Page 11

CHAPTER 11

CHRISTINE

T he hum of the dishwasher and the sound Griffin putting things away are the only sounds in the kitchen. Leaning over the sink, I take out my aggravation by scrubbing at the stubborn stain on a white platter. I’m still a little annoyed at how he treated me like a child who needed supervision, but I’m trying to let it go. Holding on to anger isn’t really my thing. It takes too much energy and it accomplishes nothing. And he did apologize, after all.

Glancing at the wall clock, I notice it’s after two in the morning, which is way past my bedtime—unless I’m reading and can’t put my book down.

Griffin wanders over and leans against the edge of the counter as I’m drying the platter. “Thank you for helping me clean up. I appreciate it more than I can say.”

“You’re welcome. I didn’t feel right about leaving all this work for you.” I place the platter in a cabinet and then hang the towel on a drawer handle. It feels strange to be alone with him after the house was filled with guests for hours.

“Did you have fun tonight?” he asks.

I nod. “Yeah, I did. Your friends are nice.”

“You seemed to hit it off with Scarlett and Autumn.”

“They didn’t really give me a choice; I was swept along in their current.” I smile. “But they’re pretty great.” I grab a bottle of cleaner and spray down the island.

“Rogan and Cooper sure think they are. I’ve spent a good amount of time with both ladies over the past few months, and I only have good things to say about them. What did you think of River?”

I tear a couple paper towels from the roll and wipe down the granite. “He seemed nice.”

“Just nice?” he presses.

I turn away from the island, facing him. “Yeah. Why?”

He shrugs. “No reason.”

“Are you sure? He’s the only guy you asked me about. Is he an asshole I need to be careful around?”

“No, not at all. He’s a great guy. You two looked like you were hitting it off.”

“He was polite and friendly, but I didn’t get a romantic vibe from him.”

He takes a few steps, stopping in front of me. His brow is furrowed, as if he’s concerned. “Was that upsetting for you?”

“No. I’m here for grad school, not to meet a guy.”

His brown eyes have an intensity I’ve never noticed before. “That doesn’t mean you can’t also date.”

“School is my priority, and that’s the way it needs to be.”

He nods, raking his fingers through his hair, reminding me how attractive he is. The short beard covering his jaw tempts my fingertips with the urge to touch it. Is it coarse or soft? His rolled-up sleeves expose his corded, muscular forearms, reminding me how strong he is. My gaze moves upward, connecting with his dark stare, and the air between us shifts, making it difficult to draw in my next breath.

He reaches out, brushing a lock of hair from my brow, tucking it behind my ear. I feel the effect of his simple touch in a place I shouldn’t, and pray my expression doesn’t give away my secret. “I can finish the rest by myself,” he says, his voice low.

“I… uh… okay.” I take a step back and see a flicker of disappointment flash across his face. “I’m gonna head to my room.”

He nods. “Good night, Christine.”

“Night.” Turning, I walk off without looking back, but I feel the weight of his gaze long after I’m back in my bedroom.

I toss and turn as I lie in my bed, unable to get comfortable. But the root of my restlessness has more to do with my conflicting thoughts than any physical discomfort. This mattress is like sleeping on a cloud, and much better than the one I have back in North Carolina. When I’ve finally had enough, I reach for my phone on the nightstand and pull up my text chain with Nelson. It’s well after three in the morning but Nelson is a gamer and keeps vampire hours—even on New Year’s morning.

Me: Happy New Year!

Nelson: Better late than never.

Me: Hey! You didn’t text me either.

Nelson: I was at a party. What’s your excuse?

Me: Ha! I’ll have you know, I was at a party too.

Nelson: I’m impressed and proud of you.

Me: Thank you. And now I actually need your expertise.

Nelson: You must be desperate if you’re admitting I’m an expert on anything.

His reply brings a smile to my lips. I’m about to type a retort when another text comes through.

Nelson: Call me.

He’s right. This is worthy of a phone call, and he immediately answers.

“This is Nelson, life expert extraordinaire.”

