He poured himself a shot of whiskey and tossed it back. “Sometimes I think I would’ve been happier if I was still a guitar teacher, you know? Building a life with you.”
A loud click sounded. Did the doors just lock? She slowly leaned toward the handle and tested it. Locked. Her eyes flew to his.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “The driver locked it for safety. You don’t want to fly out on the freeway, do you?”
She settled uneasily back in the seat.
“We’re having dinner at Grinaldi’s,” he informed her. “Skyline view.”
“I promised to meet Dave for dinner,” she said.
He raised a brow. “Call and tell him you can’t make it.”
“No.”
He lifted one shoulder up and down.
She pulled her cell from her purse, hit Dave’s number, when Griff snatched it out of her hand, tucking it into his back pocket. “Give that back!”
“You’ll get it back after dinner.”
“You can’t kidnap me!”
Griff snorted. “It’s just dinner.”
“What do you want from me?”
“I want a second chance.”
“You won’t get one this way. You can’t force someone to dinner and force them back into a marriage. It doesn’t work that way!”
Steph fumed. She couldn’t believe Griff was acting like this. Especially after he’d been so sweet to her brother. After he promised to take care of him no matter what. Was that his plan? To win her over through Joey? She wouldn’t let him manipulate her that way.
“Griff, you don’t have to take care of Joey after the divorce. I absolve you of all responsibility. Dave and I will take care of him.”
Griff stared at her, incredulous. “You’re turning down my money?”
Steph felt a little sick at the thought of uprooting Joey, but what could she do? This was wrong. Plain and simple.
“Yes,” she said.
Griff was silent, looking out the window. He turned back to her. “You’d just let Dave take my place?”
“You can still have a relationship with Joey. He loves you. I won’t stand between you. But, I won’t let you use him to get to me.”
The window separating them from the driver rolled down. “We have to stop for gas,” a feminine voice said. “There’s a lot of traffic up ahead. I don’t want to stall out.”
“Fine,” Griff said.
“And then I need to go home,” Steph said.
“We’re skipping Grinaldi’s,” Griff added with a frown.
They pulled off at the next rest stop. The driver, a woman dressed plainly in a hoodie and jeans, opened the back door. “This thing takes a while to fill up. Why don’t you get yourself a snack or something?”
Griff pulled Steph out of the car with him. “Come on.”
She followed him to the small gas station mart. “Who is that? Why was she hiding behind a tree at Horizon Village?”
“Mandy. She’s just part of the Griffin Huntley machine. She’s harmless.”
She glanced over her shoulder to find the woman watching them. Griff slung his arm around her shoulder and whispered in her ear, “How about a Yoo-hoo?”
She laughed. He used to tease her about still liking Yoo-hoo chocolate drink as an adult. “I’d love one,” she said.
He smiled down at her for a moment, then headed to the gas mart to get one. She was glad he seemed to have no hard feelings over her rejection.
~ ~ ~
Dave was somewhere between jealousy and a white-hot rage after his sister emailed him the news story about Griffin and Stephanie. It was one of those stupid gossip websites talking about the famous couple getting back together. A rumor he could handle. That could be a lie. But this picture of Griffin and Steph didn’t lie. Griffin had his arm around Steph, who was beaming up at him. Griffin was smiling down at her like she was his.
He took a few deep breaths, forcing himself to think rationally. There was only one explanation that made sense. Steph had lied to him. She’d said they were just visiting her brother. Yet she still wasn’t back from what should’ve been a day trip. She was just hanging out with Griffin at sunset, smiling at him, letting him touch her.
Dammit. He should’ve known. How could he ever have thought for even one nanosecond that he could compete with Griffin Huntley, rock star? He was just a middle school math teacher. The most exciting thing he could offer Steph was help grading her papers.
His cell rang. Steph’s number. He couldn’t answer. He was too furious. He felt like a complete fool, and he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from spewing his anger all over her. He quickly shut off the phone.
~ ~ ~
Steph grew increasingly worried on the ride back home. Dave wasn’t answering his cell. That wasn’t like him. He was expecting her call, too.
“No answer, huh?” Griff asked. “He probably forgot to charge it.”
“No, he charges it every night.” She tried again and it went straight to voicemail. He wasn’t answering the phone at his house either.
Griff started humming a melody to himself. “I wrote this song a few days ago. For you. It’s called ‘Missing Limb.’”
She wanted to cover her ears, as juvenile as that was. Then he sang about love and loss. About how he wished he had amnesia so he could forget her. About how she was a part of him. The best part.
What was she supposed to do about Griff? When he was focused on her, she felt the sincerity of his words, the love behind them. But once his attention shifted, it was like she didn’t exist. All she wanted was a divorce so she could move on. Here he was, not wanting to let her go. He loved her in his way. It just wasn’t the way she needed to be loved. And, in that moment, she finally understood that her marriage hadn’t been a huge mistake, it had been founded in love. It just couldn’t sustain itself through abandonment, betrayal, and multiple infidelities, she thought wryly. What marriage could?
“Did you like it?” he asked when he finished.
She forced a smile. “I think you’ve got another hit on your hands.”
