Chapter 8 #2
Apart from Sabine and her dour disposition, the remaining staff is polite and welcoming—particularly Dorian.
Broad as a barn door, with arms the size of tree trunks, he looks like he should be guarding the gates of Valhalla.
Yet, the second Chowder winds around his ankles, the giant turns into a puddle, crouching low to scratch behind my cat’s ears like he was born for it.
Before I know it, most of the staff is done, and my stomach is growling for lunch.
“How’s your first day shaping up?”
Glancing up, I smile at Capri leaning against the doorjamb. She’s a striking woman, her platinum bob framing sharp cheekbones and wide-set eyes that miss nothing. “So far, so good.”
“Excellent. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help you.”
Thrusting a cup in her direction, I grin. “For you.”
Capri stares at it, one brow arched. “Reese, I don’t get tested.”
“According to the rules, every resident at the ranch gets drug tested.” I hold up a bag with my name on the label. “If it makes you feel better, I’ve already submitted mine.”
That earns me a short laugh. “You’re tougher than I thought.”
“Only to protect the people I care about. You helped me when I needed it most. I won’t forget that—even if I run my clinic like a navy ship.”
“Could be worse,” Capri remarks as her gaze shifts to the bouquet.
Hard to miss, with their vibrant purple and yellow blooms practically screaming, look at me .
“Lovely flowers.”
I nod quickly, trying to downplay them. The last thing I need is another reminder of what a tease Griffin is, and how very special I’m not.
“Griffin got them for me. At least, I assume he did. Sabine said he’s a terrible flirt and does this sort of thing for everyone.
But I still think it’s nice. They’re my favorite. ”
Capri’s mouth curves, like she’s fighting the urge to laugh—not at the flowers, but at me. “Sabine said that? Griffin has never brought anyone flowers. Especially not those. They require a half-mile hike to the valley floor. Trust me, he doesn’t flirt with anyone. Until now.”
Her words should reassure me. Instead, they stir the butterflies cocooned in my belly, leaving me more tangled in knots than before. Capri’s still watching me, eyes sharp and knowing, like she’s pieced together a secret I haven’t dared admit.
The rest of the afternoon passes quietly until a knock sounds at my door. Griffin pokes his head in, a sheepish grin tugging at his mouth. Dirt streaks his shirt, and his hair is mussed, with that stubborn forelock falling into his eyes.
“Hi. Sorry I’m so late. My job ran over, and I lost track of time.”
Oh God. Could he have picked a worse phrase? Job ran over . Exactly what I want to hear from an escort.
Not that I’m falling for his charm, anyway.
Even if he looks infuriatingly good standing there like a ruffled farmhand fantasy.
“Not a problem. I’m sure you’re quite busy… being the star attraction.”
Yep, I damn near lose my lunch saying that.
Judging by the sour look crossing Griffin’s face, he doesn’t like it any better than I do.
He stiffens, pulling his hat off and turning it in his hands. “I’ve been repairing a fence. Hence the fancy digs.”
“My mistake,” I murmur, trying my damnedest to avoid direct eye contact.
It’s far too dangerous to look at him. He does too many wild, springy things to my insides.
“Just give me a second and I’ll get you set up for testing, okay?” I push myself to my feet and focus on collecting supplies before directing Griffin to the blood draw chair. “Have a seat.”
Griffin drops into the chair with a muffled grunt. “Sorry if I stink. Worked up quite a sweat out there.”
“You’re fine, although…” I pause, unable to get his shirt far enough up his biceps. “I’m afraid you’ll have to take this off.”
“Sure.” He swiftly unbuttons the shirt and shrugs it off, revealing a tanned and toned chest and arms.
Do not drool, Reese. Do. Not. Drool.
“Thanks.” I tie off the tourniquet around his arm, then reach for the alcohol wipe. The sharp scent burns my nose as I swipe a circle over his skin.
“Do you like the flowers?” His voice is soft, lined with uncertainty.
The question throws me. My hand stills, frozen, the alcohol wipe pressed against his skin. Slowly, I glance toward the bouquet on my desk, then back at him.
“They’re lovely,” I reply, my tone even as I focus on the job at hand. “Your ex told me you’re quite the welcome wagon—flowers for new residents, that sort of thing. I think it’s a sweet gesture.”
“Wait, what?” The corner of his mouth twitches as he drums the fingers of his free hand against his thigh. “Sabine said that?”
I nod, careful to keep my face neutral. “She did. Little stick, okay?”
But Griffin is more than happy to discuss his ex.
“For the record, I’ve never brought anyone flowers. Certainly not here. And as for Sabine,” his lips flatten into a grim line, “she was the longest ten days of my life.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Trust me, it’s fine.” Griffin chuckles, running a hand over his stubble. “Honestly, it was a blip. Not worth mentioning, which is why I don’t. No offense to Sabine, of course, but we’re better off as work colleagues.”
