Almost Married

She’d thought so too when she’d moved to town a few years before. “It would. You don’t miss the city life?”

“It’s fun when you’re younger,” he replied. “I mean, there’s always stuff to do. But if I was married with kids, I’d like to raise them in a small town like this.”

“Me too.” They smiled at each other, and something about the tender look in his eyes told her it could happen for them. And for the first time in a long time, she felt hopeful about the future.

Now she parked in front of her place and noticed a black sedan with tinted windows parked across the street. It didn’t look like one of her neighbor’s cars. Griff’s limo pulled up behind her. She waited for him to get out.

“Friend of yours?” she asked, pointing across the street.

He shrugged. “I don’t know anyone in Clover Park except you.”

She tried to see through the front windshield of the strange car, but couldn’t make out anyone. She turned and headed to the front door of the house, unlocking it. She went up the stairs to her apartment ahead of him, feeling sure he was checking out her ass. At least her skirt covered her decently. She glared at him over her shoulder as she caught him doing exactly what she suspected.

“What?” he asked in the voice of the innocent. His eyes sparkled mischievously.

“You know what.”

He chuckled. She let him in and sat on the far end of the sofa, hugging a pillow, waiting for him to talk. He took his time, peeling off his leather jacket to reveal a snug black T-shirt. His muscular arms were covered in tattoos. He'd only had one tattoo when she'd known him—a heart on his bicep with her name in it. She checked. It was still there.

“I thought you'd have that one removed,” she said, pointing to her name.

He gave her a slow once-over from her hair to her chest covered by the pillow and down her legs. Her irritation grew as his gaze slowly dragged back up, lingering on her mouth before flicking to her eyes. “Now why would I do that? You're my wife.”

“Oh, and how does that go over with your groupies?” she sniped.

He took his time answering. She watched while he made himself comfortable on her sofa. Her cat, Loki, hissed and jumped off the sofa, then stalked from the room.

He spread his arms across the top of the cushions, taking up all the space. “It keeps away who I want it to keep away. My long-lost wife who still holds my heart.” He patted the cushion next to him. “Come over here.”

“No.”

“Come on, Steph. I only bite if you say pretty please.”

She threw the pillow at him. He laughed and slid over next to her.

“How've you been, darlin'?” he crooned, stroking a lock of her hair, his warm fingers grazing her neck.

She snatched her hair back. “Don't pull this crap with me. This isn't a seduction scene. I'm not one of your groupies. I—”

“That's right, Stephanie Moore-Huntley, you're my wife.” His voice was low and husky, and she refused to be drawn in again.

She blew out an exasperated breath. “Griff, I met someone. I need to be single again. He doesn’t like that I’m still married.”

He stretched out his leather-clad legs. “Sounds like a conservative dweeb.”

“He's not. Dave's wonderful. So sweet. A perfect gentleman.” She found herself smiling, thinking of Dave.

Griff gave her a disbelieving look. “So you just expect me to step aside and let this wuss take my place.”

“Stop calling him names. He treats me right. I love him.”

Griff sat up straight. “You're serious, aren't you?”

“Yes!”

Does he think this whole divorce thing is some kind of ploy to get his attention?

He looked hurt. “I came back here hoping to give us another chance.”

She felt like grabbing him by the hair and shaking him. “We haven't lived together in five years.”

“It's been that long? Huh.” He stared off in the distance, thinking as hard as his pea brain could. “I want to meet him.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

“I want to meet the man who's taking my place.”

“That's ridiculous.”

“I've got until Saturday before I have to be back in L.A. for a gig. Tell Dave I want to meet him, and then I'll sign the papers.” He smiled smugly.