He slapped his leg and grinned. “I’m telling you, you’re my muse, babe. I haven’t written a new song in a year, and now they’re just coming to me faster than I can get them down. Every morning I wake up with a new one in my head.”
“I think it’s time you found a new muse,” she said gently.
He glanced at her. “No, babe. It’s you. You’re my good luck charm.”
“So you’re just going to hang around Clover Park writing new songs?”
“I have to go back to L.A. on Saturday. I mean, really have to. We’ve got a sold-out concert. I can’t disappoint the fans.”
“No, you certainly can’t.”
“But then I’ll come back.”
“No, Griff, don’t. I don’t know how to explain it any more clearly to you. I love Dave.”
He heaved a sigh and drummed his fingers on the seat. Finally, he said, “I hope we can still be friends.”
Relief surged through her. He got the message. “Okay, friends.”
“Good.”
After Griff dropped her off at home, Steph drove straight to Dave’s place. As soon as he answered the door, she threw herself in his arms. He was stiff and not exactly hugging her back.
She pulled back. “I tried calling you, but it went to voicemail.”
His jaw clenched. “I know.”
“What happened? How come you didn’t call me back?”
“Because I saw your picture with Griffin”—his voice rose to a roar—“and you looked pretty damn comfortable! Smiling! Touching! What am I supposed to think? What am I to you?”
“What picture?”
He pulled out his cell and showed her.
“Oh. I didn’t know someone took a picture.” It was probably the limo driver. Griff had said she was part of the machine. Now that she thought about it, Griff had seemed to be posing when he just stood there smiling at her. She put her hand on Dave’s tense arm. “It was
nothing. He said something funny about Yoo-hoo.”
“There’s nothing funny about Yoo-hoo,” Dave spit out. “It’s a delicious drink.”
She bit back a smile. “I think the limo driver was trying to get a picture of us. Griff’s using me for publicity. You know, the secret wife. I saw the limo driver at Horizon Village, hiding behind a tree. I bet she got some pictures of us with Joey.”
He crushed her to him and kissed her. “I don’t like this crazy business. Not one part of it.”
“Me either.”
He kissed her again. “Stay here until Griffin leaves.” He kissed her for a very long time, and Steph finally felt like all was right in her world again.
She blinked slowly. “I have to go home for Loki.”
“We’ll stay at your place, then.” He kissed her quick. “Let me pack a bag.”
And, just like that, Dave moved in with her.
Chapter Nine
Dave spent the week acting like a total beast. The first night he was fine. Sure, he made love to Steph in an overbearing, possessive-freak way, but if her satisfied smile afterward was any indication, she was okay with that. But the second night, he saw a black sedan with tinted windows sitting outside her place, which triggered every protective instinct he had. There was no way he was letting Steph become a victim, stalked by the press, rumors and gossip ruining her good name.
He approached the car, intent on exercising Steph’s right to privacy to Mandy, the celebrity gossip reporter Steph had told him about, but it wasn’t a woman. It was Griffin. That man brought out the worst in Dave.
“What are you doing here?” Dave demanded.
“Nothing, man. Get lost.”
“I will not get lost! You get out of here. Steph doesn’t want to see you.”
“Calm the fuck down. I’m not bothering anybody. I’m just writing music.” He held up a small recorder and notepad.
“You’re bothering me. Go write music somewhere else.”
“Fuck you.”
“Fuck you! I’m calling the cops. We’re getting a restraining order.”
“It’s a public street. I can sit here if I want.”
Dave stalked off and called the cops. A short while later, a cop arrived, and Griffin took off. Frustratingly, when Dave had told Steph to file a restraining order with the cop, she’d refused.
They had words. Fighting words.
“Dave,” she said in an overly calm voice like he was an irrational child, “he won’t hurt me. He’s probably just writing music.”
“He’s obsessed with you.”
She shrugged. “He thinks I’m his muse. He’ll find a new muse and move on.”
He put his hands on his hips. “When?”
“Hopefully by Saturday when he leaves.”
Dave’s blood was pounding in his ears. He couldn’t believe Steph was so casual about Griffin basically stalking her. Was he supposed to just let the man sit out there every night watching the house?
“Fuck this,” he said. “You’re moving in with me.”
“I’m not going anywhere. I don’t understand why you’re so mad. He’s not dangerous.”
Then it hit him with a sudden clarity. “You want him around! You like being his muse!”
“I want him to move on.”
“Then file a restraining order!” he barked.
“No.”
He had to take a walk to calm down. Call it insecurity. Call it jealousy. Call it the fucking power of love, but from the moment Dave got back from that walk, he couldn’t keep his hands off Steph. Not as long as Griffin was still in the state of Connecticut.
As soon as he got back to Steph’s place after work, he had her in bed, where he reminded her exactly whose she was. He knew he was being overbearing and way too demanding, he simply couldn’t help himself. She didn’t push him away either, which only made him want more. He invaded her shower every morning, kept her in her Columbia sweatshirt with nothing else so he could easily take her again and again, even made her eat her meals straddling him, his cock buried deep inside her. He felt like a damn rutting beast.
He could not stop.
