On Her Side

by Beth Andrews

  He glanced behind them at the kitchen. Griffin hadn’t come in to check on them, hadn’t poked his head in offering to get food or drinks or asking if everything was okay like his mother did when he hung out with a girl at home. He didn’t come right in and sit down, introduce himself and start asking Jess a bunch of questions about her family, her interests, what she wanted to do after high school.

  He hadn’t bugged them. Thank God.

  “I’ll go ask,” he said, bumping her knee when he stood. He found Griffin at the kitchen table scowling at a paper in front of him.

  “Playtime over?” Griffin asked, not even looking up from his work.

  “I need a deck of cards,” Tanner said, opening the drawer at the end of the counter only to discover a can opener and a spatula. He opened the next one—a roll of tin foil.

  Griffin set the paper aside. “Get the hell out of my stuff.”

  “Why?” Tanner asked, yanking open a middle drawer. A hammer, two screwdrivers and a tape measure. “You hiding body pieces in one of these?”

  “No. I’m not hiding cards, either. I don’t have any.”

  Tanner gaped at him. “Everyone has cards. It’s like a law or something.”

  “What can I say? I’m a rebel. Guess you’ll have to find something else to do.” He jabbed a finger at Tanner. “But keep it rated PG. Better make that rated G. If it wouldn’t happen in one of those Disney cartoon movies, it better not happen in my house, hear me?”

  “I hear you,” Tanner muttered before going back into the living room.

  Jess wasn’t there.

  His stomach dropped. He glanced around. She hadn’t gone to the bathroom—he would’ve noticed if she’d walked past the kitchen. Her sandals were still on the floor in front of the couch, her phone on the coffee table.

  He went out onto the porch and she glanced up at him from where she sat on the top step, her legs bent, her back against the porch post. “Sorry,” he told her, “no cards.”

  She lifted a shoulder, went back to staring out at the street. “Mind if we sit out here for a while?”

  “No, that’s cool.” The porch light illuminated her profile, highlighted her hair. He sat next to her, about jumped out of his skin when, a minute later, she tucked her bare feet under his thigh.

  “Is that okay?” she asked, her big blue eyes on him. “My toes are freezing.”

  They were; he could feel them through the material of his shorts. “Yeah, that’s…” He cleared his throat. “That’s fine. You can wear my sweatshirt,” he added, noticing how she rubbed her bare arms.

  “Won’t you be cold?”

  “I’ve got another shirt on underneath this.” It was short-sleeved but he’d get frostbite before he’d admit he was chilled, too.

  He took off his sweatshirt, handed it to her and then quickly smoothed his hair while she pulled it over her head.

  “Your hair’s stuck on your earring. Here,” he said, his voice rough. “I’ll just…”

  Holding his breath, he tugged the silky strands free as gently as possible then dropped his hand. Curled his fingers into his palm.

  “Thanks.” She rolled up the sleeves. “You really don’t mind if I wear it?”

  “Nah.” It was worth cold hands and goose bumps to see her in his shirt. His last name was on the back along with the school’s basketball logo, his first name scrolled on the chest above her heart. She tugged it over her bent legs making it seem like it was the only thing she wore. She looked adorable and sexy as hell.

  His body stirred. Oh, please, don’t get a hard-on. Not now.

  “It looks good on you,” he said. “Maybe you should try out for the girls’ team. Get one with your name on it.”

  She snorted. “I don’t think so. I’ve never played basketball. I’ve never played any sport.”

  “I could teach you.” He stood and held out his hands. She stared up at him, then at his hands. After what felt like forever, she laid her hands in his. He pulled her to her feet, held on until they got to the bottom of the stairs.

  He jogged to the garage, activating the motion sensor light on the corner of the building. Taking down the key from the top of the doorjamb, he unlocked the side door and grabbed a ball.

  “Your brother doesn’t own a deck of cards but he has a basketball and a basket?”

