I smiled. “Art. I really dislike painting walls. I mean, I’ll do it, and I love the result, but damn, that job requires the kind of discipline and attention I don’t have in me.”
His eyes narrowed on me. “What does that mean?”
Passing him his coffee, I explained, “I’m more of a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kinda girl. I make shit up as I go, and love spontaneity. Painting a wall requires doing a job in a particular way and not missing any steps, you know? Steps annoy me. I don’t want steps.”
Amusement flickered in his eyes and a faint smile touched his lips. He drank some coffee and then said, “Steps are a necessary evil a lot of the time.”
I held my coffee in both hands and shook my head. “Yeah…no. I’d rather live in Sophia world – there’s no steps there,” I said with a wink.
He caught my wink and stilled. I almost expected him to shut down on me because it seemed to be his thing whenever he stilled like that, but he surprised me. “Tell me about Sophia world.”
“What do you want to know?”
“What do you do for a living?”
“Graphic design. I design business logos and branding mostly, but I’ve been doing it for about five years now, and I think I’m getting to the point where I need a change. And the company I work for are a bunch of assholes who make us work overtime with no pay, and that sucks.”
“What type of work would you prefer?”
“I would love to paint for a living, and no, I don’t mean the wall variety of painting,” I said with a smile. “God, can’t you just imagine travelling the world painting all the amazing things you see? My dream has always been to get paid to make art, but realistically, I’d still do graphic design, just for a different company.”
He watched me in a way that made me nervous – it was like his eyes were undressing my soul, trying to figure something out. I waited for him to say something but he didn’t. He drank the rest of his coffee and moved to the sink to rinse his mug out. Turning back to me, he said, “I’ve gotta get to work.”
My heart sunk a little. I didn’t know what I’d expected; I mean, he’d made it clear he was only interested in one night, but a part of me had hoped if he had his night, he’d find something that made him come back for more. I’d hoped
for more this morning, and when he’d asked me about my work, I’d gotten my hopes up.
I couldn’t fault him, though. I knew the score.
“Okay,” I said, and watched as he left me to go and get dressed.
God, he was such a complex man. Sex with him had been like no other sex I’d ever had. He’d been so bossy and intense in a way that turned me on more than I’d ever been turned on in my life, but there’d been something else there – something I wasn’t sure of. He’d told me he was close to losing control, and I wondered what that actually meant. The look in his eyes had scared me a little, but at the same time, I felt completely safe with Griff, so it was like one big contradiction.
I want to know everything about him.
I headed into my bedroom where he’d gone and found him sitting on the side of the bed putting his boots on. “Do you want to have a shower?”
He glanced at me, a strange look in his eyes. “I’m good.”
“How about breakfast? I can’t let you go to work hungry. How about I cook you some bacon and eggs? Or an omelette, or pancakes… I’ve got the ingredients for all those so it wouldn’t be a problem. You choose.” I stared at him, waiting for his reply, my belly alight with butterflies under his gaze.
He didn’t speak straight away, but rather finished putting his boots on and then stood. “You knew what this was,” he said. “And it was never going to involve breakfast.”
Disappointment speared my heart, but it was all my fault because he was right. I’d known it wouldn’t be a sex-and-breakfast night.
Shit. Why had I broken my one-night stand rule?
Because you thought you could change him.
I’d deluded myself. Griff wasn’t the kind of man a woman changed.
I took a step back. “Yeah, you’re right,” I finally said.
He watched me for a few moments and then nodded, as if he’d made up his mind about something.
And then he walked out of my house without a second glance.
And I crawled onto my bed and curled up into a ball, accepting that I’d brought this upon myself, but still letting the hurt wash through me.