Identical smiles spread across Reid’s and Brig’s faces. “Perfect. We’ll see you Saturday, then.”
And with that, they all walk away, the same breadth in their shoulders and gait in their walks. It’s such a shame that the town believes in this ridiculous curse—the Knightly brothers really are quite a catch.
I sit cross-legged on my couch after a nice, long shower and a good exfoliation. I scrubbed every inch of my body, letting the heat of the water soak into my pores. I felt refreshed and much better afterward, like I washed the day off me.
I picked up some of Oliver’s ice cream on the way home, and now that I’m clean, lotioned, and dressed in my heart pajama pants and pink tank top, I cue up The Wedding Singer. I need a good laugh.
The movie starts, and I scoop up a big spoonful of my strawberry-cheesecake ice cream. I’m about to shove it in my mouth when there’s a knock at the door. I glance toward the front window, trying to catch who it is through the glass, but I can’t get the right angle to see.
With a sigh, I pause the movie, set down my ice cream, and walk over to the entryway, where I open the door to find Griffin standing on my porch, head hanging low, hands in his pockets.
He glances up, his eyes going straight to mine, sending a flash of heat through me. Even when he seems upset, he’s the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.
He grips the back of his neck and clears his throat. “Uh, hey. I have to head out to my shift at the fire department, but I wanted to stop by really quickly and tell you sorry about earlier. You just caught me off guard.”
“No need to apologize, Griffin, it’s my fault—”
He shakes his head. “It’s not your fault. Gossip comes with the territory of living here; I should have seen it coming. I just wish I’d told you myself, that’s all. But there’s no point dwelling on it. What’s done is done.”
Why does it feel like when he says done, he means something else—like our friendship or whatever has been brewing between the two of us—is done?
I shift on my feet and grip the doorknob, nervous to hear his answer to my next question. “Are we okay? I don’t want things to be weird between us.”
“They won’t be.”
“Promise?”
He nods and takes a step back. “Promise.” He lifts his hand and waves. “I’ll see you around, Ren. Have a good night.”
My heart plummets as he turns to walk away. For some reason, I thought that maybe he would at least give me a hug, but as I watch his retreating back, I realize that his promise holds no weight.
I’m pretty sure everything has changed between us . . . with one simple whisper of gossip.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
GRIFFIN
“When did Rylee and Beck say they were going to get here?” I ask Reid and Brig just as they finish setting up their tent. Mine was done ten minutes ago, no thanks to my brothers. Reid and Brig should never be left alone to do anything.
“Beck texted about half an hour ago saying they left.”
“Okay, so they should be here soon.” I scan the campground, making sure everything is set up.
Camping chairs around the campfire—check.
Firewood stacked and ready to go—check.
Cooking utensils set up on the picnic table—check.
Rylee and Beck are bringing the food, so we should be good.
Normally we have a larger camping group, but this weekend didn’t work out with a lot of people, so it’s a small crew this go-around. Which is fine with me—the less I have to make small talk, the better.
I still feel a little rocked after Ren’s confession. When I saw her upset, on the verge of tears, my initial reaction was to fix it, to take away that sad look on her face, to make everything better, because that expression of utter defeat in her eyes—hell, I don’t ever want to see it.
And the realization that I’d do anything to take away her pain was something I wasn’t ready for. I wanted to scoop her up into my arms and make her smile, hear her laugh, wash away all the sadness from her life. That scared the shit out of me; the last time I felt that was with Claire.
And then she brought up Claire. Seeing the sadness in her eyes over my loss—fuck, it was too much.
Ever since she’s moved here, Ren has wiggled her way into my life one conversation at a time, to the point that I get so goddamn excited whenever she’s around, my heart taking flight, my hands itching to touch her, to press her body up against mine, to finally find out what it’s like to feel her lips glide across mine.
It’s why I stopped by her house the other night before my shift at the firehouse. I had to see her, to make sure she was okay. I couldn’t stand the thought of having left her the way I did.
It took all my willpower to walk away that night, to turn around and make my way to the firehouse, because when she opened her door, all I wanted to do was back her up into the wall of her entryway and bury my head in the crook of her neck, to work out my feelings for her and just . . . fuck, just be with her.
The urge is strong, the consequences even stronger.
I’m caught between a rock and a hard place.
“There they are,” Reid calls out, a huge smile on his face. “It’s about time.”
Beck pulls up in his black minivan, the triplets luckily with Rylee’s parents this weekend—how they watch that many kids at the same time, I have no idea—and he parks next to my truck.
“I’ll go help them unload,” Brig offers as Rylee and Beck open their doors. A side door opens as well.
Confused, I turn toward Reid, who’s still wearing that shit-eating grin. “Did they bring someone with them?”
“Hey, Ren, glad you could make it,” Brig calls out loudly.
Ren?
I make eye contact with Reid. “Surprise,” he says unabashedly.
My teeth grind together, my hands clenching at my sides. “What the fuck, Reid. Why is she here?”
“I invited her.”
Speaking through my teeth, I say, “I only brought three two-person tents. Where the hell is she supposed to sleep?”