  “I’m pretty sure the hoop was here when he moved in,” he said of the backboard attached to the garage. But the net was new, and Griffin had installed the exterior lights a few years back. “He’s always had a ball. I guess he comes out here and shoots around when he has time.”

  He bounced the ball to her. She jolted but caught it with both hands, held it out from her body as if it was a bomb instead of leather filled with air.

  “Shoot it,” he said.

  She seemed so serious but then that jaded look came back to her eyes and she shrugged. Gave it a halfhearted attempt with both hands. But instead of going out, the ball went straight up.

  He ran over, grabbed it before it landed, spun and did a layup, catching it as it fell through the hoop.

  “Show off,” she muttered but it lacked heat.

  “Come on. I’ll show you how to shoot.” He stood next to her, licked his fingertips.

  “Yuck. I am not licking my fingers. God, I’m not even sure I want to touch the ball again.”

  He elbowed her gently. “Don’t be such a girly-girl.” He took a jump shot and it swished in the basket. Moved to another spot, hit it again. Third spot, third all-net ball. He handed the ball to her. “Try again.”

  This time she mimicked him, angling her body and using her right hand to throw it up. The ball hit the underside of the front of the rim.

  “Here,” he said, rebounding for her. “We’ll start with a free throw.” He guided her to a spot directly in front of the basket. “A regular free throw would be back a few more feet but we’ll start here until you get stronger. Stand with your feet hip-width apart, knees slightly bent. Bring the ball up, look underneath it. Shooting hand here,” he said, his elbow bent at forty-five degrees, “free hand is your guide on the other side of the ball. Then you pick a spot on the rim, a dime-size spot and when you shoot, flick the ball.” He demonstrated and the ball spun above his hands. He caught it. Did it again. “Inhale. And when you exhale, shoot.”

  He showed her and the ball swished into the net.

  She tried. It came closer. He rebounded for her. “Good,” he said. “But this time, try to hold the ball on your fingers. Don’t let it rest on your palm.”

  She was so cute, standing there in his sweatshirt, her feet bare, her brows drawn together in concentration. “What’s the story with you and your brother?” she asked as she shot short of the basket. “How come he’s so much older than you?”

  “My mom was married before. Griffin was fourteen when she and dad had me.”

  “He’s like, super hot.”

  A weird feeling made his stomach turn. “He’s old.”

  She shrugged. Shot and missed again, this one bouncing off the rim so he had to chase it. “I’m pretty sure hot outranks old every time.”

  His mouth tightened. “Whatever.”

  She laughed and then she smiled at him—a genuine smile that about knocked him on his ass and made him fumble his dribble.

  “You’re hot, too,” she said. “Just more clean-cut and jockish.”

  He scratched the back of his neck feeling like he should apologize for being a good guy. What was up with girls and their fascination with bad boys? “The jock part fits,” he said, turning and making another jump shot. “I’d like to play in college then professionally. But I’ll get a degree to fall back on just in case I don’t make it. Maybe in teaching.”

  “You want to be a teacher?” she asked, sounding interested instead of how ot
her kids sounded—like teaching was for losers who wanted to make teenagers’ lives miserable.

  “Yeah. Maybe.” He handed her the ball. “What about you?”

  She seemed surprised. “What about me what?”

  “What do you want to do after graduation?”

  She kept her head down, traced the seams of the ball. “I don’t know.” She dribbled the ball, slapping at it with her palm instead of pushing it down. “I’d like to be a nurse,” she blurted, her fair cheeks turning pink. “Pretty stupid, huh?”

  “Why?”

  Tucking the ball under her arm, she rolled her eyes. “Because my grades are pathetic, I’m only sixteen, I have a record and I haven’t exactly been a perfect teenager.”

  “Who said you had to be perfect? Seems to me if you want something, it’s okay to go after it.”

