Clare’s burst of laughter was a musical delight that made him feel like a king for being the cause of it.
“You’ll have fun. Katie and I will cheer you on. The town will love seeing you play for them.” She grabbed his hand and tugged his arm tighter around her shoulders, giving him a flirtatious look that pretty much would have brought him to his knees if he weren’t the physical specimen that he was. “Anyone who pitches for Birch Crossing gets a free pass for indiscretions like murder. Public goodwill would be totally worth a couple hours of your time.”
Ahh... now he got it. If he showed up, he wouldn’t be such a pariah, and then, maybe, just maybe, Clare wouldn’t get so much grief about him. If that made her feel better about the fact he wanted to toss her over his shoulder and cart her off to her bedroom, well, then, hell. How could he turn it down? “Okay,” he said, not taking his gaze off her. “I’m in.”
For her, he would do it.
The high school band was playing.
Flags were waving.
Toddlers were running the bases.
A dozen grills were cooking up burgers, and three picnic tables were loaded with potato salad, fruit salad, coleslaw, baked beans and a dozen other homemade delights. A tent with a hand-printed sign proclaimed that Birch’s Best had set up shop, and there were plenty of guys in red tee shirts and matching caps already camped around it, beer in one hand, baseball gloves in the other.
Griffin had to admit the atmosphere was pretty contagious, and he was feeling a little fired up to hit the ball field. It had been too damn long since he’d gripped a ball, given grief to teammates and flexed a little muscle, and there were even fans. Damned if he wasn’t happy Clare had made him come.
“There’s your group,” Clare said, pointing at the beer tent. “Go suit up, and I’ll see you later.”
Griffin set the huge carton of cupcakes down on the beside the jewelry display Astrid was in the middle of arranging on a pink pashmina she’d spread on her half of the table. Clare had been a machine all afternoon, pumping out the cupcakes, and he and Katie had helped.
Turned out, his organized attorney had totally forgotten that the game was tonight, and she had failed to engage in her usual three-day pre-opening night cooking spree. Griffin had to admit that a high-stress cupcake deadline with flying icing, spinning Kitchen-Aides (not bad for a guy who didn’t even know what a Kitchen-Aide was twelve hours ago), and tissue paper was one of the most entertaining afternoons he’d ever experienced.
With Clare and Katie around, it hadn’t been that hard to fill the day without work. It had been a damned fine time, in fact. “You need help unpacking?”
Clare smiled and shooed him off. “Your team’s waiting for you. Go play.”
“All right.” Griffin paused for a second, then he grabbed Clare’s wrist and yanked her over to him and planted a kiss firmly on her pert little mouth.
She smacked him in the chest as she pulled away, but her eyes were dancing. “Griffin!”
“I’m a sports hero now. I need my legion of adoring fans.” He winked at Astrid, who was cheerfully eavesdropping on their conversation.
Astrid had turquoise and gold ribbons woven into six tiny braids barely visible in her thick hair. Cute, but not nearly as adorable as Clare with her tossed-up pony tail and hoop earrings. Her faded jeans clung to her hips with tempting perfection, and he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off the pink toenails peeking out from her braided sandals.
He raised his brows at Clare in a challenge. “Someday, maybe you won’t be embarrassed for the world to know that I think you’re sexy as hell.”
Her cheeks turned fiery. “Go play baseball, for heaven’s sake.”
He didn’t move, thoroughly enjoying teasing her and not feeling particularly inclined to walk away from her just yet. She was simply too damned intoxicating. “A kiss at home plate if I hit a home run?”
“No!”
“I’ll kiss you,” Astrid chimed in.
He didn’t look away from Clare. “I want Clare.”
Clare rolled her eyes, but her smile widened. “I’m beginning to figure that out.”
“Griffin!” Jackson waved him over, and the rest of the guys on the team were giving him impatient looks. “Come on!”
“Right. Gotta run.” Well aware that he had an audience of all the most athletic men in the town, men who might decide to make a move on Clare at some point, Griffin grabbed her around the waist and pulled her against him, kissing her again, firmly and deeply, leaving no doubt as to exactly who Clare belonged to, at least for tonight.
He was still grinning when he headed over to the boys.
* * *
“Oh, sweetheart, you’re in trouble,” Astrid said as Griffin walked away. “You’re being hunted, big time.”
