Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
MARLEY
What the hell am I doing?
Why couldn’t I make him leave?
Instead of forcing him to go, I put his shirt on and made my way out of my room to the kitchen. If I was going to have to talk, without that much sleep, I needed coffee. Lots of coffee and substances.
Without a word, I prep my coffee, grab two slices of toast, and put them in the toaster before looking at Griz.
Damnit, all to hell. Why does he have to be so unbelievably good-looking?
“Do you want toast?”
Of course, I have to be polite and ask him. My mom would have a conniption if she found out I had a guest, no matter the reasons why, and didn’t offer something to eat or drink.
“Yeah, sweets, I’ll take some toast.” The grin that slides into place on his lips causes me to clench my thighs together. It’s a good thing his shirt falls to my knees.
Rolling my eyes, I snatch out two more slices of bread. “Grab the butter and strawberry jam from the frig.” If he’s going to be here, he can at least help.
“Strawberry jam? What’s wrong with grape?” he asks, sounding more than a bit amused.
“Yes, strawberry jam. It’s homemade, thank you very much. And for the record, I don’t like grapes unless they are green ones. They’re way better. Plus, strawberry tastes better no matter what,” I inform him while taking the two slices already finished out of the toaster.
Sliding the other two slices in, I twist to him as he sets the butter and jam on the counter. “Do you have a problem with strawberry jam?”
Okay, so it comes out a bit snappish, but I’m coming out of my sex-induced fog that hazed over all my brain functions, and I need to eat. Having not done that and not having caffeine, now that’s a problem, and he doesn’t want to deal with me. I’ve been told I could be a real bitch in the morning without my needs being met.
“No problem with it, sweets, but gotta say my preference is to the grape.” He chuckles and comes toward me, wrapping his arms around my waist. “Still doesn’t matter. To me, I’ve found something that I like a whole lot more.”
Well, okay, then.
It’s all I can do to ignore the feeling those words cause inside me. There’s no denying it, though. I like the way they make me feel.
In the process of ignoring this, I slather the butter and jam on both slices already out and set them on one of the little plates I use for breakfast toast in the morning. The plates are cute and little saucers, I just don’t see the point in putting them in the cabinet. They’re just the perfect size, and I like having them on display.
Sliding the plate toward Griz, I nod to it. “Go ahead and take these two. I’ll get the other two.”
The toaster pops up, and I quickly slather both pieces and take a bite while pouring a cup of coffee for myself. I set the pot down next to Griz. He could fix his own.
I barely move away before Griz hooks me around my stomach and pulls me close once again.
“You don’t have to hold onto me,” I say, pointing out the obvious, and he doesn’t seem to care.
“Know that.”
That’s all he says, fingers flexing at my stomach, and he fixes his cup of coffee. Like me, I notice he drinks it black. No cream, sugar, or milk.
I don’t speak another word to him until I’ve eaten both slices of toast, and I pour myself a second cup. Griz releases me, takes both plates to my sink across the kitchen, turns the water on, and surprises me further when he rinses both plates off.
Wow. A man who actually knows how to at least rinse. This is fine with me, but I would have washed it and put it in the strainer. Since it’s just me, I don’t ever have a lot of dishes, so there’s no use in using the dishwasher. I think the only time I used it was when I first moved in and wanted to wash all my dishes before putting them away. I couldn’t just unpack them and put them in the cabinet. They had to be cleaned, though they already were.
Turning the water off, Griz comes back to me, takes my hand which is not wrapped around my coffee mug, and pulls me into my living room with him. Once there, he sits and draws me down onto his lap, my legs on either side of him, and his hands resting on my bottom. How he managed this without me spilling a drop of coffee on him is somewhat baffling. It’s a full mug, and he maneuvered me with such ease.
“Now that we got that out of the way. It’s time for us to have our talk,” he says firmly.
Blinking, I lift the mug to my lips and take a sip, staring at him, waiting for him to continue.
