“There’s always time for presents,” answered Riley with a big-ass nod of affirmation.
“Good.” She thrust a shiny gift bag at Griff, covered with multicolored balloons that said GOOD LUCK. “It’s just a few things to help you get through the first show. A bottle of water, lozenges to moisten your throat, and a kazoo.”
Griff was still trying to work past his surprise that she’d brought him a present. It was so sweet. So thoughtful. Of course the woman who spent her life crafting letters was thoughtful. Just a total shock to have it aimed at him. He took the bag, peeked inside. Pulled out the orange plastic toy. “Why a kazoo?”
“I couldn’t find an air horn on such short notice. But you need to be able to make a rude noise in case one of your friends says something stupid…” Her voice trailed off in volume as Chloe clued in to the fact that nobody had backed off so much as an inch to give them privacy. “I mean, if you disagree with something. All the radio shock jocks do it.”
Seriously thoughtful. Seriously funny. That was Chloe in a nutshell. “This is great. Trust me, these guys say stupid things all the time. I’ll probably end up using it more than talking. Thank you.” Griffin tried to wrap an arm around her waist, pull her close. Give her the kiss she deserved for rocking his world with her sweetness. But Chloe sidestepped out of his reach.
“One more thing.” She dug in her little white purse and pulled out a small boutonniere of three green leafy stalks tied together. Carefully, she tucked it in front of his blue-and-white pocket square. “These are shamrocks. For good luck. Not that you need it. You’re going to do great. You’ve been sitting around talking to the ACSs since before you were stuck in that cave together. Nothing comes more naturally to you than talking to them. And your voice is smooth and low, like a trombone solo on a jazz record. All you have to do is block everything else out and just have fun with your friends.”
Griffin could barely believe it. Chloe was giving him a pep talk? After all this time, after all these years? Someone was actually taking care of him instead of the other way around? Talk about a gift. It fucking floored him. Took him out right at the knees.
He lifted her off her feet, surged forward until her back was against the wall, and then kissed her. Kissed her with all the gratitude and wonder and happiness coming out of his heart like a freaking geyser. Kissed her until she squealed, laughing, and swung her feet until he set her back down.
“Griffin, you’ll squish the shamrocks!”
Knox coughed. Coughed again, in that way he did when he tried to hide a laugh. Then he gave up on pretense and let it roll out from his belly. “God, that’s great. Squishing the shamrocks will be our new code for sex.”
With a roll of his eyes, Josh asked, “Since when do we need a code for sex?”
“Since Chloe’s is so hilariously perfect. Let’s try and work it into the podcast today.” He extended his arm for a fist bump. Griffin had no choice but to do it. Couldn’t ever leave a guy hanging unbumped.
Chloe made a clucking noise with her tongue. “First you steal my virginity story. Now my shamrocks. Don’t you boys have any original ideas for this show?”
Well, that shut everyone down. Fast. Like she’d cut an engine at ten thousand feet. That happened to Griff once. By accident. The silence in the cockpit after the engines cut out had been deafening. Just like now.
He’d been worried the guys would be too rowdy, too loud, too…much for Chloe. Maybe Griff should’ve wondered if they’d be able to handle her.
Riley shrugged, unrepentant. “Why reinvent the wheel when there’s a brand-new one with untouched treads right in front of us?”
Shit. Griff rounded on his friend, jaw clenched. “You promised not to bring up her virginity.”
“We didn’t. She did.” As he led them into the studio, Riley called over his shoulder, “Chloe, you’re sitting next to me at dinner. I like a woman who sticks up for herself—and manages to cut us down a notch in the process.”
“She’s taken already, Ness.”
“I don’t see a ring on it, Montgomery.”
“Hey, that’s supposed to be my line!” said Chloe through her giggles.
Now Griff didn’t know if his nerves were worse about the podcast or about Chloe being snaked out from under him by one of the ACSs. Either way, the next hour was guaranteed to suck.
