Although he quickly sidestepped, he wasn’t fast enough. From her viewpoint on the opposite side of the street, Mrs. Martin, former owner of his skeevy couch, gave him a toothy smile and a coy wave.
Jesus.
Ignoring his still ringing phone, Grif reached up and yanked the damn shade down three times before it finally caught. Whoever invented those piece-of-shit mechanisms should be taken out and shot.
While he did battle, trying to preserve their privacy, Carlie Beth had hauled ass across the hallway to his less-than-elegant bathroom. This was a complete mess. He’d planned to do a few upgrades before he invited a woman over.
Okay, not just any woman. Carlie Beth.
While she did all her washing and flushing and whatever, Grif snatched up his sweatpants and shoved his legs into them. Because something told him Carlie Beth wouldn’t come out smiling.
You’re a smooth one, Steele. Had he been about to tell her he was sorry?
Yeah, he had, but not for the reason she probably thought.
He dropped down on the side of his bed and shoved his hands into his hair, jarring his already tender head. Holy fuck. That was a mistake. He breathed through the dull pain and tried to think.
What just happened here?
He and Carlie Beth had mind-altering sex. No doubt he’d expected it to be good because even after all these years, he’d remembered how she felt in his arms. But it had rocked him in a way he hadn’t expected. In a way that made him feel uncomfortably vulnerable, a place he never wanted to be again.
Still, he blew out a breath and walked across the hall to tap on the bathroom door. “Carlie Beth, you all right?”
“Dandy,” she shot back. “Except I seem to be missing my clothes.”
She wasn’t missing them. They were exactly where she’d left them, lying in a sexy mess on his floor. “They haven’t moved.”
“I need them.”
“Okay.” But he simply stood there, letting the silence stretch out. And out. And out.
He’d wait for as long as it took.
“Grif?” she finally said.
“Yep?”
“Do you have my clothes?”
“Nope.”
“What?”
“If you want your clothes, you’re going to damn well stop acting like a sixteen-year-old virgin and get your ass out of my bathroom.”
The sound from the other side of the door was a combo laugh and snort. “I thought you were supposed to be the classy brother.”
“Even classy guys don’t like to be pushed.”
“I’m pushin’ you?” Her voice held the drawling disbelief only a Southern woman could pull off, and it made him grin. God, he lov—
Whoa.
Whoa, whoa, whoa. Grif squeezed his eyes closed to get a grip on what he’d almost thought about this woman. He liked her. He wanted her. He fucking admired her.
There was a lot to admire—her ability to make beautiful art, her resilience and determination, her dedication to being a great mom to Aubrey.
But he was absolutely not back in his hometown to fall in love. Hell, he’d avoided that his entire adult life. Maybe it was just all this kumbaya family stuff that was clouding his perception of reality. He and Carlie Beth needed to be civil and get along for Aubrey’s benefit.
And yes, he’d been the one to suggest they figure out what was between them, but he’d never imagined he’d feel…this. Whatever the hell this was.
The doorknob turned, and he expected Carlie Beth to poke her head out demanding her clothes or to have wrapped herself in one of his towels. But she swung the door wide, and she stood there, chin tilted up and hands on her perfectly rounded hips, naked as she’d been when she dashed out of his bedroom.
And the sight of her—slight whisker burn on her neck, red hair a mess, and eyes full of feminine challenge—pretty much hit him like a sharp jab to the kidneys. Made his breath stall and his knees unstable.
“Earlier,” he said, “I was going to say I was sorry. But not for the reason you assumed.”
Now, her arms crossed over her breasts, plumping them up and momentarily distracting him. “Then why?”
He ran a hand along the waistband of his sweats, suddenly self-conscious of how he looked. This wasn’t the Los Angeles Grif Steele. That Grif took women out for a nice dinner, brought them home and offered them something smooth and expensive to drink, and made love to them.
“There wasn’t a damn thing slick about this.”