I laugh. “Okay, don’t let it go to your head, though.”

“Too late. I’ve already noted it on my calendar so I can always remember this momentous occasion.”

I sigh loudly. “I’m already regretting contacting you.”

He chuckles. “Okay, I’ll listen now. What happened?”

“Griffin had a party and a bunch of people came.”

“Silverbacks players?” he asks.

“Yep.”

He growls. “You suck. I’m so fucking jealous right now.”

“I met a hockey player too. River something or other.”

“River Hawthorne?”

“Yeah, how do you know?”

“He’s only one of the most talented rookies in the league.”

“Huh. I had no idea.”

“Life is fucking unfair,” he says, sighing, and I imagine him shaking his head.

“You can be depressed later.”

“Fair enough.”

“Anyway. Griffin”— I speak softly so I won’t be overheard—“pulled some weird overprotective brother crap that annoyed me. But that’s not the strangest part. After the party, the two of us were cleaning up and there was this weird moment between us.” I pause, trying to figure out the best way to describe what happened.

“And?”

“He asked me about River, and it seemed like he was jealous. Then he brushed my hair back and tucked it behind my ear.”

“What else?”

“Nothing, really. But there was this feeling between us. Like sexual tension or attraction.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah. What do you think it means?”

“I don’t know.”

“Take a guess.”

“I wasn’t there.”

“Yeah, but you’re a guy. Shouldn’t you know what it means?”

“Christine, there isn’t any handbook men reference for things to say to the opposite sex.”

“Just give me your best guess.”

“What were you wearing?”

“Black jeans and a purple sweater.”

“A potato sack sweater or one that fits?”

“Fuck you and your potato sack comment. It was a fitted sweater.”

“Maybe he was taken aback by how good you looked and got caught up in the moment.”

“I guess that’s possible.”

“I think it’s great you went to the party.”

“Two of the players’ girlfriends pretty much dragged me downstairs, but I’m glad they did. Now I know I can hold my own speaking to professional athletes.”

“Next time FaceTime me, for fuck’s sake.”

I laugh. “Yeah, I’ll just pull out my phone and wander around the room until everyone says hi to you.”

“Perfect.”

“I’m being facetious.”

“You’re not being very nice to me, but I’ll forgive you if you promise I can meet them when I come visit.”

“You’ll definitely meet Griffin, and I’ll see what I can do about the rest.”

“That works.”

“I better go to bed now. Thanks for the talk.”

“No problem. Wish I had more insight to offer, but you didn’t give me much to go on.”

Which is ironic since it felt monumental to me.

Griffin is away from the house all day, so I take advantage and wash my sheets. I also vacuum the downstairs and clean the bathroom the guests used since I know Griffin didn’t have a chance to do that last night. When he arrives home, I’m in the kitchen cooking dinner. I hear the door close and his keys get tossed onto the table. A minute or so later he appears in the doorway.

“Hey,” I say, stirring the pasta in the pot.

“What’s up?” He opens the fridge, grabs a bottle of water, and downs half the contents in one continuous gulp.

“You look like you had a rough day.”

He nods. “It was.”

“How did you wake up on time when you got to bed so late?”

“It wasn’t easy, but the thought of getting chewed out by Coach Chubb was enough to have me jumping from my bed.”

“Your coach is tough?”

A choked laugh slips from him. “Oh yeah. Especially if we give him a reason to bust our asses.”

“I would hate that. I don’t like being reprimanded or yelled at by anyone. Not even my mom or dad.”

“You seem like a rule follower, for sure.”

“You make that sound like a bad thing.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not at all. I think it’s cute how pristine you are.”

“Pristine? I’m not that innocent.”

“Don’t get offended. I meant it in the nicest way.”

“Just because I’m quiet, people automatically assume I’m angelic and don’t have flaws.”

“I never said you were flawless.” My head snaps in his direction, finding him grinning, which instantly deflates my rising temper. “I think it’s nice that you’re so focused on your schooling. Even though you haven’t begun classes yet. You could be out partying it up while you have the chance.”

