by Elsa Kurt
“Quite a lovely home you have here, Mr. Pierce. If you ever wish to sell any—”
“Have a seat, Mr. Andersen,” Griff said sharply. Then he smiled a dangerous smile and added, “Please,” as he waved a cordial hand toward one of the low, deep leather chairs adjacent to his favorite.
“Ah, thanks,” Dane replied. His expression—wavering from nervous, to confused, then hopeful—would’ve been comical had Griff not known what a vile man he was.
Once Dane sat, Griff walked to his chair as if readying to sit across from the fraudulent art dealer. However, he turned back and remained standing, now towering over the blond man. It was an old, tried and true business tactic. From the corner of his eye, Griff could see Phillip smirking into his hand.
“Would you be so kind, Mr. Andersen, as to unwrap the painting?”
“Oh, right, yes. Of course,” stammered Dane. The package leaned against his knees and he hedged forward as if to stand. However, Griff did not step back, and Dane was forced to either ask him to move or remain seated. After a quick glance at the two standing men, Dane chose the latter. Once the painting was unwrapped, he turned it with a flourish toward Griff.
“It is lovely, yes? And a steal at only two hundred thousand dollars.”
Griff tilted his head this way and that, squinted at the counterfeit Inness, rubbed his jaw, and walked from side to side as if he were viewing the painting from different angles. He felt Dane watching his every move like a hungry hyena.
At last, he spoke. “Thank you for coming all the way out here. This is a lovely—albeit imitation—Inness, I must say.” He put a hand, palm out, at the now rising and sputtering Dane. “Sit, Mr. Andersen. No matter, no matter. That isn’t why I sent Phillip to see you yesterday. You see, we have a mutual acquaintance.”
Dane made a valiant attempt at regaining his composure. “Is that so, Mr. Pierce? Now, who might that be?”
Griff looked at Phillip and nodded. It was his turn to speak to the buffoon. “Mr. Andersen, my client has a proposition for you.”
Dane, continuing his blatantly false bravado, forced a laugh and said, “Oh, he does, does he?”
Phillip spelled out the demands. Dane’s face reddened, then paled at the mention of Jenna. Griff watched a myriad of emotions pass over the man. His eyes darted from Griff to Phillip, then back again. They remained silent, impassive.
Dane’s face contorted, and then, in an almost child-like whine, said, “You can’t prove anything. It’s Jenna’s word against mine.”
Griff’s entire body clenched with fury at the sound of her name coming out of Dane’s mouth. In a deathly cold voice—one he barely recognized as his own—he said, “Jenna’s word is all I need, Mr. Andersen.”
“And what if I don’t do as you say?”
Phillip smiled. They’d been waiting for the moment when they could watch Dane’s face as he realized his fate was sealed. “We thought you might ask that. Would you be so kind as to take a look at these?”
Dane skimmed the first page slowly, the second faster, then tore through them rapidly. He shook the stack at them and growled, “Where the hell did you get these?”
Phillip responded calmly, patronizingly. “Does it matter, Mr. Andersen?” He and Griff both shook their heads. “No, what does matter is that you do as you’re told. If you do that, there’s no reason why you can’t live a long, productive life outside prison walls.”
“Say that we have a deal, Mr. Andersen,” added Griff, now impatient to get this bastard out of Averly and as far from Jenna as possible, “then get the hell out of my home.”
Plaintively, Dane said, “Let me just talk to her. Is she here?” Then his eyes narrowed. “She is, isn’t she?” He stood, knocking the painting over with a whoosh and a thud. He stepped on top of it, heedless. His hand balled into a fist, but Griff was faster. The solid whack of skin hitting skin was muffled only by the crunch of bones breaking cartilage. A flower of bright red blood bloomed across Dane’s mouth and his eyes went briefly round with shock. Griff heard his muffled gurgle.
“Jenna.”
My God, he’s still not ready to give up. In that moment, Griff was certain he could kill a man. Also, at that moment—thankfully for all—Andre burst through the doors and had Dane in his massive, vise-like grip. He man-handled him through the door, where they paused abruptly. It was then that Griff saw Jenna. The violent rage he’d felt just seconds before reduced to a simmer and his heart ached at the sight of her paled but fierce face. She was no longer the timid, terrified mouse Dane had worked so hard to turn her into. Griff knew right then that he was seeing a glimpse of the Jenna she was destined to be. She was becoming a lioness before his eyes.
Griff &
Jenna
Once Phillip had left and the aftermath of the morning’s events was dealt with, Griff and Jenna took the dogs out for a long walk. He explained everything to her—from the hiring of Phillip to investigate her to the events that morning—with the hope that she would understand and the concern that she might be angry.
After a long silence, Jenna asked, “So, despite everything, you hired me anyhow?”
It wasn’t the question or the tone he’d expected. “Yes, Jenna. You’re not…angry? I can’t help but wonder if I’d be so accepting, were the situation reversed,” he admitted.
“Well, it is weird to know I’d been followed, photographed, and my life investigated, don’t get me wrong. But I guess I’m just used to crazy men stalking me.” She shrugged. At the sight of Griff’s dubious expression, Jenna elbowed him and laughed, “I’m teasing, Griff. Listen, I get it, okay? In your world, you can’t be too careful, right?”
