance to experience life.” He scrunched his face. “It sucks she never got to read a book I got published.”

  Autumn stood up and walked toward him. He leaned back and stared at her as she stood between his legs, her hands trailing up his arms as it looked as if she were deep in thought.

  “I’m sorry for making you remember.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t be. I’d rather remember than forget her. She deserved more than that.” He gripped Autumn’s wrist with his uninjured hand. “I didn’t mention her to tell you she was the one for me and that I haven’t been with another since because that would be a lie. It’s been over a decade. She may have shaped who I was, but she hasn’t shaped who I am now. I honestly don’t know why I thought of her then, except we were talking about lost happy endings. She was a lost happy ending, but hopefully, she won’t be my only chance at that happily ever after.”

  Autumn cupped his face and studied him. He let out a breath, wanting more of her gentle hold. Here he was, talking about Lauren when all he wanted was Autumn. He should have felt ashamed, dirty, but he didn’t. He knew Lauren would have wanted him to move on. And he had in a sense. Only he didn’t know what he was doing now—in life or with his words. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe that’s why he kept thinking of a girl long since gone. Because he’d thought he’d known who he was back then. Perhaps now it was time for him to figure out he was again.

  Who he was with Autumn.

  He slid his hand up her hip over her dress and let it settle there. “I want to kiss you again, Autumn. Are you going to be okay with that?”

  She nodded. “I think I’m okay for more. It’s beyond stupid. I need to help you with work…and I won’t be here for long, Griffin.” She stared at him intensely. “I never stay anywhere for too long.”

  His hand tightened on her hip and he forced himself to relax it. “I wish you’d tell me why. I wish you’d tell me the secrets in your eyes.”

  She shut them, her jaw tightening. “I can’t.”

  “Then can you give me what you have to give? Give me what you need? Because I’ll take that, Autumn. I want you, you know that. I’ve wanted you from the start, and I’ll do my best not to hurt you,
not to let what happens from here on out interfere with what needs to happen with other things in our lives. But you need to tell me you’re okay with that. You need to tell me you want me too, and that you know that once you walk away for good, that you won’t hate me for it.”

  She opened her eyes and lowered her head. “I can’t hate you for what is out of your control. I can’t hate you for running, because, in the end, it will be me that goes.”

  He didn’t know why that hurt, but he pushed it aside like he had all the other times words had hurt. Words were far more powerful than most believed. That’s why he wrote them. He’d be with Autumn in this time, in this place. And when it ended, he’d store the memories where he stored those that were just for him, not for his books, not for his worlds. If only she’d tell him why she ran, why she kept her secrets. But she wasn’t in a place to tell him, and for now, that would have to do. He didn’t know what would happen after, what would happen once she opened her eyes fully and saw him for what he was, what he had to give, but he’d take everything he could.

  “No more talking,” Griffin whispered. “Not tonight.”

  She shook her head. “No strings, Griffin. This isn’t about what you lost, what you think I’m hiding. This is just us.”

  “That I can do, Autumn. Now lean down a bit. I want to taste your lips.”

  With that, she did as he asked and leaned forward, pressing her lips to his. He groaned at the contact, the hand on her hip tightening once more. She opened for him, sliding her tongue along his. He pulled her closer so she pressed her legs to the chair and his thighs encased her. His hand slid around her hip to her ass, squeezing and molding.

  He pulled away from her touch, taking a deep breath. “Sorry I’m one-handed, Fall,” he said on a laugh.

  She kissed the side of his mouth, his jaw, then behind his ear. He let out a strangled moan as her hand slid down his chest and she gripped him through his jeans.

  “I have two hands, Griffin. More than enough, I hope. And I bet you can use that one hand and that sexy mouth of yours to make me come more than once tonight. What do you say?” She bit her lip then leaned forward again to bite his.