Quinn Family Romance Collection

by Checketts, Cami

  Scarlett moistened her lips and waited.

  Griff shook his head, released her arms, and hurried around her. Before she could blink, he was out her door and had closed it firmly behind him. She sank onto the bed, and tears welled up in her eyes: tears of selfishness for another rejection from Griff, and tears of sorrow for what he’d gone through and those men who’d been killed. She flung herself onto the pillow and cried until she blessedly fell asleep.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Griff suffered through another sleepless night. What was Scarlett doing to him? When she’d held him so tenderly and trailed her fingers over his scars, it had touched him deeply. His heart lightened just remembering it. His mama and sister, Navy, were great ladies, but they were a tough-love kind of people, and he’d shut himself off emotionally from even them years ago. He gave his mama, Navy, his nephew, and his sisters-in-law quick hugs when he saw them. Sometimes, when he had a break from work, he’d allow himself to go on a date and kiss a pretty girl. That was the extent of physical touch for him.

  Ah, his Jane. Her outer beauty, which was world-acclaimed, had nothing on her inner beauty. After he’d reciprocated that hug last night, he’d known that he was still in love with her. Shouldn’t years apart, most of his spent in hellish situations, harden him to the love of his younger life? He was certain it had, but Scarlett had once again penetrated his tough exterior.

  He lay in bed later than usual, blinking at the sun streaming through the uncovered windows. They had automatic blinds for the windows in this house, but the only reason to ever shut them was if the sun glared too brightly off the snow. Griff didn’t mind the glare, and he loved the sunshine. Scarlett was sunshine for him. She was so bright and beautiful that he should shield his eyes after all the darkness he’d been exposed to. Sadly for him, he’d rather go blind staring at her.

  He heard her bedroom door open and close and then her shower start. She must’ve slipped out to go to the gym when he was dozing earlier from the long night of sleeplessness. That was his cue. He pushed out of bed, pulled on a T-shirt and some socks and shoes, and hurried for the gym.

  As he pushed himself through his workout, last night played over and over again in his head. Scarlett had gotten him to talk about his scars and then had tenderly shown him that she accepted him. He was far from perfect, but Scarlett didn’t care.

  Yet his mind was also replaying everything that had happened with his brother, Kaleb, and his new wife, Jasmine. Griff had been the only one who related to Jasmine; she hadn’t believed that she deserved a relationship with someone who was good and full of light. He related because that was part of the reason he’d ditched Scarlett years ago. There were so many reasons he couldn’t be with her then, now, or ever.

  He finished with weights and forced himself to do sprints on the treadmill, no matter how tired he was or how much he loathed running indoors. Sometimes if he sprinted hard and long enough, his lame brain would stop thinking.

  He finished and downed a couple of water bottles before hurrying back to his suite. Luckily, he didn’t see Scarlett. He was so close to breaking down with her, telling her secrets he’d never shared with anyone, holding her, admitting he loved her. He slammed into the bathroom and ripped off his shirt. Straining so he could see the puckered skin, he remembered the screams of his friends as they were beaten until they died. Only Griff and one other man had ultimately survived. He still hated his captors, would never forgive them for his friends’ deaths, but sadly, he understood why they’d done it. Griff and his team had killed so many of their people—men, women, and even children who opposed them. Of course the Syrians needed retribution when they captured them.

  Griff stared at himself in the mirror. His face was shadowed with a couple of days’ growth. His beard came in darker than his hair. His eyes looked sunken and scared, and the sight made his temper flare up. Scarlett could not pierce his armor. She could not find out the secrets that no one knew aside from his team and their tormentors in Syria. She couldn’t uncover the raw truth that everyone who’d ever served with him had discovered at some point.

  He hurried into the shower, banging his head back against the marble enclosure. He wasn’t right for Scarlett. If only he could make her understand that without hurting her any more. He’d hurt her plenty, breaking things off with her shortly after his first deployment with the Navy and never answering any of her emails or letters. The idea had been to protect her and allow her to have a life without the pain of loving and losing a warrior. He’d known he wasn’t long for this world.