“I know.” Clare made a face as she began to unload the cupcakes from the box, her heart still thundering from Griffin’s kiss. The man was incorrigible! How dare he attack her like that in public? But she couldn’t keep from smiling to herself. It had felt kind of amazing to be claimed like that. Ed had never wanted her enough to claim her. She had to admit, it was pretty cool.
“Really?” Astrid raised her brows at Clare’s grimace. “It’s that disturbing to have a man like
him
after you?”
Clare finally burst out grinning, unable to contain her giddiness. “It’s scaring me to death, but it’s totally amazing. I’ve never felt like this.”
Astrid smiled as she began arranging her silver charm bracelets on a blue tie-dyed cloth. Each one had a different inspirational word, thought up one night by the three friends during a wine and cupcake brainstorming fest. There were the typical ones of love, peace and dream, but a few creative ones had been thrown in. Surprisingly, “irreverence” and “be amused” had wound up to be two of Astrid’s top sellers. “It’s some kind of rush to be pursued by a man who makes your spine tingle,” Astrid said as she slid the “snuggle” and “dance” bracelets over her own wrist. “You deserve to be pursued. You’re very worthy.”
“It’s dangerous.” Clare set a pink and gold tablecloth over her half of the table.
“Definitely.”
“He’ll break my heart.”
Astrid set a glittery earring tree on the table. “I’m afraid it’s looking that way.” She straightened one of the pairs of earrings that had gotten twisted.
Clare arranged a gold tassel along the edges of her display. “And I’ll never get over him if I sleep with him.”
“Who could?”
Clare leaned on the table as she watched Griffin strip off his tee shirt so he could put on the team uniform. His body was hard and well-muscled, his shoulders broad. The man had a washboard stomach, and his biceps were ripped. Ed had been an eighteen-year-old actor. Muscles had not been part of his vocabulary.
But Griffin...he was all man.
Ed had wooed her with magic words and the excitement of an outsider bringing freedom to the life of a small town girl. He’d barely had to do anything to win her over. He’d been a boy with dreams and a used VW Beetle that had all his belongings in the back seat, and that had been enough for a seventeen-year-old innocent who wanted to spread her wings and fly.
Griffin, however, was power. He was strength. He was enough to break through the walls she’d so carefully constructed over the years. “He makes me laugh, Astrid.”
“Oh...” Astrid put her hand over her heart, her brown eyes softening with understanding. “Really?”
“Yes. I didn’t realize how much I missed laughing.” Between the water fight and the baking, the afternoon with Griffin and Katie had been one of the most magical days she’d had in what felt like forever. He was such a flirt with both of them, and his humor had been so contagious. Part of the joy of the experience had been the unexpectedness of his sense of humor. She still marveled at the sight of that dimple whenever she saw it, so incongruous with the serious businessman he presented to the world.
Griffin looked over at her as he pulled the shirt over his head, and he tossed her a cheeky grin. She smiled back and gave him a small wave. “He’s leaving me,” she told Astrid, recalling his answer when she’d asked him whether he’d consider moving up to Maine to be with Brooke. “He’s already promised he is.”
Astrid sighed with understanding. “And how do you feel about that?”
She met her friend’s gaze. “I don’t think that’s going to be enough to stop me.”
Astrid gave her a long look. “You’re willing to cope with the consequences if you sleep with him, knowing that he won’t stay with you?”
“I know the facts, so I’m not lying to myself about what could happen between us long term. So, I guess, yes, I’m willing to accept the consequences.” Oh, God. Was she really thinking about sleeping with him? Had she made her decision? Nervousness tingled down her spine, but at the same time, it felt right. So right. How could she walk away from the way he made her feel? Whether it was for a minute, or a day, or a week, didn’t she deserve to enjoy it for however long she could have it? Her life had been so planned and so careful for fifteen years that the idea of releasing all the stringent constraints for a few moments was so exhilarating. What would it feel like to breathe freely again? To laugh with giddiness? To forget about rules and responsibility and obligations, and to simply live in the moment?
Astrid smiled and took her hands. “Then you must, without a doubt, let your spirit fly.”
Clare’s heart began to race, searching her friend’s face for reassurance. “You really think so?”