  “Maybe,” she said, not sounding convinced. But her expression was determined as she squared off to the basket and shot. The ball hit the rim. And rolled into the net. “I did it,” she breathed. Then she launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck. “I did it,” she repeated, doing a little dance in place.

  For a moment he froze, just stood there like an idiot while she was pressed against him but then he wrapped his arms around her. God, she smelled good and felt even better. Under his bulky sweatshirt he could feel the curve of her hips, of her breasts.

  Laughing, her hair brushing his chin, she leaned back. “I’m glad you invited me over tonight.”

  “Me, too.” Her hands were on his shoulders, his were at her waist. His pulse raced. He tugged her closer. “Jess, I—”

  “This is going to sound stupid,” she said softly, smiling at him in a way that made him feel like he’d just been selected first in the NBA draft, “but I almost backed out of tonight. I mean, after what happened with your friends that first night at the café, I thought you were just another guy who wanted in my pants. But Keira told me you weren’t like that and I’m…well…I’m glad I listened to her. I had a lot of fun.”

  Her words washed over him like a cold shower. Shit. If he tried to kiss her now she’d never believe he wasn’t just looking to get laid.

  “I had fun, too,” he said, stepping back and sticking his hands into his pockets. “Want to shoot some more?”

  She picked up the ball and bounced it a few times, looking, for the first time that he’d seen, truly happy. Okay, so nothing was going to happen tonight. He was patient. He could wait for her.

  He’d wait as long as it took.

  * * *

  NORA PULLED TO a stop outside of Griffin’s house and saw Chief Taylor’s niece playing basketball with a tall, handsome teenage boy. More curious about Griffin’s brother, about his life, than she should be, she shut off the ignition and got out of the car.

  “What are you doing here?” Jess asked as Nora walked toward them.

  She and Jess didn’t know each other well, had no reason to when Jess had just been the girl who’d lied to and hurt Anthony. But now that Layne and Ross were an item, it looked as if their lives were going to be connected. Nora wasn’t sure which one of them that annoyed more.

  “Ross and Layne are still working so they asked me to take you home. Hi,” she said to the boy as she held out her hand, “I’m Nora Sullivan.”

  “Tanner Johnston.” His deep voice belied his baby face, but he was adorable. And he had his brother’s eyes. “Nice to meet you.”

  “You, too.” Nora glanced up at the house but the door was shut and she couldn’t imagine Griffin staring at her from behind one of the windows. “You ready to go, Jess?”

  “I need to get my shoes and stuff from inside.”

  “Do you want to come in?” Tanner asked.

  And risk coming face-to-face with Griffin after he’d kissed her, sneered at her father and then left her office with that parting shot about them being done?

  She’d rather strip bare, grease herself up with baby oil and roll around on the beach. In January.

  “I’ll just wait here.”

  Nora leaned back against her car as they went inside. A light breeze picked up, cooled her skin, filled her lungs. She shifted, mentally urging Jess to hurry up. She felt restless. Wired and antsy, her skin too tight, her shoes pinching her toes.

  The front door opened and she straightened, her pulse quickening when Griffin walked toward her, all sexy and predatory with his broad shoulders and flat stomach, his jeans hanging low on his hips. But then he drew close enough for her to see his T-shirt was wrinkled, his feet bare, and he seemed human. Approachable instead of just hard and exciting and off-limits.

  She forced a smile. “Griffin York playing chaperone. Who would’ve guessed?”

  He glanced pointedly into the passenger window of her car. “Where’s your date?”

  “It wasn’t a date,” she said then bit the inside of her cheek. So much for not letting him bait her into an argument. “And I imagine he’s at home.”

  Griffin’s eyes, glittering green in the moonlight, met hers. “Didn’t get to take you home? Didn’t get to stay the night?”

  “Obviously not. But if you’re assuming there was no sex involved in my night, then you’re not taking into consideration the possibility that Russell and I hooked up in the men’s room at the restaurant before I left him there, weeping with gratitude.”

  “Sounds like you had a good time. And yet here you are. At my place.”