I shrug, giving the penne another stir. “Last night I did.”

“Good point. But it was New Year’s Eve, so I’m not counting it.”

“You and I are different in a lot of ways, but when it comes to what’s important to us, we’re a lot alike. You pointed out my focus but you couldn’t have made it to the level you’ve reached without loving what you do and having tunnel-vision focus.”

“That’s true.”

Turning off the burner, I carry the pot over to the sink and dump the boiling pasta into the strainer. “I hope you’re hungry. I made a lot.”

“Are you kidding? I’m fucking starving. What can I do to help?”

“Not a thing. I already have the leftover meatballs warming on the stove, and I made a salad.” After the pasta is rinsed and strained, I dump it into a large glass bowl and set it on the island next to the salad. Returning to the stove, I add a large spoon to the pan with the meatballs and sauce. “Dig in.”

“Let me wash my hands first,” he says, moving over to the sink.

“Are you a germaphobe?”

He laughs, scrubbing his hands together and then rinsing the soap away. “Not really. But my mom always stressed the importance of washing my hands whenever I came home, so it’s something I automatically do.” He shuts off the water and dries his hands on a towel.

“That’s kind of sweet. I bet your mom knows and is proud that you do.”

“I hope so. I like to think she’s watching over me.”

I grab two plates, passing one to him. “Go ahead.”

“No, ladies first.”

“You worked up an appetite,” I point out.

“And you cooked.” He waves his hand for me to precede him.

“Thanks.” I dish everything out as quickly as possible, then grab a water from the fridge before settling on a stool at the island. Sending covert glances his way, I watch him pile food on his plate like it’s the last meal he’ll ever have.

He notices my attention, shrugging. “I need to eat a lot to replenish the calories I burned off at practice.”

“This is all I’m having. The rest is yours.” I spear some penne with my fork and shove it between my lips.

“I can’t eat that much, but I’ll definitely be having this for dinner tomorrow night too.” He joins me at the island, sliding onto the stool next to mine. He takes a bite of pasta and meatball together, and hums with pleasure. “This is delicious. Thank you for cooking tonight. I was looking at another night of takeout, and I wasn’t happy.”

“You’re welcome.” I drink some water, and when I place the bottle down, a thought hits me. “I just had an idea. Since you’re letting me stay here free of charge and I don’t feel right about it, I’ll cook dinner for you every night.”

His eyes widen, exposing the white area around his irises. “Really?”

“Yeah. I actually like cooking, and back in North Carolina I took care of making dinner for my mom and me since she was working all day.”

“I think that’s a great idea, but if you find school is taking up more time than you anticipated, I want you to tell me.”

“Okay. I’ll agree to that.”

He stretches his right hand out toward me and I press my palm to his, and we shake on our new arrangement. “Also, if you fill me in on what you need each week, I’ll order the groceries.”

My nose wrinkles. “I don’t want you paying for mine, though.”

“It makes sense that I would. You eat a fraction of what I do. Besides, you’re doing the hard part for me.”

“Okay… for now. But I reserve the right to change my mind at a later date.”

“Noted.” He shovels bite after bite between his lips at an alarming pace. Once his plate is clear, he goes back for seconds, then rejoins me. “Have you spoken to your mom or my dad since they left?”

“I spoke to my mom last night before the party. She said they’re doing well. Why?”

“I’m not the best when it comes to keeping in touch with people during football season.”

“I’m sure your dad is used to that. You’ve been playing ball for a while, right?”

“This is my fourth year with the Silverbacks.”

“Then why would he expect anything different?”

“I don’t know… I guess sometimes I feel like a bad son for not being closer to him.”

“I didn’t get that impression at all. You were helpful and communicative with him and also with my mom. We showed up unannounced and you didn’t even get upset. I was half expecting you to tell us to get a hotel room and close the door in our faces.”

He laughs. “I may be an adult but my dad would kick my ass if I did that, and it’s not like I don’t have the space. I’ll even go so far as to admit that it was nice having family here for Christmas.”