Griff stopped and took her hand. “Our world, Jenna,” he said.
Jenna cocked her head and smiled softly at him, then pulled his hand to her lips and pressed her cheek into his palm. Then she stepped back so that she could look him fully in the eyes. “You’re very wonderful, you know.”
“I sense a ‘but.’ What is it, Jenna? Do you not feel the same?”
“Oh, Griff. I love you. You, these dogs, this incredible life—there’s no place I’d rather be. I’m just—”
“Scared. Of course, you are. There’s no rush, no pressure. We can take things slowly, Jenna. You were robbed of so much, I know. Tell me, what is it you want for yourself, and I will play as big or as little a role as you choose.”
“I’m so glad to hear you say that. I think I know exactly what I want to do too.”
“And I believe you can do anything you desire—with or without my help.”
Jenna stepped gratefully into his open arms, her heart swelling with gratitude. Griff tilted her chin up and placed a kiss on her lips. “Come, let’s hear all about your plans, yes?”
Arm in arm they strolled toward the lake, and Jenna told Griff all about her desire to become a behaviorist—for real—and that she wanted to personally train theirs to be service dogs.
“…a non-profit, and we could call it, ‘Saving Grace.’ Do you think Grace would have approved of my idea, Griff? I don’t want to do anything to disrespect her, you know.”
It was a moment before Griff could speak over the lump in his throat. “I think she would have loved that very, very much.”
That night, after dinner, Griff and Jenna stood before the guesthouse doors. He scratched the back of his neck and looked down at her resolute expression. “Are you sure about this? I mean, it seems a bit—”
“I am completely certain, Griffin Pierce. We are courting, and you have just dropped me off after our date. We shall kiss, and then you will go home to your place, and I will go to mine.” She crossed her arms over her chest, tipped her chin up, closed her eyes, and pursed her lips for a chaste kiss.
Griff laughed and stepped closer. He bent down and brushed his lips over hers once, twice. Jenna’s lips parted slightly at the touch and he drew her close, kissing her fully. Jenna’s arms wrapped around his neck and his hands ran down the length of her, stopping at her hip
s. He pulled her against his hardness and she gasped, breaking away breathlessly.
“Oh, you. Now that’s not fair.” She chuckled, wagging a finger at him. She looked left, then right, then at the soft lights glowing through the French doors of the main house kitchen. “All right, you win. Come in for a nightcap, Mr. Pierce?”
“Well, I don’t know, Miss Caldwell. Isn’t it too—” Jenna grabbed him by his waistband and led him inside.
Their lovemaking was playful and tender as they continued to learn each other’s bodies. Exploring and touching, every emotion and sensation was heightened by their mutual adoration. Griff anticipated and fulfilled Jenna’s needs, and she filled the emptied caverns of his heart and soul with her warmth. It wasn’t that she made Griff feel young again, it was that she made him feel whole again.
Afterward, as they lay spent in each other’s arms and a tangle of bedsheets, Jenna shyly expressed the same sentiment. “It’s like—I feel complete. Or at least on my way to being complete. Being with you makes me feel safe, but I also feel free. Like I can do anything, you know?”
Griff placed a kiss at her temple. “You are both of those things, Jenna. And I believe you can do anything as well. I suppose it’s ironic, but being with you makes me feel vulnerable.” Jenna tightened her arm around his waist. Griff chuckled and patted her arm. “It’s a good thing, Jenna. The last time I let someone close enough to me in that way, it was my wife. I knew then that I’d found the perfect keeper of my heart, and I know it now as well.”
Jenna propped herself on her elbow and looked into Griff’s eyes. “I promise you, Griff, I will take such good care of it too. I’ll protect your heart the way you’ve protected me.”
Griff tenderly tucked her loose, long strands of hair behind her ear and replied, “We will protect each other. Equally. I want to you be my partner in life, Jenna.”
Jenna’s brows drew together, and she tilted her head, not quite believing what she thought he was saying. “Are you suggesting—”
“I want you to marry me, Jenna. You don’t have to answer now. Hell, this isn’t even a proper proposal. I just want you to know where I stand, but if—”
“Griff? Shut up and kiss me.” He smiled and kissed her. She nodded against his lips and whispered, “Yes, I’ll marry you. When you make a proper proposal, that is.”
Epilogue
Griff and Jenna somehow managed to wait six months before he officially asked Jenna to marry him and she officially accepted. They were married in an intimate ceremony by the lake with all their dogs around them…and a beaming Tilly by their side, of course.
Though their courtship was anything but typical, it was theirs and they loved it. More than anything else, though, they loved each other. Jenna fulfilled her dream to become a certified behaviorist and acquired her business degree. She took over all aspects of growing their kennels. Under her leadership, Saving Grace became one of the most renowned service dog companies in the world.
Griff focused his attention on philanthropy, discovering his own passion for giving was as great as his first wife’s had been. He now had not one, but two amazing women to inspire him and considered himself doubly blessed. In Jenna’s honor, he began a foundation for women and children fleeing abusive partners, which included career training programs, free self-defense courses, and a variety of resources.
