“Like I said, he’s the brains, I’m the muscle,” Ryan said.
“I did go to law school, remember? I know what those books weigh. And,” Griff said, looking his friend over, “you could use the workout.”
Chelsie tried and failed to suppress a grin. “Oh, shut up, both of you.” She shook her head. “Men.”
“I’m out of here. Next time another job’s too much for you, remember to call me.” Ryan bounded down the stairs.
“He’s a good friend,” Chelsie said as she pushed up her sleeves so she could begin the arduous task of unpacking.
“Like a brother.” Griff leaned against the wall and stared into the empty room. Chelsie winced at the word brother. But Griff seemed lost in thought, so she doubted he’d even noticed. “Ryan grew up next door to us. We’ve always been close. Even when Jared was alive, it was always the three of us.”
She nodded. She and her sister had grown up much the same way. With two fairly disinterested parents, they’d had no one to rely on but each other. Maybe that was what made the break in their relationship so difficult to bear. Chelsie had looked out for her sister in her own way, but phone calls and occasional lunches were pathetic in retrospect and provided little consolation now. In seeking to protect herself from further loss, Chelsie had deprived herself of even more.
With such a close bond between the brothers, Griff’s feelings of loss had to surpass her own.
“The day my mother ran off, Ryan told my Dad that we’d take care of Jared,” Griff said at last.
Chelsie held her surprise in check. If she disturbed his train of thought, he might not reveal any more. Despite her earlier admonitions to herself about satisfying her curiosity, she wanted to know this man in all the ways that counted.
When he remained silent, she spoke softly. “How old were you?” she asked.
“Twelve.”
Old enough to hurt, too young to comprehend. Her heart broke for the little boy who’d lost his mother and to this day probably didn’t understand why. She doubted even an adult could understand that kind of desertion. Many people prayed for the gift of bearing a child. This woman had thrown that away. “What happened?”
“She wanted more of some things, fewer of others.”
Chelsie’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
“More expensive trinkets. More money. More men.” His bitter, harsh laugh told her what he thought of that. “And fewer responsibilities. Fewer children, to be exact.”
If Griff was cynical, she now had an inkling why. “Why are you telling me this now?” Even as she asked, she feared she already knew.
Did he regret their change of status? Perhaps he’d decided the woman who’d sued him for custody at the behest of her wealthy parents was not to be trusted. Maybe he realized he’d had a lapse in judgment, but no more.
If so, she’d let him out gracefully, no matter how much it hurt. She’d had more than her own share of doubts about the partnership. In this case, grasping what little life offered might turn out to be a huge mistake. She braced herself for his excuses, promised herself she wouldn’t react, and mentally calculated whether she could get her office back from the tenant she had sublet it to.
“Today’s Jared’s birthday.”
“Oh.” She hadn’t been prepared for the admission. Without thinking, she walked over and took his hand, hoping to convey her feelings and her strength. “I’m sorry. You should have told me. We could have done this another time.”
He shrugged. “It’ll keep my mind off things,” he said in a gruff voice.
He didn’t want her gone. Relief warred with hurt over his pain, but she’d give him the distraction he desired. “Okay, then. Let’s get started.”
She headed for the first box, but he didn’t release his grasp and she found herself pulled against him. His arms came around her waist and she sucked in a deep breath of air. She tilted her head backwards to look at him.
Raw emotion etched his features. In his eyes, she saw pain so deep only someone who had been there could comprehend. But she also saw something more, something his body wouldn’t let her mistake. He held her flush against him, his erection pressing intimately against her.
“Griff. We have to work together. This is a mistake.”
He loosened his hold on her waist. “Then walk away.”
She ought to. He didn’t need her. He needed someone, anyone to chase away the pain and help him get through this day. She could be here for him now and he’d still leave her when he discovered the truth. So, go. But her feet wouldn’t move.
Her hand raised, seemingly of its own free will, to trace the tiny scar at the corner of his left eye. Once she touched him, it became too late to turn back.
His lips brushed hers. Without warning, he groaned and deepened the kiss, thrusting his tongue into her eager mouth. When he pulled her waist against him, she backed into the wall. The movement anchored her, enabling her pelvis to rock in synchronization with the expert movement of his tongue.