Chapter Twelve Griffin
Chapter Twelve
Griffin
“Don’t go anywhere, folks. After commercial break, we’re going to talk about the King twins.”
“Are we? I thought we’d talked about them enough last week. What are they up to now?”
“Barrett King has been working nonstop, no surprise there. Preparation is the man’s middle name.
But Griffin King hasn’t been spotted anywhere around the team facilities in New York since his interview went viral—and we’re going to break down all the gossip about where he might be, if the rumors are true that he’s hunting for another team in order to avoid big brother. ” The podcaster paused. “Stay tuned.”
Fuck. I punched the power button on the stereo in my car.
Because I was driving aimlessly, I wasn’t paying attention to where I’d turned until the library came into view.
In the back of the parking lot, I saw Ruby’s car.
Without thinking about it too heavily, I pulled into a spot, exhaling before I exited the vehicle and walked over to the bench where she and I had sat on that first day.
My phone rang with a video call about three seconds later, and with the assumption that Steven had heard the same clip, I didn’t even bother looking at the screen when I picked it up.
“I know, you’re pissed at me.”
“I probably should be, especially if the rumors are true and you just signed with my team without telling me, you dick.”
At the sound of Marcus Henderson’s voice, I did a double take at the face filling the screen.
We’d played at Oregon together, even though I graduated a couple years before him.
His hair was longer, the reddish-blond beard around his face scruffier than I’d ever seen it.
“Does that mean you’re actually going to start catching the ball well enough that you don’t need a stronger defense? ”
His laugh was deep and rich. “I’ll see what I can do. So it’s true, then?”
I scratched the side of my face. “Yeah. Ink’s not dry on the contract, but I go in next week to sign. You gonna talk shit about me in the locker room before I get there?”
“Yeah right. You’re a fucking legend.” He tipped his head back and howled. “I’m throwing a party for you once you’re in town. How long has it been, man?”
“Not long enough. The last time you took me out for drinks—after I played you in Denver a few years ago—I was hungover for a week, and Steven threatened to fire both of us if we ever did that again.” I grimaced. “I still can’t touch tequila after that night.”
He laughed. “Oh yeah. Remember those twins I took home?”
“I’m surprised you do,” I said dryly. “You could hardly see straight.”
“Text me when you’re in next week. I want a repeat.”
“No way. I’m getting too old for that shit.” I narrowed my eyes at the screen. “What are you doing with your hair right now? You look like a fucking Viking.”
Marcus stroked a tattooed hand over his beard. “Chicks dig this; you have no idea.”
“Why? You look feral.”
He grinned unrepentantly. “Exactly.”
“Still an animal, Henderson.”
“Like you didn’t sleep with just as many women as I did in college.”
“In college,” I pointed out, laying a hand on my chest. “I’ve grown. I’ve matured.”
“So if I asked you to streak through training camp, you’d say no?”
“I did that one time, asshole. We were nineteen.”
He laughed. “Remember Coach’s face?”
“Yes,” I answered grimly. “I also remember that was strike one of my three.”
Marcus’s face turned thoughtful. “What was strike two?”
We remembered at the same time. “His office,” we said in unison.
Marcus laughed. “He was cleaning glitter out of his files for weeks.”
“I can’t believe I stayed friends with you after all that. Why did I always get in trouble for your shitty ideas?”
“First, because I am excellent company. And second, because I was smart enough to let you have the spotlight.” He wagged his finger in the air. “You and your competitive streak. Even if it was just to set yourself apart from Barrett, it worked out very well for me.”
I snorted. “Yeah, because I always took the blame.”
“What a good friend, always wanting to come in first with the big impression.”
“Not anymore,” I said. “I’ll happily concede that spot to you. I’m an adult, Marcus. You should try it.”
“Fuck off, you mean to tell me you’ve turned into Barrett?” He snorted. “I know better than that. He’s got a stick up his ass so far I can’t believe it hasn’t come out of his mouth yet.”
It was odd talking to someone who still saw you as a very specific version of yourself. It wasn’t like I’d changed a lot, but I had changed. It was subtle, something that had happened day by day, but it seemed—especially recently—that no one but me had noticed.
Marcus leaned in toward the screen. “I see a whole lot of nature behind you. Where the hell are you right now?”
“Staying at Steven’s place outside Fort Collins.”
“No you’re fucking not. You’re that close? Shit, Griffin, I can be there before dinner.” The background behind the phone was a blur, and only half of Marcus’s face appeared on the screen as he walked through his house. “He’s never invited me there, and I live in Denver. That prick.”