Astrid nodded. “You’ll survive whatever happens. You always do.” She put her arm around Clare and squeezed. “And we’ll be here to pick you up if it’s harder than you think.”
“You don’t think I’m being crazy?”
“Of course you’re crazy,” Emma announced as she hurried up, towing a cart laden with paintings and display stands. Since it was a work day, her blonde hair was blown out and beautiful, reminding Clare of the confident, sensual woman she’d been before she’d left town. “I’m so sorry I’m late. Traffic was awful out of Portland, and I got off work late. What’s Clare being crazy about?”
“The man on the mound,” Astrid said, nodding at the softball field.
Emma turned to look at the game as Griffin jogged across the infield. “He’s playing for the Pirates?” She dropped the handle of the cart onto the grass and set her hands on her hips as she watched him. “That’s really sweet. I wouldn’t have thought he’s that type.”
“I know.” Clare looked around the ball field at all the people still arriving, and those who had already set up blankets and beach chairs. Two towns of supporters, all cheering for the players. People were shouting Griffin’s name, and he doffed his cap toward the crowd. His shoulders were relaxed as he lined up toward home plate, and he looked great in his black sweats and bright red tee shirt.
“He’s like a chameleon,” Emma said as she set up an easel. “He looks like he grew up here, and I bet he fits in just as well with his suit and fancy restaurants.”
Clare pictured Griffin looking dashing for a night on the town, and she sighed. “I bet he looks great in a suit.”
“Hard to believe that’s the Slipper King.” Astrid handed Clare a gold and silver peace necklace to wear. Astrid always had them well-adorned with her wares, claiming that it helped sell them if people saw them being worn. “I always thought the Slipper King should be old and fat, wearing a velour leisure suit and a toupee.”
“Not a sexy, lean, muscle-bound hottie?” Emma set a painting of a loon and its baby on an easel, but Clare knew that the nature scenes weren’t what really drove Emma. Somewhere in that wagon were the paintings where Emma poured her soul out, the bright colors, the angry lines, the confusion and the fear that leapt off the canvas and consumed anyone who saw them.
Clare fastened the necklace, as the Slipper King looked back over his shoulder and nodded right at her, publicly acknowledging her from his spot on center stage. “He’s going to get me in such hot water with Eppie.”
“So? Maybe a little hot water will be good for you.” Astrid gave Emma two brooches to put on her shirt. One was engraved with the word “believe,” and the other said “dream.”
“Did you see who’s up at bat?” Emma fastened the “believe” pin to her shirt, but handed the “dream” one to Clare. “Didn’t that guy hit four home runs off Bruce last year?”
“I think so.” Clare pinned the brooch on as Griffin reared back for the first pitch. His body was so lithe and athletic, positively rippling with energy and control. It reminded her of how he’d seemed that night on the mountain. All male. So in control. So powerful.
The softball spun toward the plate, and the batter took a hard swing at it. The bat connected, and suddenly the ball exploded, throwing white shreds and remnants all over the batter, the catcher and the infield.
“Oh my God!” Clare burst out laughing. “He threw a grapefruit!”
The crowd erupted into roars of delight as Griffin pointed at Jackson, who was on second base. People leapt to their feet, cheering, as Jackson took a bow, and then pointed at Griffin, who did the same.
“That’s so funny!” Astrid laughed. “I can’t believe he did that! That was beautiful!”
“That’s hilarious,” Emma said. “We need more of that kind of thing up here.” She grinned at Clare. “Okay the man has my vote. Do him, enjoy him and have a great time. Worry about the future later.”
Clare grinned, her heart dancing with joy and excited nervousness. How could she fear a man who would throw a citrus fruit instead of a softball? “I agree.” And she did. She really did! Terrifying, but oh, so liberating.
Griffin jogged to home plate and high-fived the batter, who was picking grapefruit off his face. They gave a manly hug with some fist pounding on each other’s backs, and then Griffin waved his cap to the still-roaring crowd as he loped back to the mound. He had a shit-eating grin on his face, and held up his glove as the catcher threw another ball to him.
The batter gestured for the ball, and Griffin tossed it to him. The batter looked at it, nodded, then threw it back, apparently satisfied that it was a real ball this time.
“Game on,” the ump shouted.
Clare was still laughing as she pulled another tray of cupcakes out of the box.