On a fall day, one year after they’d married, Jenna surprised Griff with the news that they were going to have a baby. They were both surprised to discover they would be having twins. The once relatively quiet, sprawling estate in the hills of upstate New York was suddenly and delightfully abound with noise, laughter, and joy. So very much joy…
THE END
About the Author
Elsa Kurt is a multi-genre, indie & traditionally published author of six novels, as well as three novellas published through Crave Publishing in their Craving: Country anthology, Craving: Loyalty anthology, and Craving: Billions anthology. She is a lifelong New England resident and married mother of two grown daughters. When not writing, Elsa can be found gardening, kayaking, sitting by her pond, and just about anywhere that’s outdoors.
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Kylie:
Crossing Lines
By: AJ Renee
Chapter 1
Kylie
“What?” I cry, grief squeezing my heart until I can barely breathe.
“Kylie, he’s gone. I’m sorry.” Brendan’s eyes are glossy with unshed tears and his jaw is clenched tight.
Without thinking, I strike him in the chest. “No! You’re lying! The doctor said it was a mild heart attack…that he would be fine!”
Brendan grabs my wrists, holding them to his chest. “I’m so sorry.”
My knees give out, but before I hit the ground, arms wrap around me and I’m cradled against his firm body. Tears pour down my face as I lose control. Racking sobs, that I know belong to me but remind me of a wounded animal, reach my ears.
“I’m so sorry, baby.”
In the back recesses of my mind, I register what my father and others would call “inappropriate.” I don’t care. Brendan’s lips press against my temple and his body shudders against mine with his own emotions.
“He was a great man,” Brendan whispers.
I nod, unable to speak past the pain. Doing the only thing I can right now, I burrow into Brendan’s comforting arms, noting his scent for the first time. I let him hold me while I give in to the tears.
My mind struggles to accept the news.
Kyle Courier is gone.
Dead.
My best friend. My confidant. My namesake. My number one supporter. My grandfather.
He was that and so much more to me and those whose lives he touched. Except for one person that is…my father, Michael Courier.
Pushing him from my mind, memories of my granddaddy flood me. When a chuckle escapes me, Brendan’s grip loosens. He palms my cheek and raises my face to his. His blue eyes are red-rimmed and my smile fades.
“What’s funny, Kylie?” Worry is etched into his features. I can’t blame him after I’d just soaked his crisp, white dress shirt.
“Granddaddy…he used to say he would haunt my father after he died to make sure he didn’t gamble Granddaddy’s hard-earned money.”
“Kyle hated wasted money.”
The smile on my face surprises me. “What’s the point of hard work if you’re gonna piss it all away?” I say, imitating Granddaddy.
Brendan’s chuckle lights his face and my breath catches. He’s always been a handsome man. One I’ve admired from afar. No more, no less. If anyone was going to tell me of Granddaddy’s passing, I’m glad it was Brendan. With a sigh, I step back. The loss of his warmth causes me to fold my arms under my breasts.
“Thank you,” I whisper and wipe my face.
“No need to thank me. Kyle didn’t want you to hear it from some lab coat,” Brendan tells me, and I realize something is missing.
My back straightens as I narrow my eyes. “What aren’t you telling me?”
He shifts uncomfortably. “He lied.”
“Who?” I snap.
“Kyle.”
“No! No, you’re wrong, Granddaddy has never lied to me.”
Brendan’s eyes soften before he cups the back of his neck with a hand. “It wasn’t a heart attack.”
My heart squeezes and I grind my teeth to stop myself from speaking. Brendan moves to the couch in my office a
nd plops down, unlike his normally put together self. Sitting on the edge of the cushion with his elbows on his knees, he stares at the ground. I’ve never seen him like this. He’s one of the lawyers for the Cougars and handled a few personal affairs for our family. Brendan is always composed and the epitome of professional.
His eyes pierce mine. “He’s been battling prostate cancer for two years now. It was never a heart attack.”
My skin cools as my blood runs cold. “Cancer? But why—”
“He was old and didn’t want to fight it. Only me and the doctors knew. I begged him to tell you, but he refused.”
“Stubborn old goat,” I mutter and Brendan chuckles.
“That he was.” He smiles sadly before exhaling. “Look, I came here as soon as I got the call. There’s a list of things that I need to do for you and a shitstorm to control.”
“Father.”
Brendan takes a deep breath and stands. “Yeah…”
“What will happen to the team?” I ask.
Kyle Courier was the sole owner of the NFL Cougars. He’d bought into the franchise fifty-two years ago, after my father had been born. He’d built an empire and a family within this team. He loved his family, and that included all the players who had come through the franchise doors.
I can’t imagine the team in someone else’s hands. If left to my father, he would be liable to sell it and use the earnings to fund his next extravagant trip, and the rest would end up in some gambling hall or casino.
Brendan pushes to his feet. His tie is loose around his neck and he’s aged since I saw him yesterday evening. “I’ll schedule a meeting with you and your father to go over the will as soon as I can. If you need me in the meantime, don’t hesitate to come find me.” Brendan’s office is down the same hall as Granddaddy’s and my own.