“Excuse me?”
He turned away and squeezed his forehead, ignoring the pain it caused. “I fucked you on a windowsill.”
“Yes.” She had the sheer nerve to laugh. Didn’t she understand how serious this was?
“And I gave you Perrier and didn’t even offer you a mug muffin.”
“Oh, God. You are not okay.” She darted around him and dragged his hand away from his face. “You re-concussed your head.”
“That’s not even a word.”
With a little frown, she peered at the cut on his chin, then studied his eyes. “Then we screwed a screw loose in your head.”
“I’m fine.”
“I don’t think so because you’re not making a bit of sense.” She grabbed his hand and began to tug him toward the front door. “I’m taking you back to the hospital.”
“Stop.” He pulled her into his arms and held her close. Rested his chin on top of her head and sighed. “We aren’t going anywhere.”
“Why not?”
“One, because you’re butt naked.”
She looked down and laughed. “Oh.”
“And two, because you were right earlier. You’re nothing like the women I’ve dated in California.”
When she tried to pull away, he simply held her tighter. “You’re sweet and funny and real.”
“And they’re sour, stoic, and fake.” Her tone was just acerbic enough to make him chuckle.
“They’re not you.”
There was no way to miss the way her breath whooshed in surprise. “What…what was this? What we did here today?”
“I’d be lying if I said I knew.” He kissed the top of her head, breathing in her intoxicating sweet fragrance, and tried to ignore the way his heart was beating the hell out of his ribs. “But I think we owe it to ourselves to find out.”
* * *
When she nodded, a vague movement that told him she needed a minute to breathe and sort through things, Grif slowly released her. Then he picked up his phone and checked his missed call.
“Need some privacy?” she asked.
“It’ll keep.” He tossed his phone onto the bed. Jamal Harris would just have to wait a little while to discuss the terms of his contract renewal with the Kings. Instead of making the call, he lounged back on his elbows and watched Carlie Beth dress.
She glanced up at him as she stepped into those cute cotton panties. “Do you know how long it’s been since a man ogled me while I put my clothes back on?”
Her words tightened his gut. Jealousy is stupid. He gave her what he knew was a strained smile.
“Oh, since about…never.”
Her tone was teasing, but her words hit him hard. She’d missed out on marriage, establishing that comfortable relationship that allowed two people to watch each other dress and undress. See everything—the good, bad, strengths, imperfections. “I fucked things up for you, didn’t I?”
“What?” That brought her head up, and she almost fell over with one leg stuck in her jeans. Grif lunged forward and grabbed her by the elbow to keep her upright.
“Let’s face it. You’re in your thirties. At this point in their lives, most women, especially in a place like Steele Ridge, are married with families.”
“I do have a family. Aubrey’s my whole world.”
“But I imagine there’ve been men who might’ve been interested in you if you didn’t come with a kid.”
“Probably, but those aren’t the kind of men who would interest me regardless. I’m a pa
ckage deal. I have been since I was nineteen years old.” Her face took on a stubborn cast—eyes narrow and mouth pinched. “But if you’re feeling sorry for me, stop. I’ve dated. Not a ton, because I didn’t want to parade a bunch of guys through Aubrey’s life. She always, always comes first. And believe it or not, I’ve actually fielded several marriage proposals. So you can just put your poor-little-unwed-Carlie-Beth crap to bed.”
“Several? What does that mean exactly?”
She looked up and to the right. “Let’s see…” She touched one pointer finger with the other. “Chuck Canfield when I was eight months gone with Aubrey. Lord, I was bigger than Dave’s barn out at Black Horn Ranch.”
Motherfucker. Chuck Canfield had been a classmate of his. And he’d asked Carlie Beth to marry him when she was round with Grif’s baby? He should find the guy and—
“Then…hmm…” She counted off another finger. “Aubrey must’ve been four or five when a guy from over in Cullowhee asked and offered to give her five or six brothers and sisters. It was hard to pass up, but I decided broodmare wasn’t a good look on me.”