“Someone broke into your house, and you didn’t even blink. This happen before?”
“I don’t see how any of this is any of your business,” I inform him and take another sip of my coffee.
Griz’s hands leave my bottom. One goes to my hip, the other coming to take the mug from my hand. He sets it on the end table next to my couch and brings his hand back to my hip. All of this he does quickly as tension seems to build in him.
“You wanna change that answer, sweets?”
“Why would I do that?”
“Maybe because I think I’ve shown you multiple times throughout the night I was makin’ you my business. You tell me or I do a deep dive and find out what you seem to want to keep hidden.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” I snap, balking at the very thought, but even as I say this, I know he has the means of doing it. He found my address and the little bit he has.
“Sweets, I’ve got no problem doing what I gotta do to find out what I want. I’d prefer it if you told me rather than me having to get the information elsewhere. It’d be a whole lot easier.”
“Why do you seem not to get this? We’re not a thing. Last night was a one-time deal. You have no right to look into me. Nor do you need to worry about what happened.” I shove against his chest and do my best to get up. I’m caught off guard that he actually allows me to do so.
Getting to my feet, I put space between us, hands on my hips, all the while glaring at Griz. However, I don’t miss the calculating glint in his gaze or the fact that he sits there lounging back. He looks like he has no cares in the world, but my senses are screaming at me to be wary of the man sprawled out in front of me.
“You just need to leave, Griz.” I sigh, hating myself because I don’t want him to. It’s just for the best.
I take a step back, watching Griz stand, unfortunately, I didn’t calculate that he could move. Between one second and the other, I find myself not moving back from him but plastered to his front.
“I’m not leaving, Marley. You can get that thought out of your head. I want you. I want this. What we’ve got between us. I know you feel it as much as I do. We’re gonna explore it. See where it goes between us.”
“And what if I don’t want this? How do I know you aren’t going to flake on me? Hurt me? Or —”
“Fucked up with you,” he says, interrupting me. His fingers slide up into my hair, tangling in the strands. “I know I fucked up by leadin’ you on then ghostin’ you the way I did. But I’m not gonna fuck up like that again. Not with you, Marley. Can’t guarantee I won’t hurt you, though, I’d never fuckin’ hurt you on purpose. I’m an asshole, and I know it. I’m sure to say some shit that could hurt your feelings. That’s when you gotta get in my face about it. I will say, you never do that shit in front of my brothers, though. You got something to say, or I do some shit, you tell me when we’re alone.”
“So, what, you can talk to me as you want in front of your friends, and I’m just supposed to take it?”
If that’s the case, then I definitely won’t be partaking in any relationship with him.
“No, that’s not what I’m saying. If I did, my brothers would have my balls themselves. Hell, their ol’ ladies would be all up in my shit. What I’m sayin’ here is that we got a problem, I fuck up and you need to get in my face about it, you do it in private.”
I open my mouth to say something, only to close it. Griz has me totally and completely flabbergasted. I’m not sure what to say. On the one hand I can respect what he’s saying. It’s the way my own parents are. If they have problems, they handle them in private. They don’t bring it to anyone else around them. On the other hand, I don’t like being told what I should or shouldn’t do, especially if it comes to someone talking to me in a way that will piss me off.
“I see you’re struggling with the idea of you having to hold your shit back in public,” he says. The side of his lip twitching, not quite turning up into a grin.
“Well, who can blame me? I’m the type of person who lets things fly when I have to.” I shrug nonchalantly. “It’s who I am.”
“And I wouldn’t want you to be anyone else.”
Okay, that was really sweet.
Maybe more than a little sweet.
It’s majorly sweet.
And I really, really, like it.
“How about this,” he murmurs. He shifts us from where he had us, moves us to the couch, lowers me down, and comes over me. “We just see where it goes. Take it day by day. That work for you?”
I could do that. Day by day is the way I live my life. I could totally do that.