  He’d loved Scarlett from afar for ten long years, and last night she’d told him that she’d always loved him too. He’d rather be whipped again than have to know he’d hurt her like that. Now he was doing it all over again: letting down his guard and holding her close, coming near to kissing her, only to pull away again. He hated himself for his weakness. The only thing he could do was sit her down and try to explain. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her, but if she truly loved him, hurt was all that was in store for both of them.

  * * *

  Scarlett noticed Griff’s door was closed when she went to work out and when she returned to her suite to shower. She put on a long-sleeved T-shirt and fitted yoga pants, not bothering with much makeup. Griff used to tell her he liked her face “clean and beautiful.” She smiled in the mirror at the memory.

  Had they had a breakthrough last night, or was he going to jilt her all over again this morning? She prayed for his heart to soften, but she was beginning to wonder if it was a vain repetition on her part. She’d prayed for Griff since they’d separated—for his protection, his happiness, and the long-held hope that he’d someday be returned to her. Only the good Lord knew where Griff’s heart and head were. Who knew if he was capable of loving someone anymore? In a movie, it was so simple to change a character; with a big aha moment, a hardened warrior could change, soften, fall at the heroine’s feet. Real life wasn’t like that. She hated real life sometimes.

  She went to the kitchen on the main level and made herself a yogurt parfait with frozen fruit and granola, leaving one for Griff in the fridge where he should see it. Then she padded downstairs to the huge theater room. She’d spent a lot of time near the fireplace in the office on the main level reading through the Shaffers’ David Baldacci and Clive Cussler novels, but she couldn’t focus on a book when her brain was scrambled by Griff. Maybe a movie could distract her, or it could put her to sleep. Goodness knew she hadn’t slept much in the past four days.

  As she searched through the movies, she saw the shelf full of Wii games. She’d noticed the sensor bar on top of the huge television. Hmm. Just Dance would be a lot of fun. Within minutes, she was dancing along with the game. It was exactly the tonic she needed to make her smile and make her forget about her pain for a few minutes. It would be even more fun with a friend, but Griff kept making it clear he wasn’t her friend.

  * * *

  Griff walked into the great room area, looking around for Scarlett. He wanted to see her, but it would be much smarter if he stayed away. He made it to the kitchen and found the yogurt parfait she’d made for him. She was so thoughtful. Over the past few days, he’d watched through the security cameras as she worked diligently in the kitchen, and after she’d vacate the kitchen, he’d find the delicious food she left for him. She’d always been a good cook, and he appreciated the kindness. If only he could thank her without grabbing her and kissing her.

  He scrambled some eggs to go with the parfait, but he paused when music floated up from the basement. He wondered what Scarlett was doing, and he had to force himself to down the eggs, the parfait, and some milk, then run upstairs to brush his teeth, before going to investigate.

  He called himself a lot of names as he pumped down the stairs to the basement. He wanted to be with Scarlett, despite all the reasons he shouldn’t be—and the biggest reason was that he didn’t want to hurt her again.

  Hurrying through the short hall, he could hear
the music getting louder. “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.” He smiled. His older sister, Navy, had loved this old eighties song.

  He reached the door to the theater, where his steps faltered. Scarlett’s back was to him. She faced the large screen, following the dance moves. If he’d thought her stretching outside of the bathroom in Nephi and saying “bum” was hard to resist, this was torture. She danced, she shimmied, she moved in ways no beautiful woman should move, if she wanted the man in her life to stay sane. His Jane was sexy and adorable at the same time. Griff loved her so much.

  Griff had been frozen for almost half a minute before he realized he had to act—either retreat up the stairs and lock himself in his room, or get her to stop dancing. He made a poor choice as he rushed into the theater, wrapped his arms around her from behind, and said gruffly in her ear, “Stop.”