Before I could respond, the door to the library opened, the sun glinting off the glass, and I was smiling before I knew what was happening.
“I have plans tonight,” I told him, eyes lingering on the cut of her wide-leg pants as she walked and the pale-pink silk blouse that tied primly around her neck. Oh yeah. This was definitely her naughty-librarian look, but I decided it was best for my health if I didn’t tell her that.
“What the hell are you doing at his place? Is he there with you?”
“Nah. He grounded me so I wouldn’t piss anyone else off before the contract is signed in Denver.”
“Did he? Steven never messes around when he’s got money on the line.”
“Fuck off,” I said without any heat. “How about you? Still living in that stupid apartment?”
“The penthouse downtown? Yeah, asshole, I am. Chicks dig this too. They like all the glass windows, if you catch my drift.”
“Remind me not to touch anything if I come over.”
He laughed. “Oh, come on. When can we get together?”
Ruby set her hands on her hips and stared down at me, tapping her foot impatiently. I merely pointed at the phone, giving her an apologetic smile.
“Wait,” Marcus said. “Isn’t it your birthday soon?”
I gave him an incredulous look. “How the hell do you remember that?”
“Because I almost got alcohol poisoning the night you turned twenty-one.”
“That sounds like something that happens to you weekly. I don’t think you can blame me.”
“I’ll do that as long as I can.” He notched his chin up. “Someone there with you? You keep looking at something.”
“An old friend,” I told him, eyes locked on Ruby, who crossed her arms and sighed heavily.
He made a knowing noise. “You going to introduce me? You know I enjoy making new friends.”
“Not a chance in hell.”
“Why not? If she’s your friend, I can guarantee she’ll like me. I’m definitely better looking, and I’m a hell of a lot more fun.”
“She’s way too smart for the likes of either one of us.”
Ruby’s eyes locked with mine, then quickly darted away.
He snorted. “Which means she’s hot and you don’t want me to know it.”
If I admitted it out loud—because Ruby looked pretty fucking good today—she’d never believe me. She’d think it was for show. Instead, I merely smiled. “Use your imagination. I think I’ll keep her to myself for now.”
Ruby’s cheeks flared pink, and I had a sudden spike of interest under my ribs, wondering how far down her neck and chest that soft sunrise color might spread.
“Tell you what,” I said. “How about you come out to Steven’s place for my birthday. Bring a couple guys from the team. We can keep it low-key.”
Marcus perked up. “For real? You’d let me throw my Welcome to Denver rager at Steven’s house?”
I rolled my eyes. “No one’s trashing anything. I said we could hang out here, dickwad. Use your listening ears. I told you, I don’t party like that anymore.”
“Yeah right. Everyone says that until I show up.”
“Think that sounds like a you problem, Marcus. No rager. No groupies. No drugs.”
He pouted. “No women? Not even some nice ones?”
“They’re all nice to you,” I drawled.
“Fuck, are they. Come on, what if a couple of the guys have girlfriends? You gonna make me say no to them? I’m encouraging healthy monogamy by letting them come along.”
I snorted. “Sure you are. Listen, I gotta go. I’ll text you next week, okay?”
He leaned in, making an obnoxious kissing sound at the camera. “I miss you already,” he crooned.
“Fucking hell,” I muttered, disconnecting the call before smiling up at Ruby. “Sorry about that. He’s the worst.”
“Another football player, I presume?”
I nodded. “We played in college together. He heard rumors that I was getting traded to Denver. Marcus Henderson?”
She shrugged. “I don’t pay attention to any sports, really. Is he good?”
“Unfortunately.” I grinned. “He’s got a minor drinking problem in the offseason, but once the games start, he’s an absolute terror on the field.” I paused, tilting my head to drink her in. “Look at you.”
She set her hands on her hips and stared down at me. “How do these clothes fit perfectly? I’ve been shopping for myself since I was fifteen, and the stuff I pick out never fits this well. When I walked in this morning, Lauren almost passed out.”
“I bet she did.” I tilted my head the other direction, studying the way the pants hugged her hips and backside.
Ruby might be small, but no matter what she said about having no curves, she sure as hell had some.
She just wasn’t used to displaying them properly.
“I showed the woman helping me,” I said, holding up my hands like I’d done at the house the morning before, when I almost curved them around her ribs to measure.
“We made a pretty good approximation, don’t you think? ”
The line of her throat worked on a swallow. “Yes.”
I leaned in to whisper, “Plus, I looked at your sizes once I finished counting all your cardigans.”