“It’s a public street. I can sit here if I want.”
Dave stalked off and called the cops. A short while later, a cop arrived, and Griffin took off. Frustratingly, when Dave had told Steph to file a restraining order with the cop, she’d refused.
They had words. Fighting words.
“Dave,” she said in an overly calm voice like he was an irrational child, “he won’t hurt me. He’s probably just writing music.”
“He’s obsessed with you.”
She shrugged. “He thinks I’m his muse. He’ll find a new muse and move on.”
He put his hands on his hips. “When?”
“Hopefully by Saturday when he leaves.”
Dave’s blood was pounding in his ears. He couldn’t believe Steph was so casual about Griffin basically stalking her. Was he supposed to just let the man sit out there every night watching the house?
“Fuck this,” he said. “You’re moving in with me.”
“I’m not going anywhere. I don’t understand why you’re so mad. He’s not dangerous.”
Then it hit him with a sudden clarity. “You want him around! You like being his muse!”
“I want him to move on.”
“Then file a restraining order!” he barked.
“No.”
He had to take a walk to calm down. Call it insecurity. Call it jealousy. Call it the fucking power of love, but from the moment Dave got back from that walk, he couldn’t keep his hands off Steph. Not as long as Griffin was still in the state of Connecticut.
As soon as he got back to Steph’s place after work, he had her in bed, where he reminded her exactly whose she was. He knew he was being overbearing and way too demanding, he simply couldn’t help himself. She didn’t push him away either, which only made him want more. He invaded her shower every morning, kept her in her Columbia sweatshirt with nothing else so he could easily take her again and again, even made her eat her meals straddling him, his cock buried deep inside her. He felt like a damn rutting beast.
He could not stop.
And that fucking car sat outside every night. Steph wouldn’t let him call the cops, which made him crazed, made him even more of a beast, until the car finally left.
Griffin never dared to come inside.
~ ~ ~
Griffin was out of time. It was Friday night, and he had to go back to L.A. for that concert tomorrow. Thousands of fans were waiting for him. The band was waiting for him. He parked in front of Steph’s house in his rental car. He’d gotten the press his manager wanted. Tons of tabloids and gossip websites had the picture of him and Steph smiling at each other outside the gas station, his arm around her shoulders. Mandy got the shot and headed back to L.A. Job done.
Someone had dug up pictures of him and Steph on their honeymoon in Hawaii too, and pictures and video from the first tour he’d done. Probably his publicist. The headlines “Griffin Huntley’s Secret Marriage,” “Secret Wife Revealed,” and “How Many Secret Wives are There?” with several of his lovers were just the boost that he’d needed. But instead of feeling satisfied, he just felt tired.
He was getting old. He wanted to stop all the touring. He missed the music. He missed his muse, Steph.
He knew Dave had spent the week at Steph’s place. It was his penance to know. He accepted that as fitting punishment for all the affairs he’d had. Now he and Steph were even. They could move on. He intended to bring Steph back with him tomorrow, one way or another. He wanted her to see him in concert, to see him at his best. The music would bring them together.
Besides, his lawyer had told him a divorce would financially ruin him.
He nearly jumped out of his skin when the passenger-side door opened and a petite woman with shoulder-length brown hair slid into the car. She turned to him. Shit. Dave’s sister—the insane woman that jumped him outside of that bar.
“You!” he exclaimed.
One corner of her mouth lifted. “Me!” she mocked. She set a six-pack of lite beer on the console. “I thought we’d have a car party, instead of a stalking. Sound good?”
She popped open a can of beer and took a sip.
“Get out of my car, crazy lady.”
She sipped her beer and eyed him with startlingly blue eyes. “Nope. Hey, let’s play a game.”