Two hours later at least one of his worries was gone, smoothed over by a fantastic red. Knox had huddled in consultation with the wine steward for a while before they brought it out. Griffin knew it was exceptional for this special occasion. He also knew that if he asked Knox just how special it was, the price tag on it would probably choke him. Ignorance was best. When your friend the multimillionaire pulled out all the stops, you didn’t ask questions. You just enjoyed it.
He took a swig. Watched Chloe talking animatedly across the table to Josh about food. And yes, Riley sat next to Chloe, but it was a round table, and Griff was on her other side. And Griff’s hand hadn’t left her thigh since they’d sat down.
Inviting her to dinner had felt natural. It was a celebration, so he’d wanted her there to share it with him. Simple. Straightforward. Until he’d shot off his mattress last night from a dead sleep with a horrible thought: what if his friends didn’t like her?
She’d hit the nail on the head—they were his brothers. A woman had never come between them. On the other hand, there’d never been a woman around serious enough to carry the potential for trouble. What if they thought her quirks were more weird than cute? Or that her refusal to travel meant they’d automatically exclude her and Griff from their annual trips? God, what if she didn’t like them?
The possibilities had kept him up for the rest of the night. Well, those possibilities, along with the clusterfuck of his job situation. Oh, and the question that burned constantly in his brain like a neon beer sign in a dive bar. What the hell would he do about her virginity? Chloe’s first time had to be special. Eventful. Meaningful. All that weight rested squarely on his shoulders. Too bad he didn’t have the first clue what to do to make it amazing. Aside from stashing condoms in every room in the house. Just to be safe.
Thanks to a view of the White House so kick-ass that you could see the snipers crouched on the roof, the POV Bar high atop the W Hotel was a popular spot even on an early Sunday night. The crowd and the unrelenting noise didn’t seem to phase Chloe. In fact, she was blossoming under the attention from his friends. None of the guys had so much as checked out the room for hotties. They were all too busy talking to Chloe.
Knox touched Chloe on the arm. And because he was a bigger flirt than the rest of them combined, Griff tuned in a little more closely. “Glad you’re coming to Old Ebbitt Grill with us after this. We were worried Griff might whisk you away.”
“Why would he do that?”
He smoothed the trinity knot of his tie. “Because I’m like new shoes and chocolate truffles, all wrapped up in one stunningly handsome package. I’m irresistible to your fair sex.”
True. Griff had seen it happen time and time again. The skinny nerd who’d never gotten to second base at the time of their accident more than made up for lost time afterward. He’d shot up in height, bulked up in muscle, lost the braces and glasses, and started charming the thongs off every hot woman in his path. No one was immune—to his charm, his millions in the bank, or some combination thereof.
So Griff was shocked when Chloe tossed back her head and just laughed at Knox. “After listening to the podcast, it’s quite clear that none of you besides Griff could possibly handle my situation.”
Out of her line of sight, Josh held up his fingers in a silent V, as if trying to point out that Chloe—and not any of them—had brought up her virginity.
Griff rubbed his hand across her silky thigh beneath her skirt. “Did you enjoy it?”
“Yes.” Chloe leaned in to drop a kiss on his cheek. Then she picked up her wineglass and turned back as if to resume talking to Josh. Like freaking fifty flavors of gri
lled cheese was more important than a moment-by-moment breakdown of their podcast.
He cleared his throat. Moved his fingers a bit more restlessly. “Do we get more of a review than that?”
“I figured you’d all want to debrief as a group. Maybe have your producer weigh in, but not somebody like me without any credibility in the field.”
Credibility. She cracked him up. Nobody went for their doctorate in shooting the shit with their friends on satellite radio. “You’re the only audience member we know. Gotta tell us—how’d we do?”
Chloe placed her hands flat on the table. Tonight she wore pink-and-white-striped nail polish, like a candy cane melted onto the tips of her fingers. She took a deep breath. Held it while she stared out at the tip of the Washington Monument gleaming behind the White House.
