16. Christian #2
I hid my smile behind a clenched fist pressed to my mouth. “And the bit about dressing for boys?”
She flopped back in the armchair as feet thundered overhead.
“Dressing for boys is a rite of passage. Eventually they’ll realize that men of any age don’t notice clothes and they’ll start dressing to impress their girlfriends—which is far more expensive and time consuming.
” She huffed dramatically, popping out the footrest and flopping one leg over the other, crossing her ankles.
“Eventually they’ll come to the realization that everyone sucks equally and just start doing what they want.
I’d tell you there’s hope, but I don’t care enough to lie to you.
It’s a cycle that’s happened for thousands of years and cannot be avoided.
The sooner you accept it and get used to handing over your credit card, the easier your life will be. ”
I glanced over my shoulder to make sure the girls were still upstairs. “You’re wrong about one thing.”
Her frown was fierce. “I’m never wrong.”
“You’re wrong about men never noticing.” The silk blouse she was in gave it away. My hands were filthy, so I trailed a knuckle down the exposed red bra strap peeking out on top of her shoulder. “I notice everything, Cass.”
Her breath hitched. Long lashes shielded her eyes as they lowered to watch my finger.
“So I guess the question is, who are you wearing this for?”
Crimson lips curled in a victorious smile. “The last part of the equation.”
“What was that?”
Her grin was feline. “Me.”
I shoved my hand in my pocket. “Keep telling yourself that, Princess.”
Cassandra relaxed. “It’s ‘my queen.’”
I laughed. “Sweetheart, there’s only one situation where I’ll call you that and, I promise you, this ain’t it.”
A devilish look sparkled in her eye. “Is that so?”
“Okay, what about this?” Bree blurted out as she rushed down the stairs in a skirt and a Cowboys football t-shirt that was at least two sizes too small and kept riding up her stomach. She had gotten the shirt when she was Gracie’s age.
“Absolutely not,” Cassandra and I said together.
Cass punctuated it with a wave of the wand. “Go do better.”
“Yes, my queen!” Bree said as she bolted back up the stairs.
The charade lasted until I called the girls down for dinner. I was fairly certain they had emptied every garment out of their closets and were wading through clothes by the end.
I was half-tempted to make them pick it all up before they went to bed, then decided it could wait until the weekend.
We didn’t live in a state of melancholy. I worked hard to get my head right after Gretchen passed. All three of us went to therapy—together and separately—and found healthy coping mechanisms that helped us live relatively normal lives.
But there was an energy about the girls that I hadn’t seen in a long time.
Ever, if I was being honest.
Cassandra maintained her majestic composure and decorum throughout the meal, but entertained the onslaught of questions.
Gracie’s inquisition mostly centered around life in New York, which she called the happiest place on earth.
Bree’s curiosity massed around navigating friendships, an awful teacher, and a boy she had a crush on.
Cassandra’s opinion was that everyone sucked and it wouldn’t get better even when she got out of school, so she should just stop worrying about what other people are doing.
The jabbering didn’t stop until the girls were brushing their teeth.
When I came back down the stairs after kissing the girls goodnight, I found Cassandra at the sink, drying dishes. I was surprised to say the least.
Her ass swayed with each swipe of the dish towel.
“I know you’re watching me,” she said without taking her eyes off the plate in her hand.
“What gave me away?”
She laughed softly. “You smell like the outdoors. A little bit like gasoline and exhaust.”
“I was working on one of the tractors before I called it a day.”
Cassandra turned, resting her ass on the edge of the counter as she dried her hands. She had put her high heels back on, even though she had been working from the living room after our … run-in.
“What?” she said as she tossed the towel onto the countertop.
I just shook my head. “Don’t know how you walk around in those things all day. Can’t be comfortable.”
She looked down at the stilettos. “They’re more comfortable than the boots you gave me.”
“Boots have to be broken in. Just takes time.”
She wiggled a pointed toe at me. “These are already broken in.”
The silence between us was heavy. I braced my hands on the back of a chair and she kept to her spot by the sink.
I really didn’t want to have this conversation.
I shouldn’t be having this conversation.
I should have shut the fucking door this afternoon and walked away.
But I didn’t.
I stood there, staring at her, like I had found the Holy Grail.
Maybe I had. But I wasn’t worthy enough to touch it.
“Look, Cass… About earlier…” I glanced up, hoping to find her looking as uncomfortable as I felt.
But the devil was smirking.
“Yeah…” Her eyes trailed south. “I hope you found some time to take care of that boner.” She pushed off the counter and walked to me, pausing when we were shoulder to shoulder. “Pretty sure if it lasts for more than four hours you’re supposed to seek medical attention.”
I caught her wrist as she reached to give me a placating pat on my arm. “I wasn’t rejecting you. Just to be clear.”
“Hmm. You have a funny way of showing it, Griffith.”
“It won’t happen again, is what I’m trying to say.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Why not?” She let out a lighthearted laugh. “Because if it’s the whole workplace romance thing, I can assure you that I have no intentions of doing that again. Sex and romance are two different things.”
My grip softened around her wrist.
Cassandra’s eyes flicked down to where our skin met.
“I agree,” I said, taking her by surprise.
“You do?”
I nodded. “But it doesn’t matter. I don’t bring women back to the house.”
“I already live here,” she whispered.
And damn if I wasn’t tempted to break my rule…
“I don’t bring temporary hook-ups into this house. Not while the girls live here. I’ve worked hard to give them stability and security. I don’t jeopardize that?—”
Her lips called to me. I wanted to see that lipstick smeared. I wanted to hear those breathy moans. I wanted to hear her beg. I wanted my hands all over the body I had commanded to come.
“—no matter how much I want to.”
A soft, amusing exhale whispered from between her lips. “Then it’s a good thing that I haven’t gotten rid of the ring yet.”
I growled, listening to her laugh as she disappeared into her room.
Great. Another fucking boner.