  Scarlett let out a little squeal of surprise, but then she did the worst possible thing: she started dancing again within the circle of his arms.

  Griff tightened his grip on her. Her upper body stilled, but her lower body kept swaying to the beat. “You’ve got to stop,” he begged.

  Scarlett tilted her head back and locked gazes with him over her shoulder. “Why?” she asked, all innocence and beauty.

  “I can’t take much more,” he admitted, then immediately regretted it when she grinned.

  That grin made his arms weaken enough for her to spin in his embrace, continue swaying her hips, and say, “Dance with me, Griff.”

  Griff stayed firmly planted in one spot, but he was spineless enough he kept his arms around her, savored each movement of her body against to his. This was so wrong, and he knew it. His mama would cuss him for his impure thoughts. His sister would cuss him for not dancing with Scarlett and taking it to the next level.

  “No!” Griff roared. He released her from his arms and took a large step back.

  Scarlett startled, looking stunned, and she finally, finally stopped dancing. Her green eyes shone, and Griff felt horror rush through him as he realized she was going to cry. He was a man, so of course he hated seeing any woman cry, but seeing Scarlett cry was torture. The Syrians would be laughing in the mass grave he’d placed them in.

  “You can’t even stand to be close to me, can you?” she said in a quiet voice he barely heard over the music.

  Griff didn’t know how to protest. Being close to her was heaven, but he was destined for an eternity in the other direction. He couldn’t bring her with him on that trip.

  Scarlett waited, as if hoping he’d contradict her. A single tear crested her thick eyelashes and trickled down her cheek. What Griff wouldn’t give to kiss that tear away, to hold her and take away her pain …

  She let out a soft sob and ran around him. Griff leaned his head back, clenched his fists, and groaned. Why did he keep hurting her like this? He hated himself, and he had to somehow stop this pattern.

  He picked up the remote and shut off the television. Then he dropped his head to his chest, staying there and wallowing in the pain for a while before muttering a quick prayer. He knew the Lord didn’t want to hear from him, but of course He cared about someone as good as Scarlett. “Please help me explain,” he murmured. He wanted to beg for help not to hurt her anymore, but he knew this was going to hurt her. There was no way around it now. He had to plunge this dagger into Scarlett and pray she could move on and find happiness, knowing he cared for her too much to be with her.

  Griff slowly walked out of the theater. The burden of truth weighed heavily on him. He wished he could simply love Scarlett and ease her pain that way. He’d have to be content with the truth. Sadly, he knew she wouldn’t. He knew she wanted him, and he could never give himself to anyone, even Scarlett.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Scarlett should’ve run for her room, but she couldn’t stand being closed in there right now. She was humiliated that she’d let Griff see her cry. The ache for Griff just kept growing and growing until her chest felt tight and she couldn’t seem to clear her lungs. She stormed to the mudroom off the garage and shrugged into Tucker’s coat and boots, all of which swallowed her up. Luckily, some of Maryn’s gloves fit on her hands. Scarlett wasn’t a big person, but Maryn Shaffer was miniscule.

  She pushed out the exterior door of the mudroom. The air nipped at her face, but as she slammed the door and trudged onto the spacious rear patio, she felt like she could breathe again. She’d been cooped up inside for far too long.

  It was picturesque out here. Trees towered above her, their branches laden with white fluff. The river danced over icy rocks. Even though it was cold, she could see spring was coming and hear water dripping out of the rain gutters as the snow started to melt in the bright sunshine.

  Scarlett saw a trail broken through the snow that approached the river. She went down the steps from the patio and slowly followed it; walking in these massive boots was awkward. At least the coat kept her warm. She reached the river and paused for a second, listening to the water and relishing the sun on her face. She was calming down, but her stomach still churned from Griff’s roar of No! He truly must despise her to treat her the way he had. She brushed at her cheeks with the back of the long coat sleeve and trudged along the bank of the river, moving away from the house. The snow wasn’t as thick if she stayed close to the water.