“I get that.” I fill the last vial and press a gauze to his arm, bending it at the elbow. “Hold that there for a second and I’ll grab a bandage.”
“The thing is, I wanted to make you smile again. Like you did last night when you saw that valley. You have the most beautiful smile, Reese.”
My hands tremble as I grab a bandage from the drawer and return to his side.
Time to play off his charms, no matter how disarming and adorable they are.
“My smile is crooked.”
“No, it’s beautiful. Like your eyes. The way the afternoon light is shining in the window, they’re… God, they’re luminous.”
I roll my eyes, trying to keep it light. “They’re brown.”
His voice softens, steady and certain. “Brown like polished wood, rich and fiery. Strong. Honest. The kind of color people don’t notice until they’re close enough to really see.”
Heat pricks my lashes. I cannot cry over a man who gets paid obscene amounts of money to say sweet things.
As if he senses it, Griffin clears his throat, his gaze dipping before he speaks again. “I’m sorry if my compliments make you uncomfortable. I just think it’s about time you saw yourself the way others do.”
My chest tightens, the sting sharper than any needle in my hand. I can’t remember the last time anyone said something like that. Maybe no one ever has.
“No one’s ever seen anything in me.” The words fall from my lips before my brain can stop them.
His answer is immediate, low and reverent. “You’re wrong. I knew you were uncanny the second I laid eyes on you.”
The words slip beneath my stoic facade, pressing against the wounds my heart still carries.
I fumble with the vials, pretending to be busy, because if I look at him right now, I’ll shatter.
Griffin watches me for a beat, then—mercifully—changes direction. “My band, you know the guys I jam with? We’re playing down at the bar Friday night. You should come.”
“That sounds like fun. Hopefully, Piper can go with me.”
There’s that smile again. Every single time, it turns me on my head. “What’s your favorite song? I’ll play it for you.”
“What kind of music do you play?”
Griffin leans against the doorframe, that dimpled grin once again taking center stage as his curly hair falls into his eyes. “Take a wild guess.”
“I’m not too familiar with country music, aside from the pop crossovers, so you probably don’t have my song in your rotation.”
“Try me.”
I hesitate, then shrug, my fingers fussing with the edge of the intake folder on my desk. “Honestly? Van Morrison is my all-time favorite. Do you know his music?”
He chuckles low, twirling the brim of his hat between his hands. “Of course. Everyone knows Van Morrison. Brown Eyed Girl , right?”
I laugh, shaking my head. “I love that one, but it’s not my favorite.”
“Oh yeah? What is?”
“It’s a toss-up,” I admit. “If I want to dance, it’s Bright Side of the Road . But if I want to slow dance…” My voice drops to a whisper. “…then it’s Crazy Love .”
Griffin’s gaze locks onto mine, heat flickering in those stormy eyes. His thumb rubs along the crown of his hat, slow and restless. His voice drops, rougher than before. “Good choices.”
My stomach flips.
Stop it, Reese. Keep it on the straight and narrow.
“I’ll learn one for you,” he says finally.
I wave him off, though my pulse is hammering. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to.” His smile turns softer, almost reverent. “With you, I want to do everything.”
Emotions lodge in my throat. His words are too much and yet, they spark something deep inside me all the same.
I swallow hard, trying to reel us back to safer ground. “The flowers are beautiful, Griffin. He never got me flowers.”
His jaw shifts, his voice lowering until it’s almost a confession. “Beautiful, he never did a lot of things for you. All I know is when I’m around you, I want to try.”
My breath falters. He shouldn’t say things like that. He can’t mean them. And yet…
I drag my hands up to cover my face, trying to hide from the weight of his words. “How do you always know the right thing to say? Is it just practiced? Or is it?—”
Heat spreads across my fingers as he gently tugs my hands away, holding them in his. His palms are broad, rough-edged, and so comforting—just like yesterday when he first held my hand.
I can’t bring myself to look at him, not at first. But when I do, he’s already staring at me, blue eyes intent, steady as stone.
“I will never lie to you,” he says, low and certain.
The honesty in his voice nearly undoes me. My lips part, my voice a whisper. “Who are you, Griffin?”
He leans closer, close enough that the faint scrape of his stubble grazes my cheek. His warmth wraps around me, his scent all cedar and sun. His lips brush feather-light against my cheek, then again, slower, lower, right at the edge of my jaw.
A shiver races through me, heat pooling low in my belly.
He lingers there, his mouth so close to my ear that his breath tickles across my skin, making every nerve stand at attention.
“Just a man with one goal,” he murmurs, his voice rough velvet. “Making you smile.”