He didn’t know whether to laugh or cuss aloud.
Carlie Beth’s eyes went a little cloudy, and it was then Grif’s gut tightened to the point of excruciating tension. “A few years ago, I was involved with a man. His name was John.” The hint of a sigh in her voice didn’t do a damn thing to relieve the sick feeling inside him. Because her expression, her tone, said this guy had been important. Meant something to her. “We dated for several months. He adored Aubrey and she thought he hung the moon.”
A different kind of jealousy swarmed over Grif. He could’ve lost his daughter without ever knowing about her. If Carlie Beth had married, Grif would’ve never questioned Aubrey’s paternity.
He tried to shove away the surge of anger trying to consume him at that thought. Remember, Aubrey said she’s never called another man Dad. That has to count for something.
“We were both in our late twenties, so it didn’t take us long to start talking about marriage. On the day we were supposed to shop for engagement rings, he never showed up. Never called. Ever.”
“What are you saying? That the douche just bolted?”
One of her shoulders lifted and dropped. “I guess. But not just on me. He worked at one of the landscaping companies. He didn’t give notice, didn’t resign. Just left on a Friday and never showed up the following Monday.”
“Sounds like a real standup guy,” he grumbled. The jerk had obviously been a stupid bastard. One that Grif felt strangely indebted to right now. Because it would’ve been horrible to discover he had a daughter only to find he’d already been replaced.
“Since then, I’ve been pretty picky.”
“Yeah, especially with that prick Darden.”
“Hey,” she protested, slipping into her overshirt. “One date. I wasn’t stupid enough to do it again.”
He reached for her hand and drew her down to his lap. When she settled in and rested her head against his shoulder, Grif’s heart did something so foreign, he didn’t know how to respond. It simply lost its shape and softened. He swallowed twice to reactivate his voice. “I want you and Aubrey to be happy. To be safe and secure. Do you believe that?”
“Is this a hint to cash that check?”
“I was a complete dick about that.”
“Yeah, you were.”
“But I didn’t miscalculate.”
Her laugh was warm against his neck, and he wrapped his arms tighter around her, suddenly wanting to keep her there, to stay that way for the foreseeable future. “If I were to deposit something like that, Highland Bank and Trust would sound the alarms.”
“I never want the two of you to do without again.”
She lifted her head and met his gaze, her eyes both serious and warm. “I’ve always provided for us.” When he started to speak, she pressed her fingertips against his lips. “Do we always have the nicest or fanciest things? No. But in this day and age, that can actually be good for a kid. Some of Aubrey’s friends crook a finger and their parents give them everything they want. Aubrey knows the value of a dollar. She thinks before she asks for something. She’s willing to work for the things she wants. And I refuse to believe that’s a bad thing.”
He kissed her fingers in gratitude. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being such an amazing mother to Aubrey. I’m still sorry as hell I wasn’t around to help you. But if anyone could do this parenting thing alone, it’s you, Carlie Elizabeth Parrish.”
Her eyes and mouth widened. “How did you know my middle name?”
He tilted his head. “Carlie Beth. It’s not much of a stretch.” Just that little thing agitated him all over again. He had a child with a woman who was surprised he knew her middle name. “But I also saw it on Aubrey’s birth certificate.” Which his name was still missing from.
“What’s yours?”
“My what?”
She gave him an eye roll. “Your zodiac sign. What do you think?”
He cleared his throat. There was a reason his business cards read Griffin F. Steele, period. “It’s a family name. My great-granddad.”
She made a little gimme motion with her fingers.
Dammit. He’d given her so little and so far she wouldn’t take his money. “Fletcher,” he mumbled.
“Say again. I didn’t quite catch that.”
“Fletcher,” he said louder.
Her eyes brightened. “Ooh, can I call you Fletch?”
“Only if you want me to yank down your pants and spank your round little ass every time you do.”
