God, she was a fool.
“Yeah.” Griffin walked into the room, left the door open, and pulled up a chair next to the bed.
Not on the bed. He could have sat
on
the bed to get advice from a slightly panicked female who was wearing barely any clothing. But no, he’d pulled up a
chair.
And left the door
open.
And so, the fifteen year drought continued.
With a heavy sigh, Clare flopped back in bed and rolled onto her side to face him. He was in the light from the moon now, and all her disappointment vanished, chased away by her concern for the strain on his face. What was she doing, worrying about sex when Griffin was so stressed?
She touched his arm gently. “I’m so sorry about today with Brooke.” He’d looked absolutely stricken when Brooke had made her request to change her name, and Clare had wanted to hug him and, at the same time, grab Brooke and order her to get over her self-pity.
Katie would have given anything for a father who loved her, no matter how imperfect he was. And Brooke was shutting her dad out. The girl had no idea how lucky she was.
Griffin ran his hand through his hair, spiking it up and erasing the dent from his ball cap. “How do you get Katie to love you?”
Clare was almost tempted to laugh at the absurdity of the question, except that she could tell he was absolutely serious. So, she took a moment to think about his inquiry, and finally gave the only answer that she could come up with. “I love her.”
He made an impatient gesture with his hands. “But what else?”
Her heart softened for his frustration. “That’s it, Griffin. That’s all it takes.”
“No, that’s not right.” He stood up and paced to her window, and Clare rolled onto her other side so she could face him. “There’s something else. There has to be.”
She wished she had better answers for him, but she felt like she was barely hanging on with her own daughter. “I’m not the best mom, Griffin. If you asked Katie, I’m sure she would have a long list of my failings. She hates me sometimes, but she always loves me. Because I love her.”
He leaned on the window frame, staring out at the trees. “I talked to Katie this afternoon, and she’s so mad at you for forcing her to go to MIT, but at the game, I saw her hanging out with you all happy.”
Clare felt the familiar tension at the thought of the ongoing argument with her daughter. “I wish she would just accept MIT. It will be good for her.”
“She hates it, yet you insist on it, and she still loves you.” Griffin faced her, his brow furrowed in concentration, as if enough analysis could give him the magical answers to parenting. “How do you do it? You weren’t here today when she came home so upset, and yet she doesn’t blame you for working instead of being there for her. Why?”
“Wait a second.” Clare held up her hand to stop the conversation. “Katie was upset today? About what?”
Griffin waved his hand dismissively. “Jeremy doesn’t like her, but that’s not the point—”
Clare sat up. “Jeremy kissed her, but doesn’t like her? Was she really upset?”
“Yeah, she was crying, and looking for you, but again, that’s not the point—”
“She was crying?” Guilt coursed through Clare. “So she likes him? My poor girl!” She swung her feet out of bed. “I need to go talk to her. She never told me that tonight. She adores him. How can he do that to her? Why are boys like that? Why do they mess with girls? Why?”
She was almost out the door when Griffin caught her arm. “Clare.”
“What?” She tried to pull herself away, but his grip was unyielding. Dammit. There were times when a strong man was just not convenient. “I need to go talk to her.”
“She’s okay, now.” He shut the door firmly, blocking her exit. “Don’t wake her up. Let her sleep.”
“But—”
“We talked about it,” he said as he flipped the lock on the door. “She’s fine.”
“Really? Are you so sure about that?” Clare eyed him, trying to figure out the best way to duck around him and make it to Katie’s room before he could stop her. “Exactly how fine is fine?”
He gave her an amused look. “Well, you saw her all afternoon, during the water fight and at the game. How did she look to you?”
“Um...” Clare thought back to the mischievous grin on her daughter’s face when she’d dumped the water on her, and her delighted skip as she’d raced across the field at the game. “Well, good, I guess,” she acknowledged reluctantly. “Happy, even.”
“See? She’s fine. Now about Brooke—”
“Yeah, okay, maybe she’s all right.” Clare studied Griffin with new interest. “What did you say to her?” Heaven knew it wasn’t easy to take Katie from tears to joy.
