Page 24
twenty-one
MIRA
After the Rogues win their second game of the series, I’m lying in bed, waiting for Griffin to call.
Our bed, not the one in my old room. The room I should want to retreat to when Griffin isn’t here, but I don’t.
I love spending my workday there, but I’ve started thinking of it as my office, rather than my bedroom.
Is that crazy?
Who am I kidding? This whole damn situation is crazy.
My third yawn in as many minutes hits just as Griffin’s photo pops up on my phone, and I grin as I hit the green answer button. “Hey there, hotshot. Good game tonight.”
“You watched?” Griffin’s hazel eyes light up. I watch their games whenever I can, so I don’t know why he’s surprised, but the pleasure that’s written all over his features makes my heart do a little arrhythmic thump.
“Course I did, Griffy. You were on fire tonight.”
A goofy grin splits his face as he flops backward onto his hotel bed and tucks an arm behind his head. “I was thinking about my gorgeous wife, and it spurred me on.”
“Griffin…” There’s less heat and hesitation behind the warning than there has been, but despite my changing feelings for Griffin Wright—or maybe because of them—I’m still uncomfortable with him calling me his wife.
I mean, I know that’s what I am legally, but I always thought that word would hold weight and intimate meaning when I had someone in my life who would call me that.
Younger Mira never would have thought I’d end up married after partying in Vegas, and she certainly never would have imagined staying in said marriage for six months because she was basically blackmailed into it.
Is blackmail really the right word? It feels wrong when I consider how Griffin has treated me so far, but when it comes right down to it, there’s really no other term that would be accurate.
“I’m serious, baby. I’ve been on top of my game since I woke up married to you. Even Coach has noticed. I want to make you proud.”
There’s an earnestness in his voice and expression that hits me right in the heart.
Not sure there’s a woman alive who wouldn’t feel some kind of way about a man as sweet, talented, and sexy as Griffin Wright telling them he wants to make her proud.
If he was here, I’d be pulling his dick out and gagging on it.
“I am proud of you,” I tell him softly. Because I know he needs to hear it, but also because it’s true. Ever since the whole Quinoa story debacle, it’s become clear that Griffin hides his insecurities behind smiles and his goofy persona, but they’re there. And they’re loud.
How often do people tell him they’re proud or that they admire him? I hate that I’ve been guilty of overlooking him myself. The man took me in and asked nothing in return, and I took it for granted.
No more.
“You’re amazing, Griffin. I hope you know that.
And I know we’re on different pages about this whole marriage thing, but it’s important to me that you understand how much I admire and value you.
Not only because you’re great at hockey.
But because you’re kind and thoughtful, you’re loyal, selfless, and you care so much about the people in your life.
I’m lucky to have you. So is my brother and everyone else. ”
Griffin stares at me through the phone for a few beats, a hesitant smile twitching at the corners of his lips. “You think I’m amazing?”
“Of course I do.” Rolling my eyes, I level him with a look that says he’s being ridiculous. “You know I do.”
As that smile blooms into something beautiful, my heart skips a beat. “My wife thinks I’m amazing.” He says it more to himself than me, and it sparks warmth throughout my body. It’s a heady sensation, and I change the subject so I don’t have time to ruminate on it.
“Have you heard anything from the mechanic about my car?”
Unfortunately, that question makes Griffin’s smile falter. He runs a hand through his golden hair and winces. “Uh, yeah, I have, actually.”
Well, that doesn’t sound like good news. Not that I’m surprised. Bracing myself, I force the next question out of my mouth. “What’s the damage?”
“My guy told me he can get it back up and running, but that if it was someone he cared about driving the thing, he’d never sleep at night.” Griffin’s lips twist into a displeased grimace. “I know you love that car, but it belongs in a junkyard.”
It does, but I can’t afford to replace it, so I ignore his last statement altogether. “How much will it cost to get it running?”
“Sunshine, it’s not safe.”
I wave a hand in front of the phone. “It’s fine. I’ve driven the thing for years. I know how to handle his temperamental bullshit. Now, just tell me how much I need to pay him.”
Griffin shakes his head, grumbling something about stubborn Graveses and spankings. The latter part has my libido waking up and stretching like a sleepy jungle cat.
“I didn’t get a final figure from him. I’ll find out.” He doesn’t make direct eye contact with me.
“Don’t forget, I want to pay for it, okay? You’ve done enough for me.”
My accidental husband rolls his eyes and grumbles something else before saying, “I’ll have your car brought to the parking garage as soon as it’s ready. Ed will have the keys behind the security desk for you, okay? In the meantime, just keep driving my car.”
My eyes track Griffin’s hand as he starts to unbutton his dress shirt. Distracted, I say, “Kay. Don’t worry, I’m taking great care of Gertie.”
Griffin’s long fingers still, his eyes twinkling as one eyebrow lifts. “Gertie?”
Cheeks heating, I try to act like it’s no big deal that I named his car, even though it’s kind of embarrassing. “Gertie the G-Wagon. It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think? Besides, the poor thing has been nameless for so long.”
Rich, honeyed laughter spills from Griffin’s lips, and god, do I love that sound. His head tips back and his chest shakes, but he never takes his eyes off me. “Oh, sunshine. You’re too fucking cute for words. You know that, right?”
Blushing furiously, I purse my lips as he continues.