  He sounded smug, as if she’d come to see him. “I’m here because Layne asked me to pick up Jess.”

  If he thought that strange, he didn’t show any sign of it. Then again, most people in town had heard about Layne and Ross being a couple. “She doesn’t like you,” Griffin said. “The kid.”

  Nora had assumed as much but hearing it caused a twinge, a small one. “What is she doing in there? Making an anti-Nora declaration?”

  He lifted a shoulder. “It’s obvious. You definitely rub her the wrong way.”

  “Well, perhaps the two of you could start a club.”

  “Maybe. But only if we can get T-shirts made up.”

  “With my face in a circle with a bold line going through it?” she asked sweetly.

  “I was thinking of an X but a line would work. I’m guessing the reason she doesn’t like you is because you don’t like her.”

  “How can I dislike her? She’s just a kid. One I barely know.”

  “Some people are just easier to read than others. You sure you’re in the right business? I thought lawyers had to be able to sell a case. Your face gives you away.”

  Because she was afraid he was right, she worked on keeping her expression clear. “If only I’d had that insightful career advice before I wasted seven years on higher education. But seeing as how I did, and how I have student loans in the six figures, I’ll just have to see this attorney thing through. Plus,” she couldn’t help but add, couldn’t help goading him, “this way I get to keep seeing Russell every day.”

  “You didn’t wear your hair down for your date with him,” Griffin said.

  Not quite what she’d thought his response would be. “I see we’re on to the stating the obvious portion of our conversation. No, I didn’t wear my hair down as I went out right after work. Which is obvious since I’m wearing the same clothes I had on this morning. And it wasn’t a date. It was drinks with a group of coworkers.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “It’s eleven. Must’ve been some heavy drinking going on.”

  “Okay, so the drinks led to dinner. We were hungry.”

  His eyes narrowed fractionally. “We?”

  “Well, Russell and I were the only ones who stayed for dinner, but so what? Why shouldn’t I spend time with him? And maybe you were right, maybe he is interested in me on a personal level, which he made clear,” she stressed, �
��by telling me he finds me attractive and intelligent and enjoys being with me.”

  “Will you see him again? The next time you have drinks and dinner will you kiss him good-night? Will you let him take you home? Take you to bed?”

  “Would you care if I did?” she asked softly.

  Something hot and potent flashed in his eyes but was quickly banked. “None of my business.”

  “You’re right. It’s not.” But it hurt, too much, that he didn’t care enough about her to admit his feelings. Even if those feelings were anger that she’d been with another man tonight.

  Her pride chafed, told her to walk away now, her head whispered that he wasn’t for her. He was closed off and bitter and would never give her what she needed, what she wanted. Would never give her the unconditional love she deserved. But her heart, her heart begged her to stay. To give him another chance. That he was worth it.

  She sighed. “I’m not interested in playing games,” she said. “The way I see it, after I leave with Jess in tow, there’s really no other reason for you and I to ever cross paths again unless it’s by accident. So, if there’s something on your mind or if you’re interested in seeing me again, you need to say so.”

  Their gazes locked. Nerves twisted in her stomach, the silence roared in her ears.

  The front door slammed shut and Jess came out the house, Tanner following. “Here—” she reached for the hem of the extra large sweatshirt she had on “—I’d better give this back.”

  “That’s okay,” he said, voice low and quiet. “You can wear it home and I’ll just get it back later.”

  “Okay. Thanks.” Jess smiled at Tanner, looking like a normal, sweet sixteen-year-old. Looking happy. “I’m ready,” she told Nora, her gaze growing curious as she glanced between the two adults.

  “Yeah,” Nora whispered. “I’m ready, too.”

  Ready to leave, ready to give up on whatever crazy, stupid idea she’d had about her and Griffin.

  Her face flaming, she rounded the front bumper of her car. God, she’d been such a fool. Putting herself out there for him only to get nothing, nothing in return.