He shrugged impatiently, as if what he’d said was of little importance. “That she was beautiful and that Jeremy is like the rest of us males, and he’s too afraid to make a move, but he’s silently pining for her. I told her that whenever she looked at him, she should just remember that he thinks she’s gorgeous, which is why he kissed her in the first place, but that he’s too pathetic to make a move. Stuff like that.”
“Oh.” Clare’s heart loosened. That was a good message. “And she believed you?”
“Yeah.” Griffin grinned. “I think my explanation of the male stupidity had clout since I’m a male, too.”
“She always argues with me when I tell her she’s beautiful,” Clare mused. “She says that I’m her mom so I have to say that.” She smiled. “But she believed you because you don’t owe her anything.”
Griffin smiled, and he looked pleased. “She is beautiful.”
“I know.” Clare patted Griffin’s cheek, her tension about Katie’s well-being fading into appreciation for the fact that Griffin had been there to take care of the situation. “See? You have what it takes to be a good dad. Pulling a teenage girl out of boy-tears is not an easy task.”
His smile faded. “I got lucky.”
“You don’t get lucky when it comes to tears. You have to be good.” Her bare feet were getting cold from standing on the wood, so Clare walked over to her bed and perched on the edge of it, tucking her feet beneath her. “You did good, Griffin. And thank you.” She managed a smile, though she still felt bad about not being home when Katie needed her. “It alleviates my guilt of not being here to help her.”
Griffin rubbed his jaw, and she could see him contemplating. After a moment he came and sat beside her, the mattress dipping under his weight. “Here’s the thing I don’t get,” he said. “You were at work and not here for her, and yet she wasn’t mad at you for it. She didn’t care that I was the one she had to talk to. How do you swing that?”
Clare hugged her arms to ward off the chill coming from her open window. The spring warmth of earlier in the day had faded, and the night was too chilly for a camisole unless she was under the covers or baking in the kitchen. “I guess it’s what I said before. She knows I love her.”
“That’s it?” Griffin looked frustrated again. “It can’t be that simple. Brooke knows how I feel about her.”
Clare rubbed her arms, thinking back to the discussion by the ice cream truck. “How do you feel about her?”
“She’s my daughter. I want her back.”
“Do you love her?”
Griffin glared at her. “Of course I do.”
She smiled at his intensity. Yes, of course this man loved his daughter. It was so obvious. “Then let her see it, and that will be enough.”
“By giving a bottle to a baby? Is that what it takes to be a good guy?”
Clare laughed. “No, you goof. By actually telling her that you love her, and by showing her that you see her as her own person and appreciate who she is becoming. Show her that you love her without conditions, without limits and without judgments.”
Griffin looked frustrated. “That doesn’t make sense. How do I do that?”
“You’ll figure it out. It will come with time.” Sensing his tension, Clare scooted behind him and began to rub his shoulders. His muscles were taut, stretched to their limits across his broad back. “Here’s the thing with girls. You can’t mold them, and you can’t force them. You have to give them space to grow and respond.”
“I’m not patient.” Griffin bowed his head, resting his forearms on his thighs, accepting her touch.
Clare laughed. “Really? I never would have guessed it.” She found a knot by his right shoulder blade and dug in, trying to loosen it. “Your muscles are a lot tougher to loosen than Katie’s.”
“I would hope so,” he grunted.
“Such a male comment. If you were a woman, you’d be apologizing for hurting my fingers with your beefcake back,” she teased.
“Yeah?” He turned around to face her, sliding out of her grasp. “As opposed to a man who would take your sore fingers and massage them until you forgot about the pain.” His eyes hooded and dark, he lifted her hand and began to rub her fingers, one by one, inch by inch.
Um...yeah. How good did that feel? “I wasn’t actually sore yet,” she said.
“Good.” He dug his fingers into her palm, loosening the tension. “I wouldn’t be much of a man if I let you get hurt taking care of me.”
Clare swallowed, viscerally aware of the fact they were both on her bed now, and they weren’t talking about kids anymore. “So, anyway,” she said, her voice wavering slightly. “As I said at the game, now that Brooke has seen this more human side of you, she won’t forget it. She’ll start to wonder if there’s a chance you could be the dad she wants, and she’ll need to know more. You’re on the right path.”
Griffin said nothing for a moment, and the only sound was their breathing as he worked his fingers up her forearm.
