Chapter 8 #2
Her “Tallulah” was her precious, ridiculous poodle that one of her grandkids had given her last year, but Lyndie’s mind was still on Griffin’s “skinny butt,” because she’d seen it, in nothing but wet, clinging shorts, and didn’t think it was so skinny at all.
Granted there wasn’t an ounce of fat on him, but what he had was solid as a rock, and extremely…
nice. But as for why he smelled like the soap they used on Tallulah… “Well…”
The poodle in question burst into the room with the momentum of a rocket ship.
Barking fiercely, she launched herself toward Griffin, but once she reached him, she stopped short so fast her back end nearly tumbled over her front end.
Without warning, she collapsed to her back, exposing her belly to be scratched.
Tallulah, it turned out, was fond of men who smelled just like her.
Lyndie might have laughed at the look on Griffin’s face, but Rosa was hugging them both again. “You spend all day out there? Dios mío, such hard workers.” Her eyes locked on Griffin. “Tom didn’t mention how pretty you are.”
Griffin appeared baffled by Rosa’s quick subject change, but Lyndie bit her lip. “Yes, he is rather pretty, isn’t he?” She smiled when he let out a low growl from his throat for her ears only. “And he’s hungry. What do you have to take care of that?”
“Much. Venga,” Rosa demanded, and gestured them both down the aged stucco hallway, which was lined with large, cool, smooth tiles and potted plants to cover up all the cracks, of which there were many. “Sure you don’t want to clean up first?” she asked Lyndie.
“Soon as I eat. I’m starving.”
The kitchen was a large, homey room. Pots and pans hung from the low stucco ceilings, and on the big scarred wooden table in the center sat enough food to feed a small army.
Rosa pushed Griffin into a chair, then started loading meat, beans, rice, and freshly made tortillas on a plate.
Only when it was heaping did she hand it to him. “Eat.”
Then she turned to Lyndie and repeated the entire process. “It’s spicy tonight,” she warned, and stroked a strand of hair from Lyndie’s forehead. “Spicy enough to clear your lungs. You’re having trouble today, no?”
“I’m fine.”
“Yes, you are,” Rosa soothed, then ruined the effect by rolling her eyes at Griffin. “Pigheaded fine.”
Griffin laughed.
Rosa beamed at him. “You agree?”
“Oh, I most definitely agree,” he said, and took a big bite. He moaned—a sound that scraped at her nipples—then ate as he appeared to do everything else: with intense concentration. She already knew he worked like that, he talked like that…and he most definitely kissed like that.
Lyndie couldn’t help but wonder what else he did like that.
He kept shoveling in the food, stopping only to lick a crumb off his thumb with a small sucking sound that pulled at any erogenous zones that weren’t already standing at attention. When he finally slowed down some, he shot her a challenging smile. “So, on this pigheaded thing.”
“Ah, yes.” Rosa smiled. “She can’t really help it. She thinks she knows everything.”
“She also thinks she’s funny.” Griffin smiled at Lyndie, and the slight wickedness in it made her nervous. “She neglected to tell me the creek wasn’t the only running water here.”
Rosa lifted her brow so high it vanished into her hair. “Most interesting.”
“I think so.” He shoveled in some more food, clearly savoring every bite.
If he moaned again, Lyndie figured she’d groan right back. “Oh, for God’s sake, I was just teasing you.” She lifted her chin to add authority to the claim. “And before I knew it, you’d taken off all your clothes. Far be it from me to stop you.”
“Far be it,” he said dryly.
“You…teased him.” Rosa clearly found this fascinating.
“I do have a sense of humor, you know.”
“Uh-huh.” Rosa put her tongue in her cheek. “Of course you do.”
Lyndie drew in a deep, irritated breath and ate some more.
“I’ve got your rooms all ready,” Rosa said. “Oh, and as for redoing that upstairs bathroom this summer—”
“Your plans are your plans,” Lyndie said.
“But I wanted to go over—”
“You’re in charge, Rosa.” She tried to add a “not now” look to her words. “You don’t need me.”
Rosa frowned. “You bump your head? What do you mean my plans are my plans, this is your—”
“Rosa. Pantry. Now.” Brushing off her hands, Lyndie got up and headed into the pantry ahead of her, and directly to the second refrigerator there, where she knew she’d left— Ah, yes, there was a God.
