Page 120 of Tangled Kisses
Pearl laughs, tossing her dark hair back. “Here and there. Still waiting for the right guy to come along and treat me like the queen I am.”
“Never settle.”
“Are you kidding? They have to make it past Griffin first.” She rests her elbows on the table, fixing me with her bright gaze. “He looks tired.”
“He’s been working a lot,” I admit. “The stables, construction. He’s stretched thin.”
“He left the other business, right?”
I pause, unsure how much Pearl knows about Griffin’s life as an escort. Look, I know they’re siblings and best friends, but even they must have some limits.
So, I opt for a safe answer.
“Yeah. He did.”
“Thank God. I was furious when I learned how he was earning money. He claimed it wasn’t physical, but come on, I wasn’t born yesterday. Still, he wouldn’t give it up. He has this crazy idea that he has to take care of me.” She rolls her eyes and chuckles. “I keep telling him I’m not going to break. Plus, I’ve got options. I’ve been talking to some banks, seeing about a loan. Maybe starting a bakery up here.”
“As talented as you are in the kitchen, that is a fabulous idea, but Griffin is always going to worry.” Without thinking, I cover her hand with mine. “There isn’t anyone on this planet your brother loves more than you. You’re everything to him.”
Her smile blooms again, soft and knowing. She squeezes my fingers. “I think I’ve got some competition for that number one spot now.”
My throat goes tight. Competition? If only she knew. With every little reminder—you’re special, he’s crazy about you—the ground shifts under me.
I’ve had food, water, rest. I’m sober now. And sober me knows better. This isn’t a fairytale. Whatever glow I feel from Pearl’s words, it’s smoke and mirrors, a trick I’m too old to keep falling for.
Because Idoknow what this is. Friends? Maybe. Pity? Probably. Griffin fucked me because my sister paid him to, and he’s kind enough not to say it outright. God, how do you come back from that?
It’s time to build distance, to stop letting myself ache for something that was never mine to begin with.
“Okay, we need to go.Now,” Griffin states, striding onto the patio. “Pearl, I love you, and I promise we’ll visit soon.” His energy’s different—amped up, wired, like he downed three cups of black coffee in the time he was gone.
“Everything okay?” I ask, not sure I want to know.
Especially when he chuckles and runs a hand over his beard. “Oh, it will be, Reese. Trust me on that.”
What the hell does that mean?
I hug Pearl and grab my purse. “Can I really come back to bake cookies?”
“Please,” Pearl replies. “We’ll make it a girl’s weekend. You’re always welcome here, Reese.”
But as Griffin steers me out of the condo, his hand clamped around my elbow, I doubt that sentiment entirely.
We’re barelyoff Pearl’s front walkway when my phone buzzes.
“Mom.” I groan, thumb hovering over decline. “Oh my God, give it a rest.”
Just like that, my headache roars back to life.
Before I can tuck the phone away, Griffin snatches it from my hand.
“Hey—!” I reach for it, but he holds it out of reach with maddening calm.
“Hello, Mrs. Callahan? This is Griffin. We haven’t met.” His tone is warm, smooth, the kind that makes people trust him instantly.
“Give it back,” I hiss, trying to grab it, but he simply plants his big palm against my forehead, holding me at bay. When I twist sideways, he snakes an arm around my waist and hauls me flush against him like I weigh nothing.
“Reese is okay,” he goes on, ignoring my struggle. “I promise. I’ve been looking out for her.”
