Page 4 of Griffin (Stone Brothers #5)

FOUR

SHAY

I t seemed I'd had the full parade of workers walk through the trailer to introduce themselves.

I joked to a few that I might need them to wear name tags until I memorized names.

There was one name I already knew by heart.

Colt's son, Griffin, had stopped by during his break to check how things were going and to ask if my pencils were cooperating.

He had this sort of sigh-worthy quality about him—kindness mixed with hotness was always a refreshing combination, and rare.

In fact, kindness was scarce all around these days, but it seemed I'd found a good job.

I'd really gotten lucky, and luck wasn't something that landed in my lap often.

Colt stopped in the office. It was easy to see where Griffin got his looks. The two of them were nearly twins. "Some of us are making a run to Meg's Burgers. It's a little mom and pop place down the road. Are you interested in a burger? My treat."

"That's kind of you to offer, but I brought a lunch." I thought about my yogurt and banana lunch, and my stomach reached up and tapped my brain saying, "take the burger … please." I tamped down the idea.

"All right. If you're sure." Colt left and I walked to the small office refrigerator for my yogurt. I sat at the table and decided a blueberry scone might be the perfect dipper in lemon yogurt. That way the lunch wouldn't be a total disappointment.

I'd just settled into the chair with my scone and yogurt when my phone rang.

I jolted at the sound because it rarely rang.

Most of my friends vanished a few years after I married Tate.

They wanted nothing more to do with me, and I couldn't blame them.

I returned to the desk. It was him . My stomach tightened as if I was picking up a call from the doctor who was surely going to give me terrible news.

"Hello," I said, forcing an airy tone.

"Hey, hon, did you get my text?" I hated the sound of his voice, even when he wasn't being an asshole, mostly because I knew asshole Tate was just around the corner waiting to pop out.

"Yes, I'm sorry I didn't write back. I was busy. I started the new job today. It's really?—"

"What new job?" His tone sharpened.

"I told you about it. I'm office manager for a construction company. I think I'm really going to like it here."

"You never mentioned it."

"I did." I released a frustrated sigh. There was no sense in arguing because in his rock-hard head he was never wrong. "Anyway, it seems like a cool?—"

"How much?" he barked.

"How much?"

"Your fucking pay, dimwit. What else would I mean?" I went from hon to dimwit in a few short sentences. I actually preferred him acting like this because the other act was incredibly cringey.

"Twenty-five an hour and health insurance," I said proudly. I'd left behind thirty dollars an hour and four weeks' vacation, but I considered it a great starting salary.

He laughed. "What a fucking joke. Well, I guess since you're basically a novice at everything?—"

"I know my way around an office, Tate." It was much easier to respond sharply when he was far away in his truck and not within arm's distance where his fist could shoot out without warning.

"Yeah, whatever, but clearly the boss didn't think enough of you to pay a better salary."

My eyes started to ache, but I blinked fast to keep away tears. "I was glad to find a decent job. Remember, you're the reason we had to leave Parkhurst." I was feeling exceptionally brave because we were on the phone, but I was going to regret the conversation once he got back home.

The silence on his end was terrifying. "Only men working there?" he finally asked. His tone was so cold I felt a chill through the phone.

"What?" His icy tone had thrown me off balance. "Working where?"

"At the fucking circus, idiot, where do you think I mean?"

"Here, yes, I suppose so. It's a construction site.

" My voice wavered as I spoke, and I hated that because he knew that once again he'd broken me.

I'd planned to leave him many times, but that was almost scarier than staying with him.

Tate had assured me more than once that leaving him wasn't an option.

He was gone for more than half the year, so I had half a life where I was free and smiling and generally happy.

"Then start looking for another job. You're not working for a bunch of horny construction workers."

"There aren't that many jobs available, not ones that pay well and have health insurance."

His laugh was pure evil. "That is not good pay.

Look for another job, or I'll find you one when I get back.

" He hung up, and the tears started to flow.

Suddenly, my yogurt-scone combo didn't look so appealing.

I pushed the yogurt aside and slumped back against the chair.

Instead of a congratulations on my first day at a new job, my husband was telling me to quit and find something with more money and less men.

It was especially hard to swallow knowing that he'd come home more than once with another woman's perfume or lipstick on his shirt.

The first time it happened, I cried and yelled and had a general meltdown, but slowly, I realized I didn't give a damn what he did on his trucking jobs.

As long as he was miles away from me, he could screw every woman in every dive bar from here to fucking eternity.

I figured I might get lucky one day and some jealous boyfriend or husband would come after him with a hunting rifle and put a bullet in his head.

The door opened. I was sure the site was empty for lunch. I quickly wiped away the tears, sat up straighter and reached for my yogurt.

"Didn't mean to interrupt your lunch." How pathetic was I? I already recognized his voice. It was deep and smooth like everything else about him. "I left a slice of pizza in Dad's fridge. Wanted to see if it was still edible."

I opened the top on the yogurt. "How come you aren't off eating burgers with the rest of 'em?" I asked.

