“Hey, I heard Riley James is working on your house,” Matt said. “I haven’t seen her for a while.”
“Yeah, my dad has her staying out there.” Griff felt Fawn stiffen slightly. “She’s torn everything apart, so now I guess she’s putting it back together.”
“Yeah, well, Riley’s really good at fixing things,” Matt said.
Things like me.
Suddenly, the din of the bar seemed to roar in Griff’s ears and he wanted, needed to be back at the ranch with Riley. Fawn thought she could fix him, but only someone who’d been through fire themselves, who’d had to conquer her own demons, would understand what it was like.
He thought of Riley’s blunt, nonjudgmental ways, her hoarse, boyish voice, and her tool belt—well, not really the tool belt itself, but the way it slung around her hips, making her look strong and capable even as it emphasized her delicate femininity—and the need to go home hit him like a freight train. He put a hand to his forehead.
“What?” Fawn put her hand on his arm. He resisted the urge to shake her off. “What’s the matter?”
“I’m just…” Griff did his best to give her an apologetic look. “I get these headaches.”
He wasn’t entirely fibbing. She’d given him a headache the other day with all her lectures about closing himself off and jumping into the deep end of some pool, and another one was coming on fast.
“I think I’d better go home.” He stood clumsily, almost knocking over his chair. “They can get pretty bad.”
“Really?” Fawn looked woefully disappointed, and he suddenly realized what a heel he was. She was only trying to help him as best she could. Sure, she was clueless, but it wasn’t like she’d ever lived in the real world. She was a Wynott girl, safe and protected. And while his interest in her was waning, he wouldn’t want her to be any other way. The world needed girls like Fawn—pure of heart, transparent of motive, and not too complicated of mind. Normal girls, for normal guys.
“I thought… Well, I thought we’d talk more,” she said. “I really think I can help you, Griff.”
Then take me home to Riley.
“Maybe another time,” he said. “Matt could drive me now, though, so you can stay. The band’s pretty good.”
“Griff Bailey.” He winced. Her tone reminded him of his third-grade teacher. Mrs. Sabellico had been as strict as she was tiny, and she’d held even the biggest boys—who happened to be Matt and Griff—in check. “I am your date for the evening, and I will take care of you.” She turned to Matt. “Excuse us, please. I need to take him home.”
Matt, looking concerned, tried to get a look at Griff’s face. “You going to be okay, buddy?”
Griff hated this—being the center of attention, making his friends worry. But he needed to get out of here. “I’ll be okay. Just need to get home.”
“I’ll get you there.” Fawn stroked his arm, giving him a worried look. “Don’t you worry about a thing.”
Chapter 21
By the time Fawn pulled into the Diamond Jack, Griff had gone completely silent. He didn’t dare say a word, because Fawn seemed convinced the passenger seat of her Subaru Outback was a therapist’s couch. Worse yet, she thought she was the therapist.
“You need to talk about it, Griff,” she said for the umpteenth time as they turned into the Diamond Jack. “These things just fester inside you like infected wounds.”
So far, she’d compared his thoughts and memories to infected wounds, birds in a cage, and even rats in a trap. No wonder he had a headache. It was busy in there.
But the comparisons weren’t far off. In fact, her willingness to take on his unspeakable memories would be funny if it wasn’t so awful. He never wanted those thoughts, or anything like them, to touch sweet Fawn or anyone else in Wynott.
“Thanks,” he said as she stopped the car. “Sorry to end things, you know, prematurely. It’s just… I’m not ready to talk about this stuff. Plus there’s a lot there that I can’t tell a civilian.”
Her eyes widened. “You mean it’s classified?”
He nodded, looking somber. “Top secret.”
He wasn’t lying. Some of his activities overseas had been confidential. He wished he’d thought of that sooner.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked. “Oh, Griff, here I’ve been asking and asking, and you’ve been so strong and brave. Some men would have spilled their secrets to me, I’m sure.”