The cocky motherfucker pats me on the back. “Well, she has her choice between three Knightly brothers. May the best man win.” With a wink, he takes off toward the minivan to help unpack the food.
I turn around, trying to gain my composure. I wasn’t expecting her to be here; I’m not fucking prepared for her to be here. And I’m certainly not going to let either of my brothers sleep with her, that’s for damn sure.
“Hey, Griffin,” her soft voice says from behind me. I turn around to find her in jean shorts, a tank top with a flannel shirt wrapped around her waist, and hiking boots. She looks all kinds of sexy and tempting.
Yeah, no one will be sleeping in her tent but me.
“Hey, Ren,” I say awkwardly with a wave. Be normal, Christ.
She scans the campground and plays with the sleeves of the flannel shirt tied around her small waist. “Can I be honest? When I said yes to this, I kind of forgot that you headed up the entire club. So I didn’t even think you’d be here. If I’d thought about it, I never would have come and invaded your space.”
What the hell is she talking about? Invading my space?
I might be dense, but I thought things were okay between us after I left her house. I thought the tension I was feeling toward her was only one sided and nothing for her to worry about.
I guess I was wrong.
“Ren, you’re not invading my space.” Not until we’re going to have to share a tent, but I don’t say that just yet.
“I wanted to give you some time away from always running into me.” She glances around again. “And it seems like I did a poor job. I can ask Beck to drive me into town, and I can take an Uber back to Port Snow, give you some time with your friends.”
Does she really think I’m that upset? That I don’t want to see her? Can’t she see it in my eyes—the way I light up whenever she’s around?
Obviously not, and that pains me.
Unable to stop myself, I reach out and take her hand in mine, rubbing my thumb over the backs of her knuckles. She takes in a sharp breath of air, her eyes fixed on our connection, before she looks up at me, searching for answers.
“I’m glad you’re here, Ren.”
Her expression softens, her fingers linking with mine. “You are?”
I nod. “I am.” I glance over her shoulder to find my brothers, Rylee, and Beck all staring at us, giant smiles across their faces. All meddlers, every single one of them.
But even though in the pit of my stomach I couldn’t be more terrified of what I’m feeling for her, I’m happy for one of the first times in two years.
“Come here.” I pull her into my chest and wrap my arms around her shoulders. She’s still for a second before she gives in and rests her head on my chest, her arms coming up around my waist. I squeeze her tight. “I’m sorry for making it weird. I’m really glad you’re here.”
“I’m happy I’m here too.” She looks up at me. “I only brought marshmallows. Brig said to bring only marshmallows and clothes. I don’t have any camping gear.”
How convenient for Brig to forgo the camping gear and fail to mention the extra person.
I step away and scratch the back of my neck, taking in the three tents and six people. Christ, how am I supposed to say this?
“About that.” I wince. “Brig never told me you were coming, so I don’t have an extra tent for you.”
“Oh.” Her face falls.
Quickly, I add, “We have three two-person tents and six people . . .”
She studies me for a few seconds, then turns toward everyone else; they quickly avert their gazes and start unpacking the van. I see her silently assessing the tent arrangements, and when it finally dawns on her, her mouth forms an O shape as she turns back to me. “Um, what does that mean?”
“Well, Rylee and Beck will be sharing; I know they cherish these nights alone together, so that leaves me, Brig, and Reid, and to hell if you’re sharing with one of them. I, uh, could sleep in the cab of my truck and—”
She shakes her head. “I like camping, but I don’t like camping alone. There’s no way I’m staying in a tent by myself. Sorry.” She pats my chest. “You just earned yourself a roommate.”
And despite myself, that makes me extremely happy.
“She’s killing it, Griff. You’re going to have to thank Ren for feeding you tonight,” Reid calls out from a few feet away.
Ren sits back in her camping chair after catching another fish and starts to add another worm to her hook. Not going to lie: it’s a huge turn-on that not only does this girl know how to bait her own hook, but she has no qualms about pulling the fish off and putting them in the cooler. Not to mention she’s caught three fish to my zero. Whatever she’s doing to catch the fish, I like it.
Our dad used to take all five of us fishing here. Jen would complain the whole time, not wanting anything to do with it, while my brothers and I would chase each other around the lake with hooks. That stopped immediately once Reid took a hook to the palm. And when I was older, I’d take Claire here. She didn’t have much interest in it at all, and that was okay, because she would just sit and talk to me.
But Ren, she knows her way around a fishing pole and tackle box.
Rylee and Beck stayed back at the campground, and we all know why. They wanted some alone time, and they weren’t subtle about it, either, but it’s a good trade-off because Beck will be cooking dinner when we get back. Rylee isn’t allowed near the food—she’s notorious for burning anything she touches.
“Okay, spill it. How are you so good at fishing?”
Ren chuckles and casts her line. “Growing up, my dad used to take me fishing at least twice a month. It was our thing. We would go to different lakes around the area and even fish off some of the piers. He taught me everything he knows. It’s about the chase in the water, not necessarily about patience. You have to give a little to get a lot.” She calmly tugs on her pole and wheels the line in a bit.
“You look like a professional.”