"Trying to save money." His work boots stomped the thin trailer floor behind me, and I actually felt my pulse speed up. "Mind if I sit?" he asked.

I waved at the empty chair. "Please. But no judgement when I dip a blueberry scone into my lemon yogurt."

Griffin's shoulders strained the fabric on his work shirt. There was a smudge of dirt on his face that I badly wanted to wipe away with my thumb, but I resisted. "Hey, you're talking to a guy who dips his fries in maple syrup. Not all the time but when the urge hits me."

I took a bite of scone and peered up to think about the combo. "You know? Not a bad idea. Don't think I'd make a habit of it, but I always say live dangerously when fries are involved."

He chuckled. "That's one of your life's philosophies, is it?"

"One of many," I said and turned toward him with a smile.

His own smile faded. "Anything the matter? Were you crying? I wasn't eavesdropping, but I heard you talking as I walked past the window. Anything I can do?"

Yes, carry me away on your white horse, I thought dreamily.

"Uh, no." I wiped clumsily at my face, but my eyes no doubt gave it away.

"My husband's grandmother's cat had to be put down today.

Charlie was a really neat cat." Living with Tate had made me an incredible liar.

Tear stains were always the easiest to explain away.

Bruises, cuts and pain were much harder.

"Oh wow, sad to hear. Was he old?" Griffin pulled a leathery looking slice of pizza from a baggie.

"Who?" I asked. I was good at coming up with the initial lie.

Not as good when follow-up questions were asked.

"Oh, you mean Charlie." I nodded. "Nineteen.

Not sure what that is in cat years, but I think he might have been around for Paul Revere's ride.

What are you saving for?" I was also a skilled topic changer, a necessity in my chaotic life.

"Let me guess. An engagement ring?" Yes, I was fishing, but a girl could dream.

The question made him blush lightly. "Nope. Not a ring. I rent a house with my two cousins, Theo and Crusoe, and let's just say, it's getting old. Love those guys but I need a place of my own."

"I know the feeling," I said absently and then pressed my fingers to my lips.

"Oops, that came out, didn't it? Of course, I have a place of my own—with my husband," I explained awkwardly.

"We're renting a house a few miles inland from the coast. It's crummy and needs paint and there's a disgusting tobacco smell through the whole place, but I'm slowly making it a home.

" I thought the last part was a nice touch to make up for the first part.

"That pizza looks very sad, by the way, and that is coming from a woman who is dipping a scone in yogurt.

" This time my subject change didn't work.

"It's not bad though," he said finishing a bite. "What does your husband do? If you don't mind me asking."

"He drives an eighteen-wheeler. He's in the Midwest right now, heading home in a few days.

" The last part made my throat dry up. My face must have shown my distress, too, and Griffin noticed.

A man who actually noticed when you were upset, I wasn't used to that.

The look of concern on his handsome face made my throat tighten.

I had to act quickly before tears started again.

I waved my hand in front of my face. "Just can't stop thinking about Charlie.

" I realized then how much I hated lying to him.

There was something so real, so genuine about him.

"I'm really sorry about the cat. I'm sure if he lived nineteen years he had a great life."

I nodded and stared down at my yogurt far too intensely.

I was embarrassed about the whole damn story.

What I really wanted to do was scream out that I hated my husband so much that it made me physically ill to know he was coming home soon.

But I kept it to myself, like always. I wasn't just ashamed of lying.

I was ashamed that I'd never mustered enough courage or independence to leave the man I hated.

Griffin's phone vibrated. He pulled it out of his shirt pocket. He texted something back and put the phone away.

"My cousin, Jaxon, wants me to join him at his mom's place for beer after work. Hey, have you been to the Lazy Daze? My Aunt Amy owns it. Occasionally, she gets in some cool bands, and the house beer is good."

I shook my head. "My visit to the pier this morning was my first big adventure past my little neighborhood."

"You should go sometime," he said enthusiastically and then tamped it down with a rounder posture. "I mean, you and your husband should give it a try."

If there was one thing worse than Tate Kennedy, it was Tate Kennedy after too many beers. I forced a smile. "Thanks, maybe we'll try it one night."

Trucks started rolling back up to the site. Griffin stretched up to see out of the small side window. "Looks like the boss has had his share of burgers. I'd better get back to work."

He'd hardly eaten any of the dry pizza slice. "How is a guy your size going to make it through the rest of the day on a few bites of stale pizza?" I asked.

He shrugged and took a scone. "A maple scone ought to get the blood sugar pumping. It was nice talking to you, and really, you guys should try Lazy Daze. It's a cool place."

"It's sweet how you spread the word about your aunt's business. Sounds like you have a big and amazing family."

Griffin's face lit up at the mention of his family. He was truly what Holly, my best friend in high school, would have called a 10 to the tenth power. "Big? Yes. Amazing?" He turned up his green eyes in thought. "Most of the time. See ya."

I watched him walk out, and there was an instant ache in my chest. It was hard knowing there were men like Griffin Stone in the world when I was stuck with a man like Tate Kennedy.