Griff was sure, too. She was lovely and sweet and very, very kind. Here in the close quarters of the car, he’d realized she smelled like flowers, sunshine, and a sort of innocence that was rare in this world.
But he and Fawn didn’t fit together. It was like they were dolls from two different manufacturers. He was a GI Joe, he supposed, while Fawn was one of those old Kewpie dolls, all curls and cuteness.
“Good night,” he said. She leaned in for a kiss, but he took her hand instead. “It was too much, going to the bar tonight, but I know you were trying to help.”
“There are other ways I could help,” she said.
Before he could bail out of the car, she lunged toward him, pressing her face to his. He had no choice but to return the kiss, but it was so deep he felt kind of violated.
He sure hoped Riley wasn’t looking out the window.
* * *
Riley was working on a particularly stubborn pipe fitting when Bruce let out a warning woof. Glancing out the window, she saw Fawn’s car turn into the drive. She ran into Jess’s bedroom to hide, since she was dressed for hard work in a cheap man’s undershirt from Kmart and her oldest jeans, which were wildly out of style and downright indecent, with holes in both butt cheeks and flared legs that made her look stuck in the sixties. Her tool belt tugged down the waistband, making the jeans hang indecently low on her hips, and the weight of it stretched the undershirt to reveal every bit of her nonexistent cleavage.
She couldn’t help peeking out the window. Griff was home early, which shouldn’t have surprised her. He and Fawn probably couldn’t wait to be alone together.
She wondered if he’d kiss Fawn the way he’d kissed her.
He’d better not.
No, stop it. Just stop it. It’s not like he’s yours. He has every right.
Griff was a soldier home from war. He probably hadn’t kissed a woman in a year, and Riley had to admit she’d asked for it. Or at least she would have if she’d known she’d had a chance of getting it.
And boy, oh boy, she’d gotten it. Griff gave the kind of kisses that lasted a lifetime. Smiling, she touched her lips as she tilted the curtains in Jess’s bedroom and looked out. Griff and Fawn hadn’t gotten out of the car yet. They must be talking. Or doing something else.
She froze as the passenger door swung open and the dome light flickered to life, revealing the two of them pressed together so passionately it was hard to tell where Fawn ended and Griff began. They were sharing a warm, passionate kiss that left no doubt as to what would happen next.
Riley turned away, feeling sick. When Bruce padded into the room, she knelt to ruffle the fur around his ruff and kiss the top of his furry head.
“Griff’s my friend,” she whispered to the dog. “I should be happy for him. A kiss doesn’t mean I own him, right?”
The dog’s amber eyes stared steadily into hers, filled with adoration.
“Oh, sure, you’re easy. A kiss and some kibble and you’re mine. But men are different.”
She couldn’t tell if it was jealousy, embarrassment, or fury that was making her burn from the inside out, but whatever it was, she needed to drown it. She didn’t drink, so she’d have to use the bathtub. Fortunately, Jess’s room was the first where she’d installed an en suite bathroom for future dude-ranch guests. The rest were all plumbed and mostly done, but this was the only one with flooring.
As soon as she heard the front door open and cl
ose, she turned on the water full blast. After witnessing that kiss, she definitely didn’t want to hear the sweet nothings they’d be babbling at each other. She needed to scrub off her selfishness and find some happiness for her friend. Her friend.
“I just wish I liked her better,” she told Bruce. “There’s really nothing wrong with her. Nothing. Considering how pretty she is, Fawn’s a really nice person.”
And unlike Riley, she was a perfect match for Griff. Like him, she was heir to a ranching family, the product of generations of cowboys who’d found their cowgirls. And while Griff might think he was through with ranching, she’d seen his heritage in his eyes every time he worked with the horses.
“He’ll figure it out,” she told the dog. “He’ll marry her and raise a nice family right here on the Diamond Jack. And I couldn’t do that. I wouldn’t be any good at it.”
