“All ready,” she said, holding up her purse.
“Call me when you get home,” Dave said. “We’ll have dinner.” Then he bent her over his arm to kiss her long and deep. She heard Griff mutter a curse, but Dave wasn’t done reminding her she was his. Finally, he let her back up, his eyes burning into hers.
Griff had stepped out into the hallway, his back to them.
She smoothed her hair, a little breathless. “I’ll call you.”
He grunted his approval. She turned, and he smacked her ass on the way out. She yelped.
“Mine,” he growled.
Her cheeks flushed over the testosterone-fueled posturing, even as she felt herself go damp.
“Yours,” she muttered over her shoulder before heading out the door with her husband.
~ ~ ~
The silence stretched awkwardly between Steph and Griff on the limo ride to Horizon Village. She knew Dave hadn’t helped matters, but at least he and Griff hadn’t gotten physical. Steph sat on the far edge of the long wraparound bench seat from Griff. He stretched out his long legs, leaned his head back, and put his aviator shades on. She studied him for a few minutes as his breathing deepened. He was still clean-shaven. He reminded her a little of Dave now with his squeaky clean good looks.
Griff appeared to be sleeping. She was tired too. Dave woke her up twice last night with a rumbled “mine” in her ear as his hands and mouth staked his claim. Not that she minded, but she was tired, and it was a two-hour drive. She curled up on her side on the long bench seat and fell asleep.
She woke to the feel of someone stroking her hair, and she snuggled into the warm lap her head was now resting on. Her mother always used to stroke her hair to wake her. Slowly she opened her eyes to find Griff gazing down at her.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” he said.
She scrambled to sit upright. “What happened? How long was I sleeping? Where are we?”
“Chill. You slept for an hour and a half. We’re almost there.”
She shifted a little further away from him and smoothed her hair. “How did I get my head in your lap?”
He chuckled. “I just let you rest your head on my leg as a pillow. You’re the one that shifted into more interesting parts.”
“Griff!” she snapped, but that was as far as she got before he kissed her. It was a tender kiss that her body remembered even as her mind rebelled. She pushed on his chest, and he leaned back on the seat. “Don’t.”
“Did you feel something?” he asked.
She shook her head quickly to deny it. “No.”
“I did.” He studied her a moment. “You’re lying. I know you, Steph. We’ve always had chemistry.”
“I’ve got that plus more with Dave,” she said. Dave offered stability, faithfulness, and, one day she hoped, a family they’d raise together. He’d make a wonderful father. Griff could never match that.
He took her hand and held it warmly between his. She tried to pull it back, but he wasn’t letting go.
“When we first met,” he said, “I had nothing. Just a tiny apartment I shared with Henry and Jake.”
She remembered. That closeness between him and his bandmates probably contributed to their great work together musically.
He squeezed her hand and spoke in earnest. “I can give you so much more now. Whatever you want. I have a beach house in Laguna Beach, a house in Aspen, we could get one in Clover Park. You could join me on tour in the summer when you’re off from work. We could have kids like you always wanted.”
Her heart ached hearing those words from him now. Kids. One of the things they'd fought about just before his band hit big. Her wanting them, him not wanting them.
“And the kids would see you when?” she asked. More of a rhetorical question than anything else. She wouldn’t be having Griff’s children.
He held out his palms, releasing his hold on her hand. “Whenever they liked. We could get a nanny and a tutor, total freedom. You wouldn't have to work another day in your life.”
An offer some women would jump at. Just not her. “That's not what I want. I love teaching. I want to raise my kids in a small town like Clover Park with a dad that's there for them day in and day out for tying shoelaces and packing lunches and bedtime stories—everything. Someone to teach them and love them.”