“Yeah, thanks for reminding me,” he said. “I’ll be sure to bring some toys.”
“Good,” Fawn said earnestly. “It’ll be good for you to get out. We worry about you, holed up out there on the ranch. I mean, what are you doing all day?”
He paused. Saying “I play Call of Duty and sleep with Riley” just didn’t sound good. They wouldn’t understand that the game relieved the helplessness that had plagued him since the explosion, and Riley—well, he wasn’t sure he understood that himself.
“I’ve been helping Riley with the renovations.” He should be, anyway. “She’s putting in some extra bathrooms, doing some upgrading.”
“Oh yeah,” Matt said. “I heard about that. Guess things’ll be different around there once your sister gets home.”
“Uh-huh.” Different? Well, yeah, they’d have a lot more bathrooms, but that was about it, right?
For the first time, he had some uncomfortable thoughts about the renovations. He’d figured his dad just wanted to help Riley out, give her some work, but there were an awful lot of bathrooms going in.
Fawn looked sweetly sympathetic. “A lot of changes happening at home.”
He nodded. Jess had written him a letter, just before he came home, telling him about her wedding to his friend Cade and some of her future plans. She and Cade were eventually going to live at the Diamond Jack, while Griff’s dad, Heck, and his new wife, Molly, moved to Cade’s farmhouse. Griff was surprised his sister was settling down; she’d always seemed to love working in the travel industry, but it was nice to think of the ranch staying in the family. Still, the bathroom thing was weird. Jess wanted a big family, but they were up to five bathrooms and counting. Riley was tiling the last two and had only a few fixtures to install. Just how many nieces and nephews was he going to have?
“So you’re helping Riley get that stuff done?” Matt grinned. “Didn’t know you were handy with a hammer.”
“I’m not,” Griff said. “She’s teaching me.”
Fawn’s eyes narrowed momentarily, and she looked away. Matt shot her a glare, and suddenly she was herself again, smiling sweetly.
“Well, that’s great,” she said. “It’s nice of her to help you keep your mind off—you know, what happened.”
Griff clenched his fists at his sides and stared down at his food. He was tired of Fawn’s constant references to his service. He wasn’t going to talk about that stuff, no matter how hard she pushed.
Suddenly, his head was about to explode and the bees filled his chest. They weren’t panicked now; they were angry, and he couldn’t stay a second longer.
Shoving back his chair, he rose abruptly. Most of his food was still on his plate, but he wasn’t hungry, and he needed to get out of there. Shadows were gathering, ghosts stalking and waiting. He needed to take them with him back to the dimly lit family room at the ranch. Back to the game and a world he could control. Back to Riley, who seemed to be the only person who understood him.
“I need to go,” he said. “Got to get back to… You know.”
“Sure.” Matt stood. “I’ll walk you out.” He flashed a look at Fawn, and to Griff’s relief, she stayed put.
When they reached the door, Griff turned to the marshal. “Look. I appreciate that offer. But I’m going back to my unit if I can. If I can’t, it’ll be because they don’t trust me to stay sane enough to do my duty.”
“Sane how?” Matt asked.
“Sane like calm,” Griff said. “Sane like not ripping somebody’s head off because they looked at me sideways.” He sighed. “I can’t help you, bud. Not if I don’t get a handle on things.”
Matt looked him in the eye but seemed lost in thought. Griff was starting to feel uncomfortable when the marshal finally spoke.
“I think you can,” he said. “But it’s up to you.”
Chapter 28
Riley heard Griff’s Jeep outside, then Bruce’s happy woof of greeting. She paused with a stack of clean laundry halfway in her duffel bag. She’d been hoping he’d stay out longer, because she wasn’t sure she could stand to say goodbye to him without embarrassing herself. She could pick a fight, make him punch a wall or something. Then it wouldn’t hurt so much to leave.
She wondered, for the thousandth time, if she should stay. Sure, the days were dull, when he played that danged game over and over. Sure, he hadn’t shaved, had only showered when she pushed him out of bed and demanded it. But at night, they made love like—like they loved each other.
She was going to miss having a prince, even one who only showed up at night. But he’d never face the real world if he spent every day playing games and every night playing her. Plus he’d miss his chance with Fawn. Much as it hurt, she knew that was what he really wanted. And much as she wanted to think she was helping him find his way back to humanity, she was only helping him hide.
The front door slammed, and the rat-a-tat-tat of gunfire filled the air almost immediately. He hadn’t looked for her, hadn’t even yelled a hello.
So there was her answer. He didn’t care if she stayed or not.
She trotted down the stairs and stood at the door to the family room. The dog woofed again, wanting to come in, but she was afraid the conversation she and Griff were about to have would upset him, so she left him outside.
“Griff?”
“Just a minute.” He kept his eyes glued to the screen where two shadowy figures slunk into position behind what appeared to be machine-gun nests. Narrowing his eyes, he pressed the control, and they exploded in fountains of blood.
Gross.
“Okay, what?”
She sighed. “Don’t you think you ought to do something else?”
Dammit, she sounded like such a whiner—but to his credit, he put the controls down and turned away from the game.
“Like what?”