She just wasn’t mother material. For one thing, she might as well have been raised by wolves for all her own mother had cared. For another thing… Well. The past was past, and she didn’t like to think about it.
With Bruce passed out on the bath mat, snoring like a sailor, she managed to soak away her jealousy, along with the sore muscles she’d earned from a day’s hard work. Once she’d towel-dried her hair and donned her favorite pajamas—pink stripes and kittens—she slipped between the sheets with her book. Bruce joined her, leaping up on the foot of the bed.
“This is great,” she told the dog. “It’s about a fictional city girl and a fictional cowboy, and they’re having fictional torrid sex every five fictional pages.”
She flipped the pages, reading every word but failing to string them together and give them meaning. When she did, she pictured Griff as the cowboy, which worked, but then she imagined herself to be the city girl, and that was ridiculous. She should picture Fawn in that role, but that would be ooky, because the sex scenes were pretty hot.
Between thinking about Griff naked and remembering the fudge-dipped Oreos she’d left on the counter downstairs, she was dying of intense, unyielding needs. She should have grabbed those cookies before she came upstairs. They were the next best thing to sex—except for chocolate cake. Cake was even closer.
Moving the curtains aside, she glanced out the window. A crescent moon was riding high in the sky, hooking a wreath of wispy clouds. The shadows of the tall pines stretched across the lawn, and the barn was a featureless hulk except for the golden squares of its lighted windows. The driveway was rutted, and footprints led up to the door—but there was only one set of prints, and no car in the turnout.
She’s gone.
Riley knew Fawn had insisted on driving Griff to the bar, probably because once she’d tracked him down, she wanted to keep him under control. That meant she must have left. And unless she’d taken Griff with her, he must be down there alone.
Riley pressed her hands to her heart, trying to squelch the leaping, spinning puppy-dog antics that were stealing her breath. She wished her heart could have some dignity, like Bruce, who had fallen asleep and was breathing slowly, steadily, with one leg twitching as he chased imaginary rabbits.
It was no big deal that Fawn was gone. Griff had probably hated the bar. All the people had probably exhausted him, so he’d gone to bed.
Take that, puppy dog.
Her heart whimpered and settled down, but its tail was still twitching hopefully. Then she remembered how Griff had looked the night before with his hard features gentled by sleep, that lock of hair dangling over his forehead, his lips slightly parted…
Up jumped the puppy dog, dancing.
“Stop it,” she whispered. “Down.”
Casting her an aggrieved look, Bruce slid down from the bed.
“Not you, doofus.”
Sighing, the dog tossed himself on the floor and seemed to fall instantly into a deep sleep. Riley giggled at his snores as she tiptoed to her door and strained her ears for some indication that the man of the house was awake. She was about to give up when there was a clang of the woodstove door and a thump that sounded like a log being tossed on the fire.
So he was down there. And Riley needed those cookies, she really did. If she ran into him on her way to get them and he wanted to talk, well, it would be rude to leave, wouldn’t it?
Elated, she bent down and kissed the dog on the head again, then trotted down the stairs. She was halfway down before she remembered the kitten pajamas, but hey, they were better than the worn, see-through tank top.
Chapter 22
Griff closed the door of the woodstove and wiped his mouth for the umpteenth time. Fawn had totally stunned him with that kiss, and the sheer seductive heat of it made him wonder if she’d changed since high school. She’d had a reputation as a flirt who’d touch and tease, then dance away at the last minute, but that kiss had invited much more. It had implied a certain sly knowing, and he had a feeling Fawn didn’t dance away anymore.
Once, his hands would have been all over the lithe, athletic body he’d dreamed of all through high school, but tonight, he’d just wanted to be alone. Going to bed with Fawn meant waking up with Dr. Phil, so he’d begged off, citing the headache, and sent her off a little hurt and a lot confused.