At that, her eyes went even brighter. Good Jesus, his sweet little tomboy had a kinky side. And that brought all sorts of interesting scenarios to mind. “Aubrey could call you Daddy Fletch.”
That sure blew away his momentary visions of handcuffs and blindfolds. “You know she asked if she could call me Dad.”
“Yeah.” Her voice was soft.
“Does that bother you?”
“Not on the surface.” She pushed out of his lap and paced over to the window where they’d made love. With restless fingers, she worried the edge of the shade. “But I doubt either of you really knows what a dad is.”
His laugh was short and sharp. “Other men do it all the damn time.” Other men. Not him.
The pressure that she pulled forth in him every time they talked about their daughter began to build, but Grif pushed that shit down. If they continued to get pissed and defensive every time they discussed Aubrey, someone would be stomping around all the time. “Just because my dad doesn’t have much to do with his kids doesn’t mean I’ll do the same to Aubrey.”
When she turned to look at him, her face was so damn full of bleak heartache, it would’ve brought him to his knees if he weren’t already sitting. “You live two thousand miles away.”
“I’m here now.”
“Now. That’s an important word. What happens when you wrestle Steele Ridge back into shape and stop spending every two weeks here?”
“We don’t have to worry about that right now.”
“Mothers worry. It’s in the job description.”
No, this wasn’t just about the distance between Carolina and California. Something else was eating at Carlie Beth, because he’d swear she’d believed him when he said he was in for good when it came to Aubrey. He pushed off the bed and went to Carlie Beth to smooth a hand down her hair, down her spine, letting it rest against her lower back. “What’s really wrong here?”
She turned into him, burrowed against him as if she couldn’t bear looking at him. Something had her hurting, so he wrapped her in his arms, trying to give her reassurance. “Whatever it is. We’ll handle it.”
“You said you’d fight me for custody if I didn’t take that money.”
“We’ve already established I was being a dick.”
Her laugh was more of a snuffle. “What…what if she asked to live with you? What if she want
ed to leave Steele Ridge and move to LA?”
Her words were like a body slam. Even when he’d done the strong-arm thing with Carlie Beth, he’d never once believed it would come to a legal battle. He was so damn accustomed to using leverage to get what he wanted that he hadn’t considered the impact the same strategy might have on Carlie Beth and Aubrey.
Holding Carlie Beth by the shoulders, he drew her away from him and bent at the knees so they were eye to eye. “She won’t.”
“Los Angeles is exciting,” Carlie Beth said, a little hiccup in her voice. “Fast-paced. Sexy. I mean, Hollywood and Disneyland.”
“You can’t think I would encourage her to move across the country with me.”
“Are you saying you wouldn’t want her?”
God, could a man win with two women running circles around him? Evie and his mom would say no, just shake their heads in mock-sorrow at his stupidity. “I’m saying I know she belongs here with you.”
“What about visits? Would you let her visit you out there?”
This was like a landmine of questions. What was the right answer?
“Would you approve?”
Her face scrunched up so damn adorably that he wanted to kiss her and spank her at the same time. “There’d have to be rules. No women or wild parties while she’s there.”
He drew back and pretended to pull his phone from his pants. “I’ll send myself a reminder text.”
“And you can’t buy her anything she wants.”
“Got it. No shopping, no alcohol, no sex.” He rested his hands on his hips and stared at her. “Anything else?”
“You think I’m overreacting.”
“Hell, Carlie Beth, she hasn’t even asked to visit and you’re already blowing up crazy scenarios in your head.”
“You can’t deny things happen.”
No, he couldn’t. His life over the past year was a prime example of a situation getting more than crazy. Becoming dangerous. “If any of my athletes are snorting blow or getting baked, I drop their asses. I have enough shit to clean up without representing complete idiots. And I sure as hell wouldn’t take my teenage daughter into some orgy.”
Going Hard: Steele Ridge Series Page 17