Chapter Eighteen Ruby #2
Griffin slid on a pair of mirrored aviator glasses and twisted his Denver hat backward on his head. With the scruff on his jaw and the slightly overlong hair along the back of his neck and over his ears, he looked far too appealing for his own good.
“Buckle up, birdy. We’re gonna test the limits of this thing when we get on the highway.”
My stomach jumped into my throat. “Why are we getting on the highway? Where are we going?”
Not that he would’ve answered anyway, because the man was clearly a sadist, but his phone rang and when he caught sight of the name on the screen, he let out a small hoot of laughter.
He punched a button on the dashboard to answer. “Steven, how are you feeling this morning?”
“If you get a single scratch on my wife’s car, I’ll drop your ass so fast.”
My head whipped over to gawk at Griffin, but he was merely grinning. He leaned forward and pressed a button, the engine purring to life. Over the phone, his agent groaned.
“It’ll be fine. Have I ever gotten in a car accident before?”
“You are a menace.”
“A menace who just got you a nice paycheck. I paid for this car, Steven.”
His agent scoffed. “You are so lucky they just paid you thirty-two million dollars, because that commission is the only reason I put up with your ass.”
My eyes widened, the proverbial floor dropping out from underneath my feet, and I slowly swung my head back in his direction.
“You put up with me because you love me, Steven,” he said, giving me a tiny wink when he caught the flabbergasted look on my face.
“All evidence to the contrary, King. I’ve got seven new gray hairs this week, just from you living at my house.”
I sank down into the seat, pinching the bridge of my nose.
Thirty-two million dollars. Just like a normal person, my ass.
While my head was buzzing with shock, Griffin said something to his agent about how we’d be perfectly fine and there was nothing to worry about, and to the backdrop of Steven’s creative use of swear words, he disconnected the phone call.
“You all right, birdy?”
“Thirty-two million dollars?” I squeaked.
He lifted a shoulder. “Not bad for two years, especially at my age. Denver really wanted me.”
“That’s for two years?” I groaned, covering my face with both hands. Griffin laughed warmly, tugging my hands down.
There was a fond look in his eye while he studied my face. “What’s the matter? Because I know you better than to think that something like money would intimidate you.”
“Of course it does.” I gestured erratically.
“I had this whole speech planned for our walk, and I was going to tell you why I still think my friends-with-benefits idea is highly logical, and now all I can think about is how I climbed into your lap and you make sixteen million dollars a year. No wonder women do a song and dance for you after games.”
“I was kidding about that,” he said dryly.
I sighed. “I know.”
“I make more than sixteen mill, you know,” he added. When my head angled toward him, he winked again. “Endorsements.”
I blew out a slow breath and sank into my seat.
He eased the car forward, and I had to admit, the low hum of the engine was extremely appealing.
The whole vehicle seemed to purr, and it dulled a bit of my embarrassment as the breeze ruffled the loose hairs by the side of my face.
It was silly to be so bothered by it. Obviously he made millions.
How many professional athletes didn’t? Plus, he was on commercials.
During my rest the day before, when I was supposed to be thinking about whether I’d actually meant to proposition him, I’d found myself scrolling YouTube.
A simple search of his name produced a mind-boggling number of videos.
Game replays (which I didn’t watch), highlight reels (which I did), feats of physical strength and prowess that made my skin feel tight and itchy and warm.
The things he could make his body do defied any sort of logic I had within my grasp.
Naturally, I had to watch those, um, a few times to make sure I could process them correctly.
He had commercials—for a shoe company and an athletic beverage. One cheesy campaign for an insurance company that made me laugh despite myself. I watched that a few times too.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched the flex of muscles under the golden-tan skin on his forearm and felt my mouth go dry. When he glanced in my direction, I yanked my head around to look out my side of the car.
Griffin pressed down on the gas, and the corresponding roar of the engine, the whipping air around our faces, pulled a smile onto my face immediately.
He zipped the car onto the highway, and I tipped my head back, allowing the sun to warm my face and the hypnotic swirling of air make me go weightless.
After only a couple of minutes, I lifted my arms up and stretched them into the air, almost like I was riding a roller coaster. Griffin turned his head to watch, a slow, devastating smile creasing his face.