“I envy your relationship with Katie,” he finally said.
Clare smiled. “Thank you.”
“I never saw the beauty in Hillary and Brooke’s connection, but I feel it in yours.” He was up to her biceps now, his wrist dangerously close to her breast.
“Um...” She couldn’t really focus on his words anymore. Should she stop him? Had he even noticed he was encroaching on her breasts? Or was it just some absent movement while he thought about kids and—
He caught her chin suddenly, turned her face towards his. “You bring out a side in me I’ve never seen before.”
Oh...he had that look on his face. The intense, dark look that made her toes curl up and her heart start to hammer way too fast. “That’s good?”
“Yeah.” He rubbed his thumb over her lower lip. “You make me think there’s a chance I could be a better guy than everyone else thinks I am.” He smiled. “Thank you for that gift, Clare Gray.”
“You’re welcome,” she whispered. “You are a good man.”
“I know you think so.” And then he bent his head and kissed her.
* * *
Clare went utterly still at the feel of Griffin’s lips on hers. The kiss was tender and gentle, not scary, not demanding. He lightly cupped the back of her head, his grip warm but loose, giving her space to get away.
But she didn’t believe it. He was a man. She was a woman. They were in her bed. He would make his move at any moment. What should she do? She hadn’t
really
decided yet whether or not to sleep with him. She had to know now, because he was going to make his move. Ack!
But he kept kissing her the same way. One hand still gently sifting her hair. The other braced on the bed by her hip. He wasn’t trying anything more. Just kissing.
Slowly, she began to relax. She allowed herself to notice the softness of his lips, the prickle of his whiskers against her skin, the taste of chocolate on his tongue. “You ate the cupcake,” she whispered.
“Of course I did.” He laid his hand on the side of her neck and nibbled on the corner of her mouth. “It’s like eating heaven.”
She smiled beneath his kiss. “Thank you.”
“No, thank you.” He kissed her again, and she kissed him back with a little more confidence.
Anticipation began to build inside her, unfurling deep in her belly, and she tentatively placed her hand on his shoulder. His muscles flexed beneath her hand, the rough cotton of his tee shirt a flimsy barrier between them. Heat rose from his skin, and she felt the power harnessed so thoroughly in his strong frame.
He deepened the kiss, coaxing her lips apart, and when she acquiesced, his grip tightened in her hair, holding her to him as he kissed her.
Slowly, he began to ease her back onto the bed, still kissing her. She gripped his shoulders, allowing him to move her, even as she trembled with nervousness and excitement. The moment her head hit the pillow, he pulled back, studying her intently.
She swallowed, her skin prickling with awareness.
Then, without asking permission or checking in with her, he sat up, grabbed his tee shirt and hauled it over his head. She could barely suppress a little squeal as she caught her first real look at his body.
His chest was lightly covered in dark hair, his muscles strong, and his belly flat. Dark nipples blended with his skin, and his sweats were low across his hips. His biceps were flexed, and she could see the strength even in his sinewy forearms.
Griffin was solid male, pure strength, absolute masculinity. Not a boy, like Ed had been. Griffin was a man.
“It’s been a long time since—” She hesitated.
He smiled, the kind of possessive predatory expression that made her whole body clench. “I know.”
“Am I that obvious?” Was there something she was supposed to be doing that she wasn’t? She really hadn’t made love that many times with Ed before he’d died. “I’m sorry—”
“No.” He kicked off his shoes, then stretched out beside her, and placed his palm on her belly. “You’re beautiful.”
She watched his hand rise and fall as she breathed. The intimacy was incredible. That quiet touch below her belly button. Not going for the gold. Just connecting in a way that only lovers who were at peace with each other would take the time to do. “I’m nervous.”
“I know.” He kissed her gently, continuing the kiss until she finally began to kiss him back. “You can touch me,” he whispered. “Anywhere you want.”
She managed a jittery laugh. “I don’t know—”
“I do.” He took her hand and placed it on his chest. “Like that.”
She tangled her fingers in the dark hairs. She could feel the striations of his muscles beneath her hand.
Griffin said nothing. He asked for nothing. He just waited, allowing her to touch him however she wanted.