“But the G-Wagon already has a name.”
That has me peeking up at him. “It does?”
“Mm-hmm.” The corners of his lips twitch as he fights a smile that does funny things to my tummy. “I call her the G-Spot.”
Silence stretches between us as I blink, owlishly, at the ridiculous name. He can’t be serious, right? Nobody names their car the G-Spot. That’s… That’s absolutely something Griffin would do to make his friends laugh. “You’re joking, right?”
His smile blooms into something so bright, I blink a few times more. “Nope. Totally serious. I can always find the G-Spot.”
I groan, trying not to giggle, because that is so lame, but it’s also the tiniest bit funny. “You’re the worst.”
“You love me,” he says. The words are nonchalant as they spill from his full lips, and I know he doesn’t mean anything by them, but I can’t help noticing the flutter they elicit in my belly and the way they ping around like a pinball in my brain.
I do not love Griffin Wright. I don’t. But I sort of do. Because after all these months of living together, and the way he’s been pursuing me since we got married, Griffin has become my best friend.
The smile slips off my face as the reality of our situation hits me square in the tit.
If things get messy because of this marriage—well, messier than they already are—I could lose my best friend. The person who makes me laugh, who supports my dreams and cheers me on, the person who just gets me.
I don’t want to lose Griffin.
“Sunshine?” Griffin’s concern bleeds through in his tone, which has become soft and careful. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
Do I tell him? Pretend that everything is fine? These are uncharted waters, and I’m worried we’ll drown.
“You’re my best friend,” I blurt out, dropping my chin and letting my hair fall like a curtain around the sides of my face. I don’t know why it feels so vulnerable to admit that to him, but it does, and that makes me want to hide.
“Mira.” Griffin’s voice is soft and my name catches in his throat. “Baby, you’re my best friend too.”
I look up at him through the fringe of my lashes. “I thought my brother is your best friend.”
“He was. Is, I guess. But you’re my best friend too.
They’re just… different. The way I feel about you is so much—” Griffin scrubs a hand through his golden hair, messing it up so the long strands stick up at all angles.
Hazel eyes pin me in place. “How I feel about you is something else. Something more. Does that make sense?”
Does it?
Yeah, it does. And that scares the shit out of me, because, once again, it reinforces that if this marriage implodes, like I’m sure it will, losing him will hurt.
Badly.
Still, I can’t leave him hanging when he’s looking at me so earnestly. So I nod. “Yeah. That makes sense.”
“I want to tell everyone about us,” he says after a moment’s pause. “I hate lying to your brother.”
Panic hits me hard, making my stomach flip.
But this is a different kind of panic. This isn’t the theoretical panic of loss; this is the sure knowledge that my brother will kick his friend’s ass and look at me with those disappointed eyes only an older, protective brother can manage.
The kind of look that makes you feel ten inches tall because you know you could have done better. Should have done better.
I don’t want him to be disappointed in me. And I really don’t want to be the reason his friendship with Griffin is ruined.
“I don’t think…” My words trail off as I shift in our bed, my lower lip rolling between my teeth. “It’s just that Maddox will…”
The sigh that puffs out between Griffin’s lips cuts me to my core, but I don’t finish my thought or take the words back.
“It’s okay, sunshine. Forget I said anything.
We’ll give it some more time.” He sounds so disappointed, but he doesn’t press me further.
We’re both quiet for a minute before he changes the subject and says, “Oh, I almost forgot. I ran into someone today. My former college coach was at the game. We got to talking, and he was telling me all about how the team’s doing.
How they’ve been winning up a storm, and he got the go-ahead to revamp their website and marketing material so they could recruit better players to their program. ”
My heart does a little pitter-patter as Griffin’s multi-hued eyes connect with mine.
“I told him about you. Showed him the work you’ve done for me and some of the other guys. Told him about the site you’re building for that baseball team. He asked for your contact information and if I thought you’d be interested in flying out to Michigan for a meeting to discuss their needs.”
Speechless. I’m stunned speechless. I gape at Griffin, thinking I must have misheard him. “Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack. I thought maybe I could go with you, show you around, introduce you to the coach, and we could make a fun weekend of it.” The man staring out at me through my phone screen is full of vulnerability as he waits for my response.
He searches my eyes, as if he may be able to discern my thoughts and see into my soul. Maybe he can, at least a little.
“Griffin, I don’t know what to say. That’s incredible. It would be huge to redo a college team’s online presence like that.”
“Maybe the football team too,” he says with a smile.
“Oh my god.” I fan my face, suddenly feeling hot and more than a little overwhelmed.
“Yes, I would love to go with you. It would be fun, and having you there would help me not be nervous. The last thing I want to do is ramble and screw up this opportunity. Although people may talk if we take a trip together.”
“You could never screw this up. You’re Mira fucking Wright. You’re a badass. And we’ll find something to tell people so they don’t think twice about us going together.”
I roll my eyes. “For the hundredth time, I’m not changing my last name to Wright.”
My accidental husband shrugs, unbothered. “That’s fine. I’ve been looking into what it would take to change my last name to Graves. It would be a lot of work, but I’m up for it.”
Unable to hold it in, I giggle. “You’re an idiot.”
Griffin smiles brightly. “You don’t really think that. You think I’m awesome.”
I do, he’s right.
I really do.
Table of Contents
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- Page 24 (Reading here)
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