What did the pause mean? Why did he care so much? Even if the Coast Guard dragged him, kicking and screaming, out of his beloved helicopter, that would still be his real job. The podcast was just an excuse to…
Griff couldn’t lie to himself. He did care about it. Naked Men wasn’t just fun. He wanted the podcast to be an extension of their blog. And by doing so, it’d help other guys. Guys who didn’t have such an awesome circle of friends to bounce stuff off of when times got tough. They’d started Naked Men to help one another. It had morphed, over the years, into a way to extend their circle exponentially. It became a way to support all the confused, frustrated men out there. So yeah—the success of the podcast mattered.
God, was it so bad she had to work up a candy-coated lie? What was taking so long?
Finally, Chloe did a scan of the table, catching everyone’s eyes. “I hope you had fun doing it, because you have a hit on your hands. You were all hysterically funny, especially whenever you started arguing with one another. But you didn’t demean or ridicule the subject matter. You were honest, in your stories and in your reactions. I have no doubt you struck a chord with the audience. Naked Men lived up to its namesake.”
There was a round of whoops and cheering that made even the normally dispassionate Washingtonians swivel to stare at their table. Glasses clinked. Wine sloshed. And Griff knew his jaw-cracking grin mirrored that of the other ACSs.
“Wow.” A pep talk beforehand. A glowing review afterward. His girlfriend deserved a trophy for being the most supportive woman in the world. Griff could get used to this kind of treatment. “Thanks, Chloe. We needed to hear that.” He raised his wineglass, gave the wine a swirl. “At least to justify this overpriced grape juice Knox sprang for.”
“You have every reason to pull out all the stops tonight. Honestly, I’m kind of surprised that we’re moving on to Ebbitt’s.” She bit her lip. “That sounds horrible. I mean, I love it there. I love wallowing in the history of it. Knowing that presidents and senators ate there back in the day.”
“And still do,” Griff added. It was pretty standard to run into Secret Service on the way to the bathroom. Just another day in D.C.
“It’s a great restaurant, but I expected the sort of place with a velvet rope or a menu with no prices on it.”
How did you explain eleven years’ worth of memories? “It’s our place,” he said simply.
Riley leaned closer. “We’ve been going there since we won the regional high school soccer championship. It’s the first place we went once we got home from Europe…and our parents finally let us venture out of earshot. First place we went over Christmas break once we’d all headed off to college. We do individual things like birthdays or promotions at whatever’s the hot trend of the moment. But Ebbitt’s is where we come together.”
Okay—that was how you summed up eleven years of memories. Riley’d always been good at explaining things. A talent they’d used to get out of trouble, more often than not. And one he now used to break down complicated NTSB reports into understandable sound bites for the media.
“That’s a lovely tradition.” Chloe ran a hand down Griff’s thigh. Squeezed just above his knee…and then relocated up another couple of inches. Jesus. She was waving the proverbial red cape in front of the bull. Nah. Worse than that. Like shoving an eighteen-year-old boy into the green room for the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show and not giving him even a single condom.
Over the past thirteen days, Griff had taken cold showers. Tried reciting the entire lineup for the 2005 inaugural Washington Nationals team. Added an extra half hour on the treadmill to his daily workout. He was way past primed and ready. If she moved her fingertip even a centimeter closer to his dick, he’d find it almost impossible not to tuck her under his arm, cart her down a floor to the first room he could find, and screw her until she had at least three orgasms.
Chloe had to know how close he was to the end of his rope. Nope. He couldn’t risk the temptation. Griff shifted to shake off her hand, pretending to scratch his calf. And when he straightened, he made damn sure his chair was back just enough to keep his thighs out of reach of her wandering hands.
Josh, as usual, joked away the sentimental moment. “Well, it doesn’t hurt that the food’s great and you can sit right next to the oyster bar.”
A woman with dark hair piled atop her head appeared carrying a tray of champagne flutes and a bottle with foil twisted around its wide cork. “Figured you’d be ready for these by now, Griff.”
Talk about a well-timed interruption. Annabeth had been their friend for a while now. She poured them drinks and poured them into cabs at the end of the night. More importantly, she didn’t take their shit and she did keep their secrets. She would’ve been the perfect person to weigh in on VirginFest. Too bad he hadn’t thought of it when Chloe wasn’t around.