  Suddenly, a deer bounded into view on the opposite bank. Scarlett halted and watched the beautiful white-tailed creature. She loved deer; they seemed so blissfully unaware. It was pathetic that she wished she could have an existence like that. She smiled at her silly thoughts as the deer broke ground to the river and then drank from it.

  It paused in its drinking, and its head darted up. The large brown eyes stared right at Scarlett. She wanted to tell it not to bound off, that she wouldn’t hurt it, but movement pulled her gaze from the deer.

  Scarlett’s own eyes widened as she saw a pack of wolves pushing through the snow from each direction. They were going to trap the deer and slaughter it right before her eyes. It looked like something out of a Western movie she’d acted in where wolves silently surrounded her as she’d played a tough frontierswoman. She’d read up on wolves’ behavior and responses and how to best them for her part. Her character had fought her way free with fire and a stick. Scarlett had no stick or fire right now, and she knew these wolves wouldn’t be cowed by her small stature. Yet she had to do something to help the deer.

  “Run!” she screamed at the helpless animal, breaking the silence of the winter landscape.

  The deer startled and bounded across the river toward her. Scarlett cried out in horror as she realized two things: the river wasn’t as deep as she’d thought and wouldn’t slow the wolves down at all, and that deer was much faster than her. She didn’t want the deer to be hurt, but she definitely didn’t want a pack of wolves chasing her.

  In sync, the wolves focused in on her, snarled, and pushed through the deep snow toward the river. The deer darted past her into the trees. Some supporting character that animal turned out to be.

  Scarlett had no choice. She slipped out of the heavy boots and sprinted in her socks back along the riverbank. The icy path with rocks jutting out at odd intervals stung at her feet, but she pushed on. The wolves reached the river, started cutting across it, and spread out to flank her on both sides. In seconds, they would close in on her. She sadly couldn’t remember any of the research she’d done on wolves for her part in that stupid, unrealistic movie.

  She clung to the hope that she could reach the trail by the cabin before the wolves overtook her. If only Griff would appear and save her. Thinking of that gave her the only good idea she’d had today. She drew in a breath and screamed, “Help!”

  * * *

  Griff left the theater and started searching the house for Scarlett. It was a big shift from the past three days where he’d avoided her if at all possible. She wasn’t in the kitchen, the living area, the office, or her room. Her bedroom door was open, and he made the mistake of walking all the way in,
just to make sure she wasn’t there. He could smell her clean, fresh scent. Not the expensive perfume she’d worn the first time he’d seen her again, but that peaches-and-cream scent she used to emanate when they were dating in college. He smirked to himself. Apparently she’d used the shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and lotion he’d bought at Wal-Mart.

  He looked outside the large windows. Scarlett wouldn’t have gone out in the cold, would she? She didn’t have the right gear, and although there was still a thick layer of snow, it was spring and the animals were coming out, most of them desperately hungry from either hibernation or a long winter.

  He hurried to the windows and searched. At first he only saw a world of white and trees and the river cutting through it all, but then a body moved into his view from the right. It was Scarlett, and she was sprinting. At the same moment, he saw the pack of wolves cutting through the river toward her. At deeper spots a few of them got thrown off the path and had to swim for a second, but they found their footing and kept coming. By the way they fanned out, he could tell they were on the hunt.

  Griff’s stomach tightened and ice ran down his spine. Scarlett! He sprinted through the house, pounding down the stairs. Tucker kept his guns locked in the safe in the basement. Griff had stupidly left his gun in his bedroom, and there was no way he was wasting precious seconds and going back for it. Griff yanked a couple of knives from a block in the kitchen as he rushed through, then kept running out the rear patio doors.

  Scarlett appeared on the trail that cut back to the house, but the wolves were exiting the river now and almost upon her. Running away from them was the worst thing she could do. Wolves thought anything that ran was prey. Griff flew across the path to the river, praying inside like he hadn’t prayed since Syria. God hadn’t listened then, and Griff was terrified He wouldn’t listen now.