“I don’t know.” She should have thought this through. It was an important moment, and she needed to play it just right. Ask him for help with a project or guide him to some alternate activity. But her brain was blank and filled with static, like a television on the fritz. “You’ve been playing that game all day every day,” she said. “Sitting here in the dark isn’t good for you.”
He rolled his eyes. “I just spent lunch listening to Fawn tell me what she thinks is good for me. Now you’re going to boss me around?”
She leaned a hip against the doorframe and sighed. “I’m trying to help.”
“I don’t need help.”
He turned back to the game, aimed, and fired. Another fatigue-clad man blew up, and she felt sick inside. The house was so filled with the sounds of battle that she could almost smell the cordite.
He shifted his shoulders as if her watching made him itch and finally turned. “What?”
She lifted her chin. “You’re hiding. That’s what you’re doing. Hiding from the real world.”
He stared back, his brown eyes nearly black. “And what are you doing, Riley James? If anybody’s hiding, it’s you. You’ve worked with Ed for years, but you’re giving up the place you earned without a fight.”
“I’m not hiding.” Her last thoughts of staying rolled over and died. What he’d said amounted to a dare—and she always took a dare. “I’m going back. That’s what I came to tell you.”
“Do what you want,” Griff mumbled, turning back to the screen. “Just don’t come down here and try to tell me what I need. I’m on leave, and I’m done taking orders.”
Riley raced upstairs, tears burning at the backs of her eyes. He didn’t want her here. He’d just been using her, comforting himself with her just like he entertained himself with the game. Lunch with Fawn must have gone well, and now he wanted Riley gone.
Besides, he had a point. It was past time for her to go back to Ed’s and face his sisters—and her future—head on. She needed to make herself a life that was truly her ow
n. One that didn’t depend on anybody else—because if she couldn’t rely on Ed or Griff, the two men she cared about most, who could she depend on?
* * *
Griff listened to Riley running up the stairs and knew he’d won; she wouldn’t try to tell him what to do anymore—but was that really a good thing?
No. You’re an idiot. You’re going to lose her, and then what’ll you do?
Shutting off the game, he scrambled to his feet and went looking for her.
She stood in the mudroom, tugging on that absurd hat and pulling the earflaps down. She looked so small, dwarfed by the furry hat and the bulging duffel bag at her feet.
“Hey,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” She sniffed, then shook her head as if to erase the sound. “You’re right. I shouldn’t be lecturing you. At least your fears are genuinely scary. Mine are just a couple old ladies and a troubled kid.”
“He’s not a kid. What is he, twenty?”
“However old he is, I can’t let him run me out of my home. I’m heading back to the store and making things right.”
The bees stirred, but he did his best to swallow them and smile. “You’ve got reason to be scared of those old ladies. Hell, they scare me, and I’m a goddamn soldier. We can hide together.”
He was relieved to see a quick smile flit across her face, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
“They’re just people,” Riley said. “And let’s face it, we’re not helping each other.”
“You’re helping me.” His throat was aching and his voice sounded strangled. “I think we’re doing each other a lot of good.”
The corner of her mouth quirked up in a smile that looked a little more genuine. “Like how?”
He forced a smile of his own. “I think my excess testosterone is leveling out.”
She barked out that peculiar laugh, just as he’d hoped she would.
“I’m just not sure I should be the one doing that for you,” she said.
“What?”
She shrugged. “Fawn doesn’t seem real happy to have me here. And I’m sure she’d be glad to help with your testosterone.”
He squeezed his eyes closed, then opened them and struggled to keep his cool. “What does Fawn have to do with anything? It’s my house. I think it’s up to me who stays here.” He took a step closer. “Look, I’m sorry about today. I didn’t want to go with her, but she’s so persistent. And Matt…”
Riley held up one hand like a policeman stopping traffic. “It’s okay,” she said. “I know how you feel about her.”
“No, you don’t.” He clenched his fists, struggling to stanch the rising tide of dread that threatened to overwhelm him. He couldn’t let her leave. He couldn’t. “She’s always poking at me, like she’s trying to find what hurts. She drove me nuts the whole time we were at the diner.”
“Sure.” Riley laughed as if he was joking. “Give her some time, Griff, and maybe talk to her. Or don’t talk.” She raised her eyebrows suggestively. “I’m sure she can make you all better.”
She pulled her coat from its hook and started to swing it on. He reached for it and she smiled, turning, expecting him to help her like a gentleman, but instead he pulled it away and hung it back on its hook.
“I’m not looking for advice about Fawn, okay?” He set his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. “I’m trying to tell you how I feel.”
“I told you, I already know,” she said. “You’ve been crazy about her half your life. Why would you stop now? And it’s fine with me. You need to move on with your life. and so do I.”
She reached up and patted his cheek. He couldn’t help himself; he closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. She smiled. “Oh, Griff, don’t worry. You’ll be fine. I’m glad Fawn will be here for you. Honestly, she’s what you need.”
The words bit like a knife. He’d thought the sensations that enveloped them at night were something very close to love, but apparently he’d read her wrong. What he’d thought was love coming into bloom was simply casual sex for her.