“Faster?” he asked.
I nodded immediately.
He eased a hand over my leg; then, at the same moment his fingers curled possessively around my thigh, Griffin pressed down on the gas again. The car surged forward, and I laughed breathlessly.
It felt like flying.
There was a time after my surgery where a moment like this might’ve held a bittersweet edge. That it came at a devastating cost—years of my life, my health, someone else’s life. But today, sitting in the sun with the breeze ripping through my hair, I simply let myself enjoy how good it felt.
I lowered my arms, then clasped Griffin’s hand with my own and smiled over at him.
“Where are we going?” I yelled over the roar of the wind.
He pointed at the next highway sign. “Somewhere on that sign.”
There were four cities listed; Fort Collins was one, Denver was another, so those were the most likely. But knowing him, he’d spring an overnight trip on me without hesitation.
I rolled my eyes. “Helpful.”
Griffin squeezed my leg. “I do what I can.”
As we drove for another twenty minutes, I mentally crossed off Fort Collins and decided to simply enjoy the journey.
The Rocky Mountains off to the west were imposing under the sun, big and majestic against the blue Colorado sky, snow still visible on the highest of the peaks, variegated greens and browns spread out like a carpet over the base.
“You ever go hiking?” he asked, slowing the speed on the car enough that he didn’t need to yell to be heard.
I shook my head. “Hiking mountains wasn’t something I wanted to do before I had a hand-me-down heart. Looking at them is good enough for me.”
“No hiking dates. Got it.”
My cheeks were warm as I turned my head, fixing my attention outside the car. Something about the casual way he’d said that had my pulse sky-high. I closed my eyes, and instead of overthinking, I simply distilled all my thoughts into one singular direction.
What do you want, Ruby?
It was easy enough to answer, my gaze lingering again on his big body as he deftly handled the car, the way his hand held the top of the steering wheel and his other held my thigh.
We passed a sign for a rest area, and I squeezed his hand. “Are we on a time limit?” I asked.
“Not a firm one, why?”
I pointed at the sign, and he nodded easily. Behind the relative safety of my own sunglasses, I was able to study the hard lines of his profile. Those caused a tightening of my thighs, too, and another fluttering thing in my belly.
Lying in the dark of my room the night before—completely exhausted yet unable to sleep—I was able to logic myself through my wanton little display quite easily.
It was effortless to do things like climb in Griffin’s lap because he’d made the chemistry between us feel equally effortless.
Speaking up and saying what I wanted, for the first time in my life, didn’t feel like a hurdle to overcome.
With him, I wasn’t paralyzed with worst-case scenario outcomes because the noise in my head was muted, like he’d single-handedly conjured the loud wind to drown out everything except what I really needed to hear.
Griffin removed his hand from my leg to hold on to the steering wheel as he eased the car off the highway and down the slightly curved path to the parking lots. It was a parking-only rest area, and other than a few semis on the far side of the lot, we were the only car there.
“Park over by those trees,” I told him, and with a nod, he obliged.
Once the car engine cut off, leaving just the sound of the highway behind us, both Griffin and I exited the vehicle. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his black joggers and joined me at the front of the car, where I attempted to fix my tangled mess of hair into a neater ponytail.
“You always have to stop this soon into a road trip? Remind me not to take you cross-country anytime soon.”
I exhaled a short laugh, then pushed my sunglasses onto the top of my head.
Griffin followed suit, anchoring his glasses on the top of his hat, glancing up at the towering grove of trees where we’d parked.
There were no mountain views here, not where we were standing, but we did have privacy, and with no clear idea of where this jaunt was ending up, I needed privacy more than anything.
Griffin stretched his arms, groaning in a way that tugged at the hair on the back of my neck. His T-shirt lifted, a glimpse of his hard stomach making the fluttery things return. Belatedly, I realized he was watching me watch him, and the grin on his face had my cheeks burning hot.
“Like something you see?” he asked lazily, seating himself on the hood of the car and spreading his legs out slightly.
An invitation, based on the glint in his eye.
I raised my chin an inch. “Yes.”
At my frank answer, his brows popped up. I let out a deep breath and moved between his spread legs. He closed them slightly, adding pressure to the outside of my thighs with his knees, and I swallowed against a dry throat.