“I could do that.” I nod.
“Good. Now, talk to me about who the fuck would have broken into your house.”
Sighing, I relax underneath him. “I honestly don’t know who would break into my house. And before you ask, no, it’s not the first time someone has done something like this. I had a guy do it before. He was trying to scare me into dropping something I was working on.”
“What were you working on?”
Wasn’t that a loaded question?
Shifting slightly, I divert my gaze, focusing on his shoulder, not answering right away. Griz takes notice of this, shifts off me, and then maneuvers the both of us until we’re fully stretched out on my couch. My body between his and the back cushions. His body braced up on his elbow, his body along the back cushions. The fingers of his free hand coming up to grip my chin gently.
“Tell me, Marley.”
“You already know I’m a skip tracer and process server, both I do freelance.”
“Got that, baby,”
“Right.” Nodding, I trace my fingers on his chest. “I worked alongside some friends who had a business in the same line of work, but they were more. They’re bounty hunters, and I helped them bring in some seriously bad dudes. Unfortunately, one of them had friends who were just like them, only worse because they knew how not to get caught.”
Montrell and his crew, they’d been some serious creepy dudes. I wouldn’t say they were a cult or anything, just a group of weirdos who knew how to stalk and kill. Montrell had been head of the group, and his right-hand man was the one who we caught. He didn’t take to kindly to it and ended up stalking me. Grail and Bash, they’re the ones who convinced me it was time for me to move. Since I moved on, I hadn’t heard anything from Montrell or anyone who followed him. And what happened in my living room was nothing compared to what I’d seen them do.”
“So, you had something like this happen before. It’s why you didn’t even blink,” Griz notes.
“Yeah,” I confirm. “But this isn’t the same MO.”
“You don’t think it’s the same person?”
“No, Montrell made sure I knew it was him and his people who broke in. The message was distinct. This was child’s play.”
“Child’s play or not, it’s not something to fuck around with. Who would want you to get out of town?”
“I don’t know.” I honestly didn’t know. I haven’t been here that long to have made enemies. Shoot, the people that I’ve served papers to, I’ve seen multiple times, and not once have they said one bad thing to me. They might have been pissed about being served papers, but it wasn’t me who did that to them.
“Did you really move to town because of your grandma or because of this bullshit?”
I didn’t expect Griz’s question, and as I stare at him, I learn quickly what I should have already known, this man is in no way, shape, or form dense in any way whatsoever.
“I could’ve moved anywhere. Closer to home with my parents, I mean, I wasn’t that far from them, but I was at least a thirty-minute drive. I could’ve gone to live in Florida or even California if I wanted to. Instead, I came here. My parents, at dinner one night, were talking about how mom wanted Grandma Ryan to move closer to them and how she wouldn’t. I got that and told them I’d move here to be near her. She’s not a hapless old woman by any means. And she likes her freedom.”
“Can’t blame her there. She’s a good woman, makes cookies for the club every Christmas.” There’s no missing the affection in Griz’s voice.
“I didn’t know she made the cookies for the club.”
Every Christmas, when Mom and Dad would meet with Grandma, she’d have loads of cookies for my siblings and me. They were the best. I’m hoping since I’m living here now that I can get her to teach me her secret to making them so dang good.
“Yeah, she’s not far from the club, and Rain, Sniper’s ol’ lady, she visits with your grandma all the time.”
Interesting.
“Well, anyway, I highly doubt this has anything to do with Montrell,” I state, getting back to the subject at hand. “But to confirm this, I’ll give Grail or Bash a call. Last time I talked to them, they were out on a job chasing some idiot who thought he could beat the hell out of his wife and then skip town without consequences.”
“Go ahead and give them a call now, sweets. We rule this person out, we can see about figuring out who the fuck broke in. It might not seem like a big deal to you, but it’s still a damn big deal.”
“Okay,” I mutter. I know he’s right, but I still think it’s someone playing with me.