“What?” She was staring at him, and no wonder. He’d been standing there like a big, dumb oaf, opening his mouth without making a sound.
Words. Find the words. Tell her how you feel. Just pull out your heart and hand it over.
He closed his eyes again, searching the darkness inside him, but what was left of his charred, blackened heart wasn’t much of a gift.
“What about the job?” He hated his accusatory tone, but how else could he keep her? If he couldn’t be her lover, than dammit, he’d be her boss. “It’s a mess up there.”
He expected her to argue, but she just shrugged. “I’ll be back to get it done. You don’t use that back part of the house anyway, and I’m way ahead of what your dad expected. I worked it out in my head last night.”
“You did?”
It was a good thing he hadn’t told her what he thought about at night. While he’d been dressing her in white and choosing flowers, she’d apparently been planning her escape.
She gentled her tone. “Griff, I have to go. You were right. I need to face the Harpies, win my future back.”
What was that old saying? If you love something, let it go? Yeah, right. That was fine for butterflies and horses. But if he let Riley go, she’d be gone for good.
He moved right into her personal space. They’d been closer than this every night for almost a week. He hoped she’d remember what that had felt like.
But she retreated as if threatened.
“Come on, Griff. You’ll be fine. Once you stop hiding out here, you’ll find out there’s a lot more to life than shoot-’em-up video games. You’ve got to know Fawn wants…”
“I don’t care what Fawn wants.” He wrapped his hands around her biceps and gave her a gentle shake. “I want you, don’t you get that? Not Fawn.”
He stared her straight in the eye, trying to see straight into her heart, but what he saw was fear, not love. Panic rose again, swelling in his chest, and he gave her another gentle shake.
“Don’t go, Riley. Please.”
She put her hands on his, tugging at his fingers, her eyes wary and wide. Her expression was calculating, as if she was trying to figure out how long she had to endure him, how soon she could escape. She thought he was one of those men, he realized. The ones who abused women, held them against her will.
That’s not what I’m doing. I’m just trying to make you see…
He was an idiot, or something worse. Instead of telling her he loved her, he’d frightened her. Furious with himself, he let her go. She staggered back, stumbling over the threshold to the mudroom and catching herself with one hand on the wall.
He hadn’t meant to push her, dammit.
“I’m sorry, Riley. I didn’t mean to do that.”
“Okay, sure. I’m going, all right? Take care of Bruce for me. I’ll be back to finish working on the house, but it might be a couple days. It might be…longer. I-I might wait until your dad gets back.”
She grabbed the duffel bag and backed out the door like she was afraid to turn her back on him. Like he was a wild animal or something and might attack her at any moment.
He clenched and unclenched his hands, trying to hold the bees that were building up inside, buzzing beneath his desperation. As her boots hit the porch steps, he rushed outside. He couldn’t let her go.
“Riley.”
She didn’t turn, just waved, as if this was some ordinary goodbye.
“Riley, I’m sorry,” he said. “You’re not hiding. You’re the bravest woman I know, and you’re dealing with things the best you can.”
She’d made it to the truck. She was opening the door.
“I don’t want Fawn, Riley. I want you.” He stopped at the edge of the porch, knowing he’d only scare her more if he ran after her. The b
ees pressed against his heart, squeezed out the words, and for once, finally, they were the right ones.
“I love you. Please, Riley. Stay.”
She stopped a moment, one foot in the truck, the other in the snow, and he thought he’d gotten through to her. But she didn’t look at him, and after a second or two, she pulled the other leg in and started to close the door.
He ran down the steps, feeling something winged and desperate rise in his throat. “Marry me, Riley,” he shouted.
She probably hadn’t heard him. Slamming the truck door, she started the engine. Bruce raced to the truck, following as it careened down the drive, his barking fading behind her.
Griff stood there in the cold for a long time, thinking about what he’d done and what he’d said. He regretted most of it. He never should have grabbed her like that. Never should have pushed her.
But as the dog trotted back to him, there was one thing he didn’t regret.
He really did love her. And he’d marry her this minute if he could.
Returning to the family room, he slumped down on the sofa and put his head in his hands. He’d told her all that too late. After he’d manhandled her, how could she believe him? He’d erased every bit of the trust he’d earned.
She was afraid of him. He’d made her that way. And he deserved to be alone.
Chapter 29
Riley pulled into her usual parking space behind the hardware store and sat behind the wheel, struggling to compose herself. She didn’t know if she was crying from fear, from anger, or from sorrow, but she needed to stop. Checking the rearview mirror, she winced at her red-rimmed eyes. then opened the truck door to plunge her foot into a drift nearly a foot deep. Trevor obviously hadn’t shoveled the lot or even the sidewalks.
Griff was right—the kid was useless. But at least Ed hadn’t tried to shovel and given himself a heart attack. With her gone, something like that could happen. Another reason she never should have left, no matter what his sisters wanted.
Hoisting her duffel bag from the truck bed, she tramped around the side of the building to the front door. She’d drop her belongings in the office, then get to work. The Harpies might not want her around, but somebody had to shovel the sidewalks and parking spots, check inventory, and keep the place clean, and obviously Trevor wasn’t up to the task.
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