The six-pack of beer with her name on it was still there.
She grabbed one, turned around, and ran smack into Rosa.
“What is with you?” Rosa demanded. “You forget to take your vitamin B?”
“I—”
“Listen, querida, I’m just trying to tell you, you have paying guests tonight. They’re already in for the night. I gave the man room one, and the couple room two.”
“Okay.” Paying customers were good.
Rosa still had her hands on her hips. “So why you not want Griffin to know you own this place? That you keep us all together out of the goodness of your heart, that you have a soft spot for San Robledo?”
“I keep you here to keep you out of my hair.” Lyndie took a long pull of the beer.
“No, you have soft spot.”
“Yeah. For your food.”
Rosa laughed and hugged her. “Estás llena de caca.”
Lyndie endured the physical affection—along with Rosa’s telling her she was full of shit—with an eye roll. “I just don’t need to spout out all my personal business for just anyone, that’s all.”
“He is not just anyone. He is helping, he is a hero. You don’t want him to know you have a soft spot, for my food or otherwise. Admit it.”
“Lyndie Anderson has no soft spots.”
Rosa crossed her arms, the universal stance for irked mother figure. “Do you know what I think?”
“If I say yes, will you stop talking?”
“I think you just will not admit that this is home.” Rosa’s smile was warm and smug. “You know what I know about you?”
“Christ, another question. That you drive me out of my mind?”
“That you’re always the nastiest to those you care about.” Rosa patted her cheek. “It is an especially lovable trait of yours.”
Lyndie glanced out into the kitchen. Griffin was still eating as if he hadn’t been fed in a week. “If you’re talking about the bath in the creek,” she said, watching him enjoying his food, “he had it coming.”
“You care about him.”
“Sure. He’s going to help stop the fire.”
“You care about him as a man.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, I’ve only known him one day.”
“A day, a year, it does not matter when it comes to matters of the heart.”
“Rosa.” Lyndie laughed. “Maybe we should switch back to Spanish, your English is starting to fail you.” Grabbing a second beer, she walked back into the kitchen and plopped the bottle down in front of Griffin, who looked up at her warily.
“It’s not poisoned,” she promised, then smiled. “In fact, consider it a peace offering. You know, for the whole creek thing.”
He took a long pull of the beer, then slowly shook his head in regret. “I don’t think so.”
For some reason, the silky words caused her belly to quiver. “You don’t think so what?”
Tipping his head back, he took another long drink, then set the beer down and licked his lower lip.
Another odd quiver.
“We’re not even,” he said softly. “Not yet.”
Oh, boy. “You know what? I’m tired. I’m going to bed. If you want an escort to your room, she’s leaving now.”
He laughed and got up. “So pleasant and agreeable. So positively sweet.”
“Didn’t I tell you? Sweet is my middle name.” She led him back down the arched hallway, through the open reception area, to another hallway, down which there were five rooms that Rosa rented out as often as she could, which it turned out wasn’t that often way out here.
But tonight the first two were taken. Beyond that on the right was the one communal bathroom. And then the last three bedrooms. One for Rosa, one for herself, and one for Griffin.
She stopped in front of the bathroom, pushed open the door. Watched him as he registered the perfectly in-order shower.
He didn’t say a word, just slowly craned his neck and looked at her.
As he did, an unusual sound came from behind the second bedroom door behind them. An undeniable moan, low and rough and sensual. Eyes wide, they both turned and looked at the closed door, just as another soft, pleasure-filled feminine cry filled the air.
And then the answering male groan.
“You know what else this place has besides a communal bathroom with a perfectly operational shower?” Griffin asked softly. He leaned toward her, and when he spoke, his lips brushed the sensitive patch of skin just beneath her ear, making her shiver. “Thin walls.”
“Dios mío!” the woman cried out. “Otra vez…”
Again, she was begging. Oh, God. Lyndie stared at the wood, images floating in her mind, and she didn’t know what to do. For once she didn’t know what to do. She glanced at Griffin, wondering what could possibly be going on in his head.
His eyes were dark, and the look he gave her seared the hair right off her arms, tweaking the hot spots in her body yet again, a good many of which she’d forgotten she even had.
Until today anyway.
“It’s funny how just a sound can make you ache,” Griffin said silkily, his eyes never leaving hers.