And that fucking car sat outside every night. Steph wouldn’t let him call the cops, which made him crazed, made him even more of a beast, until the car finally left.
Griffin never dared to come inside.
~ ~ ~
Griffin was out of time. It was Friday night, and he had to go back to L.A. for that concert tomorrow. Thousands of fans were waiting for him. The band was waiting for him. He parked in front of Steph’s house in his rental car. He’d gotten the press his manager wanted. Tons of tabloids and gossip websites had the picture of him and Steph smiling at each other outside the gas station, his arm around her shoulders. Mandy got the shot and headed back to L.A. Job done.
Someone had dug up pictures of him and Steph on their honeymoon in Hawaii too, and pictures and video from the first tour he’d done. Probably his publicist. The headlines “Griffin Huntley’s Secret Marriage,” “Secret Wife Revealed,” and “How Many Secret Wives are There?” with several of his lovers were just the boost that he’d needed. But instead of feeling satisfied, he just felt tired.
He was getting old. He wanted to stop all the touring. He missed the music. He missed his muse, Steph.
He knew Dave had spent the week at Steph’s place. It was his penance to know. He accepted that as fitting punishment for all the affairs he’d had. Now he and Steph were even. They could move on. He intended to bring Steph back with him tomorrow, one way or another. He wanted her to see him in concert, to see him at his best. The music would bring them together.
Besides, his lawyer had told him a divorce would financially ruin him.
He nearly jumped out of his skin when the passenger-side door opened and a petite woman with shoulder-length brown hair slid into the car. She turned to him. Shit. Dave’s sister—the insane woman that jumped him outside of that bar.
“You!” he exclaimed.
One corner of her mouth lifted. “Me!” she mocked. She set a six-pack of lite beer on the console. “I thought we’d have a car party, instead of a stalking. Sound good?”
She popped open a can of beer and took a sip.
“Get out of my car, crazy lady.”
She sipped her beer and eyed him with startlingly blue eyes. “Nope. Hey, let’s play a game.”
He shifted closer to the door.
“It’s called, what’s my name? Crazy lady doesn’t count. And, for bonus points, why are you stalking my brother? The right answer means I don’t call the cops.” She gave him a serene smile that scared the shit out of him.
He couldn’t remember her name. He met so many people he couldn’t keep them straight, but he remembered that face with its blue eyes, sharp cheekbones, and even sharper tongue. That snarling New Yawk City accent. “Where’re you from? Queens?”
“Brooklyn. Now answer the question.”
“I’m not stalking your brother.”
“Brrrap.” She made an obnoxious wrong buzzer sound. “See, when you hang out in front of Steph and Dave’s place every night, that’s called stalking.”
He scowled. “I’m just writing music.”
“Oh, very nice. And it’s Christina. That’s the last time I tell you that, so write it down if you have to. You still have my card?”
He shrugged.
She let out a huge sigh and dug another one out of her purse. “There. Last time you get one of those too.”
He looked at it. Christina Righetti Olsen, R.N. There was a big black X through Righetti and Olsen was written in by hand diagonally between the Righetti and the R.N. She probably killed her first husband. Then it said: Home Health Care When You Need It Most. Her number too.
“When do you need home health care the most?” he asked.
“Weekends and nights. It’s a side gig. I’m usually an oncology nurse at the hospital.”
His eyes widened at the thought of Christina as a nurse. He coul
dn’t imagine a less nurturing person to take care of sick people. He wouldn’t let her in the room if he was on his deathbed.
“So, let’s hear what you’ve got so far,” she said.
When he just stared at her, she narrowed her eyes. “You’re not really making music here, are ya?” She pulled out her cell. “I’ll call the cops. Dave says Steph won’t let him, but no one stops me.”
“Wait!”
She smiled sweetly.
He glared at her. “You always get in your brother’s business?”
She raised her brows. “I get in everyone’s business.”
He pulled his guitar from the back seat, tuned it, and sang her the song about Steph, “Missing Limb.” He always loved an audience, even if it was just one person. He finished and looked over at her.
“That blows,” she said.
He jerked back in surprise. Everyone loved his music.
She waved dismissively. “What else you got?”
“Who the hell asked you anyway?” he roared. That was the first song he’d written in a year, and she shot it down just like that. He’d like to hear her compose an original melody and the lyrics to go with it.
She cocked her head. “Your career’s in a slump. You know why?”
“Enlighten me,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Because you’re still five years ago. You’re playing the same old hits. Or variations of them.”
“We just put out a new album last year.”
“Meh. Warmed-up leftovers.”
So furious he was almost shaking with it, he put his guitar back in its case. He wasn’t going to play one more note as long as she was in the car.
He had to force himself to unclench his jaw. “What do you know about music, Christina Olsen, R.N.? What the hell does a nurse know about music?”
She set her beer down in the cup holder and leveled him with a serious look. “I’ve been following your career since day one. I know your music very well. I love it. But it’s time you pushed yourself. Take some risks. Break out from the pack.”
“Easy for you to say,” he muttered.
“I’ve got your poster on my bedroom wall. Know why?”
Now he was on more familiar ground. He gave her his slow, sexy smile. “I’ve got an idea.”
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