“Annabeth, I’d like you to meet Chloe. My girlfriend.” The words didn’t catch in his throat even a little.
“No kidding? No wonder you asked for champagne. This is a red-letter day. The first of the Naked Men to fall.” She handed Chloe a flute with an exaggerated wink. “You must be one heck of a catch to land Griffin.”
Another rollicking laugh from Chloe’s glossy, hot pink lips. “I’m so absolutely not a catch. Most days I truly don’t know why Griffin deals with all of my boring baggage.”
Griff’s hand was across her mouth before he even realized it. “No. Don’t ever say that. Or anything like it. You’re remarkable, Chloe, and I’m the lucky one in this relationship.”
Beneath his hand, he felt her lips curve into a smile. There was a brightness to her eyes that might’ve been tears…or the sparkle of the moon. Or heck, that second glass of red she’d been sipping from.
Annabeth bent lower—low enough that her silver hoop earring as big as his fist banged into his temple—to whisper in his ear. “Well done, Lieutenant.”
“Thanks. Will you pour?”
“You bet.”
Everyone went back to chatting while Annabeth went through the elaborate ritual of uncorking the champagne. Eleven steps, she’d told him once with a killer grin, unless the cork bopped someone in the eye across the room. Then she added a twelfth step of grabbing an ice bag for the victim.
“I Googled you,” Riley announced to Chloe.
That couldn’t be good. “Didn’t know we did a shakedown on our dates, Ry.”
“You know me. I don’t like to leave anything to chance. Anyway, there’s no point sidestepping the elephant in the room.” The other guys all did the half-nod/half-shrug thing that said they agreed. “We know that you were one of the victims in the Raleigh University shooting.”
Shit. “Not so much a celebratory topic, Ness.” Griffin drew a finger across his throat in the classic shut-up-or-else gesture. Nothing killed a good party like a segue into mass murder.
“For God’s sake, I’m not going to ask her twenty questions.” After a glare at Griff, Riley leaned back over to Chloe. Put a hand over hers. “All things being equal, that nightmare in your life makes you a good match for Griffin. You understand how tragedy shaped us. How survivor’s guilt eats at us. How celebrity nipped at our heels, and how now all we
want is to be normal.”
“ ’Fraid so,” she said with a rueful smile.
Okay, looked like he’d be able to let Riley live another day. Griffin relaxed. Kicked back in his chair—but still kept his legs crossed at the ankle, pointing away from Chloe.
“I’m sorry you went through it. But I hope something good comes out of it for you—like Naked Men did for us.”
Her face brightened. “It already did. The shooting is how I became a letter writer.”
“Go on.”
“My best friend, Summer, was a victim, too. She was much more gravely injured, so she received much more media attention. Letters, cards, presents, and emails poured in from not just all over the country, but all over the world. Summer couldn’t deal with it at first—not physically, and once she healed, not emotionally either. But she didn’t want to just ignore them. So I wrote back to every single person.”
Josh scrubbed a hand down his jaw. He hated writing. Not just term papers. He didn’t even like writing out the chalkboard menu for his food truck. The years he spent struggling with dyslexia before it got diagnosed left him with a chip on his shoulder regarding any form of the written word. “That must’ve taken forever.”
“Oh, yes.” A grimace crossed her pretty face, hinting at hours of hand cramps. “But we were both healing. There are only so many books you can read in a row, so many movies to watch. At first, I seized on writing back because it gave me something to do. Then I got hooked. I saw how those few lines from total strangers affected Summer. And her family. There were days when she took a particular email along with her to physical therapy, to give her inspiration. That’s powerful. I wanted to be able to touch people the same way.”
Well, shit. That packed a wallop of guilt straight into his gut. Griff had thought of her weird little career as a placeholder until she found something real. A glorified hobby. Now? He saw what a judgmental ass he’d been. Not to mention dead wrong. And even though he hadn’t ever said that to her, he owed Chloe an apology. Hearing her story made him mad all over again about the undeserving client who’d attacked her yesterday.
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