“Maybe this year was the start of that tradition for you.”

He nods. “That would be nice.”

I leave the stool and walk around the island to the sink. Rinsing my plate and silverware, I place them in the dishwasher. “Are you done with all this?” I point to the leftovers.

“Yep. Two heaping platefuls is enough,” he tells me, cutting a meatball in half with his fork.

I get busy putting the food in plastic containers and stacking them inside the fridge. I rinse the empty bowl and pan and add them to the dishwasher. “I usually don’t eat dessert but I’m in the mood for something good. Were there any sweets leftover from last night?”

“Yep. I put everything in the pantry.” He moves around the island and loads his stuff in the dishwasher before joining me as I look for some cake or cookies. “Don’t move,” he tells me. I feel his chest brush against my back as he reaches above my head, grabbing a plastic container with chocolate chip cookies inside. “Jackpot.” He removes the cover, offering me first pick.

Reaching in, I grab one. “Yes! You just made my night.”

“I thought eating dinner together already did that.” He grins.

“Oh, no doubt I’ll be remembering eating pasta and meatballs with you long after I’ve moved out.”

He takes a cookie for himself, setting the container on the counter. “I know your plan is to live here until school finishes in May, but you’re welcome to stay as long as you like.”

“That’s nice of you to offer, but I think at some point you’re going to tire of me being in your space. What if you want to have a date over?” As soon as the words pass through my lips, I want to yank them back.

“I don’t really date.”

“How is that possible?”

“Do you date?”

“No. Well, not right now. But I will… someday.”

“I’m not saying I haven’t dated in the past. I have and will again, but right now, not dating is what’s working best for me.”

“What about…?” I trail off.

He finishes the rest of his cookie, swallows, and raises one thick eyebrow. “Sex?” His voice deepens to a gravelly husk.

“Uh huh.”

“I’m not a monk. I’ve had my fair share, but I’ve reached a point where focusing on myself and my career is what matters most. Sex is great, but I don’t need a woman to get off.”

I choke on the piece of cookie in my mouth, and he notices. His chuckle follows me as I grab my water from the island. The bottle crinkles as I down the remainder, and when I turn around, Griffin’s lips are curved with humor as he studies me.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Cookie crumbs went down wrong.”

“Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to shock you.” His apology would ring a lot truer if he weren’t smirking.

I roll my eyes. “Sure you didn’t.”

He laughs. “Okay, maybe I wanted to see how Little Miss Pristine would react.”

“Oh my God, enough with that dumb nickname.”

“What? It’s cute and sweet, like you.”

“Ugh. I despise the word ‘cute’ even more than ‘pristine.’ It’s the quintessential adjective for someone short.”

“But you are cute. Is adorable less offensive?”

“No.” I scowl. “Babies and puppies are adorable.”

“What adjectives do you like?”

“Intelligent, witty, kind, to name a few.”

“You’re all of those things, but that doesn’t mean you’re not also cute. How about beautiful? Is that offensive too?”

I shake my head. “No. But it doesn’t apply in this situation.”

His brows press together. “What do you mean?”

“That’s not a word I’ve heard anyone besides my mom use to describe me.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

“I have perfect eyesight and a lifetime of looking in the mirror. I’m average in appearance at best.”

He steps forward and wraps his large hands around my upper arms, holding me in place. “Look at me,” he urges softly. My gaze scrolls upward from his chest, and my head tips back as I meet his serious expression. “We’ve only known each other for a couple of weeks, but average is not a word I’d use to describe you. You’re intelligent, witty, and kind, but you’re also beautiful inside and out . If you can’t see that, your eyesight might not be as perfect as you think.” His hands slide down my bare arms to my wrists, giving a gentle squeeze before he lets go. I watch him walk from the kitchen, rubbing the goose bumps brought on by his touch. I replay his words in my mind. “You’re intelligent, witty, and kind, but you’re also beautiful inside and out .” And for the first time, I feel like I am.