“Pretty close to it.” She nods at my pole. “Did you ever do anything special with your dad?”
“Fishing.” I chuckle. “But clearly it was a hot mess because he would take all of us kids. We never really got around to catching much because we spent more time bickering over who got what bait.”
“I guess it pays to be an only child sometimes.” She reels in her line and casts it out again. “It’s beautiful out here; I can’t imagine ever wanting to leave. I can feel every muscle in my body relax.”
“Two days of dealing with my brothers’ constant bickering makes leaving easy, but when I come up here by myself, now, that’s a different story. There’s a little hike I like to go on when I’m here. The path isn’t too hard to find, but it leads up to a secluded pond surrounded by trees. The water is so clear. If you’re interested, I can take you up there tomorrow, check it out.”
“I’d like that, as long as you don’t take me up there and murder me or something.”
I let out a loud laugh. “Do you think I’m some sort of serial killer?”
“It’s always the nice guys, the ones you would never think are serial killers, who actually turn out to have tons of skeletons in their closets.”
“Well, there’s nothing to worry about where I’m concerned. No skeletons or psycho-killer tendencies.”
“Figured as much, but just testing you. Never can be too sure.”
I chuckle. “I can appreciate you wanting to be safe, but may I remind you, you already committed to sharing a tent with me, so what does that say about your way of thinking?”
She smiles. “Never said I was intelligent. I might be great with numbers, but the common sense is lacking.”
“Stick with me; I’ll teach you all about common sense.” And just like that, her pole bows, and she’s hooked another fish. In awe, I watch her expertly reel it in, a smile on her face and a laugh rolling off her tongue the entire time.
“All I can say is thank God I brought hot dogs, or else we’d be in some trouble.” Beck chuckles.
“Is that what happens when you get married—you start morphing into each other?” Reid asks right before taking a giant bite of his hot dog.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Rylee says, offended.
Brig chimes in this time. “It means your husband is starting to cook like you, charring the hell out of everything. Poor Ren over there caught five fish, and Beck overcooked every single one of them to the point of being inedible. Hell, we’re all going to be smelling like burnt fish for days.”
It’s true. I can still smell it on me. I’ll be taking a shower tonight; hell if I’m going to go to bed in the same tent as Ren stinking like this.
Not even showing one ounce of remorse, Beck shrugs. “My wife needed assistance in the tent, so I went to help her. I’m not going to apologize for being the decent guy and helping a woman out.”
“She needed help taking her shirt off,” Reid deadpans, clearly still upset over the fish.
“And believe me, I really wanted to give her a hand.”
We all groan, except for Ren, who seems giddy, grinning over the “romantic” gesture.
Diverting the topic away from Beck and the burnt fish, Ren asks, “So did you all grow up together? Besides you, Beck. I heard you actually lived in Los Angeles as well.”
Rylee wipes her fingers on her napkin. “We did grow up together. Oddly, even though I could work anywhere, I really had no desire to leave Port Snow. I liked it, my friends were there, and the beach has always been an inspiration.”
“Not to mention her sex chair,” Brig cuts in. “Did she tell you about the sex chair in the coffee shop?”
“Brig, I swear to God, I’m going to punch you in the neck if you call it that one more time. It’s not a sex chair, but yes, I told Ren that idiots like you call it that.”
“Is it o
r is it not the place where you write all of your sex scenes?”
She purses her lips and looks off to the side. “It’s a comfortable chair.”
The picnic table erupts with laughter. Rylee crosses her arms over her chest. “I hate all of you.”
“Even me?” Beck asks, pressing a kiss to her head.
“Especially you. Poor Ren has to put up with all you idiots. You’ve lured her into your little web of friends, and now she has no other choice but to hang out with you fools. I’m going to start stealing her away, taking her to my house for drinks and girl time.”
“That sounds amazing, actually,” Ren chimes in. “I can’t remember the last time I had a girls’ night.”
“Well then, it’s settled—we’ll have one when we get back. I’ll fill you in on the real gossip, not the crap you hear from random locals here and there.”
“Oh, I think I’m good on the gossip for now.” Ren shoots a glance at me before turning back to the fire.
Brig nods. “Smart—the less you know, the better. Which reminds me . . .” He leans forward and practically whispers, “Have you heard anything about me in particular? I would like the chance to defend my honor.”
“Me too.” Reid raises his hand.
“I haven’t heard much,” Ren answers with a sly grin.
“Much? That means you’ve heard at least something,” Reid says. “Go on, spill it.”
Ren shifts on the bench, her shoulder grazing mine briefly. “Are you sure you want to hear it? You might get upset.”
“Can’t be anything that I haven’t heard already. Give us what you’ve got,” Brig says.
Under the table, she nudges me with her elbow, almost as if to say, Watch this. I have a feeling we’re about to get a little bit of a show, and I couldn’t be more excited. I fold my arms over my chest and lean back so I can get a good view of both Brig and Reid. This is going to be good.
“Okay, well, when I was at the general store the other day, getting ice cream—mint chocolate chip, to be exact, which is my favorite by far—”
“Mine too,” Beck cuts in. “So fucking smooth.”
That Second Chance Page 18