He was confused himself. Riley had gone to bed, which left him flat and deflated yet relieved—because what would he say to her?
Well, she was Riley, so he’d have to tell her the truth.
I sat there with her, and all I could think about was you.
I missed you the whole night.
But if she’d seen that kiss… Lord, he hoped she hadn’t seen it, because how could he explain that?
I didn’t want to do it. She overpowered me. I was just being polite.
She’d never believe that.
The truth was, he shouldn’t have kissed anyone, let alone Riley, as long as the bees were still buzzing inside him. He’d lost his temper in her truck, and he never wanted to do that to her again. She’d made some mistakes in her life and been mixed up with some pretty bad people, some of whom had hurt her badly. While she’d bounced back from all that remarkably well, the last thing she needed was a mess like him riding shotgun.
Opening the woodstove, he poked at the fire, then slouched down in the chair and bent his head over his book, but the words danced on the page. With a curse, he threw the novel down and ducked his head into his hands.
“Griff?”
He lifted his head, blinking, and there she was, dressed in the most adorable pajamas he’d ever seen. Her long hair spiraled down her back in silver tendrils, and he had a crazy notion that if he opened his arms, she would run to him, let him hold her, let him whisper in her ear that Fawn was nothing to him, nothing, and she was everything.
Because she was.
But he knew she deserved better—so he stared at her, wordless, with his mouth hanging open, the words he needed to say all jumbled up and caught in his throat.
* * *
Something must have gone wrong on Griff’s date, because Riley found him sitting with his head in his hands, looking like his world had ended—which was strange, considering that kiss. It had looked like love to her, or at least a whole lot of lust.
The fire he’d built warmed the room, and the twinkle lights tucked into the garland on the mantel were reflected in the red balls on the tree, warming the room with the serenity of Christmas. But Griff looked anything but serene. Riley didn’t know what had happened, but she had a sudden urge to race down the road, haul Fawn out of her car, and bust her lip for hurting him.
Griff was a good man and a strong one, but he’d been through a lot and didn’t need some woman messing with his head. Everybody knew he’d always yearned for Fawn, and no doubt Fawn knew it, too. Had she led him on and then smacked him down? The man was a war hero. He’d been through hell. How could she?
“Riley.” Griff looked up, wiping his face as if he could er
ase his emotions—sadness, regret, with some anger underneath. The Christmas lights, along with the flickering firelight, made his face a study in light and shadow. “I didn’t hear you come down.”
“Didn’t mean to sneak up on you.” She stood by the mantel, fooling with the twinkle lights as if Molly Bailey hadn’t arranged them perfectly.
“It’s okay.” He tried to smile, but it slid sideways and faded fast. “My warrior skills are letting me down, that’s all. Or maybe you’re a ninja master spy who missed her calling.” He dropped his voice and put on an English accent. “Bond, Jane Bond.”
She couldn’t help grinning. She’d never seen Griff try to be funny before, and while the joke was kind of lame, it made her think he might be all right despite whatever Fawn had done.
“My ninja skills are a little weak,” she said. “For instance, I can’t figure out why you let Fawn go home. I thought sure you’d invite her in.”
“No.” He rested his elbows on his knees, keeping his eyes fixed on the fire. “Fawn’s not…she’s not who I thought she was.”
“Fawn hasn’t changed.”
He looked up, his eyes filled with an intensity that surprised her. “Maybe I have.”
Riley frowned. “So the girl you always wanted is chasing after you, and you’re not into it. Are you trying to punish yourself?”
“No.” He chuckled. “No, I’m not that noble. It’s just… It’s not going to work with Fawn. You know what she did? She read all sorts of books on the military, combat, PTSD, you name it, thinking she’d help me heal from some terrible trauma. But she’s never been through anything worse than a hangnail herself, so it just won’t work.” He sighed. “You were right when you said she hasn’t changed. She’s still perfect, the heart of this little town. But I don’t want perfect.”
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