Oh, man, am I waaaay out of my league. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He lifted a brow. “Is that right?” He stepped close. Too close. He was in her space. “I feel a challenge to prove just how a sound can make you ache.”
“N-no need.”
“Want to try me?” he asked very softly.
“Well, I—”
His mouth came down on hers, cutting off her words, her thoughts. He kissed her for a long, long moment before lifting his head. Now his lips were just a whisper from hers, close but not touching, and she stared at them, willing him to do it again. Needing him to do it again.
When he didn’t, she grabbed his shirt and closed the gap, doing it herself, opening her mouth to his, and suddenly the twin moans from behind the closed door weren’t the only ones in the inn.
When they broke apart this time, she staggered back a step, staring into Griffin’s slumberous eyes as she let out a shaky laugh. It was that or beg, and she never begged. “I’m still dirty, Ace.”
“You wouldn’t be, if you’d joined me in the creek.”
“Your room is the last on the left.”
“Is that good night, then?”
Just beneath the casual banter was something far too real to play with, and she knew he knew it too. “Yes,” she whispered, and the same sense of relief flickered through his eyes as well.
With a nod, he turned and started down the hall in his soft, faded Levi’s and worn polo shirt. His hair was still a bit wet from the creek. He looked so good walking away from her that she actually reached for him, but luckily her arms weren’t long enough.
Behind her, the sighs and moans were still coming.
In her own bed, there’d be no such sounds.
Damn it. “Griffin.”
He went still.
“I lied,” she whispered to his broad shoulders. “I ache. Kissing you made it worse.”
He let out a long breath. She knew because his shoulders sagged, just a little, and then he turned to face her.
Coming back with his long-legged stride, he lifted a hand to stroke her jaw.
“Lyndie.” He closed his eyes, then opened them on hers.
“When we’re just playing, teasing…that I can handle.
I can handle it because I know if I tried to take you right now, you’d probably run. ”
No. No, she wouldn’t. She would reach for him right back, screw pride. She’d let him do whatever he wanted to her if only to assuage this ache he’d placed between her legs, behind her ribs. But hell if she’d admit that. “Yeah. I’d run.”
“It’s freeing to know it. It’s freeing to understand this is all just a game, a temporary distraction from why I’m really here, because if it’s not…” He touched her arm, ran his fingers up to her shoulder, then slowly shook his head, letting his hand fall from her. “Then I can’t do this. I…can’t.”
“Why?” she heard herself ask, then wanted to crawl in a hole. Or do as she’d promised and run. “No, I take that back, I don’t want to know why—”
He put his fingers over her mouth. “When I want, Lyndie, I tend to want for the long haul. Do you know what I mean?”
“Yeah.” She paled, she could feel it. Long haul. Two bad words in her book.
He nodded grimly. “I can see you’re not the long-haul type.”
“No.”
“Then you want to do as you said, Lyndie, and run. Because I’m screwed up, but not so much so that I wouldn’t risk my heart, and enjoy very much teaching you how to risk yours.”
Her stomach dropped and quivered at the same time, and not having a glib answer or any retaliation for that at all, she did as he’d suggested and ran.
Lyndie ended up using the creek that night after all, with only the occasional cry of a coyote or the hoot of an owl for company. It was quiet and dark, and the water felt cold, which worked.
Griffin’s words echoed in her head…the ones about being willing to teach her to risk her heart. That was the last thing she wanted or needed.
But God, she was lonely.
It’d been a long time since she’d felt this way, maybe since her school days, a time when her grandfather had usually been busy with his work late into the night, regretfully leaving her alone more often than not.
Back then she hadn’t had anyone to turn to for company, not even a pet.
Pets required a stable home life, something they hadn’t had.
She’d gotten used to that, having only herself, and rarely even gave it a thought anymore.
But she was thinking now. She splashed in the water and thought of Griffin. By his own admission, he was screwed up. She didn’t know his past, only that he’d clearly faced something horrific, tragic. A loss.
And yet he’d have been willing to risk all again and be with her tonight.
She’d faced losses in her life too. And she wasn’t willing to risk her heart again, no matter how good a teacher he was.
She didn’t like what that said about her, but there was no denying it. Griffin scared her. He was different, and while that was an attraction, it also required a good amount of distance. It would have to be a mental distance, of course, but she was good at that, real good.