Page 121 of Tangled Kisses
I glare up at him, mouthingI hate you.
He glances down and hands me the phone with a smirk. “No, you don’t.”
I snatch it, shooting him a death glare, but he only chuckles and presses a quick kiss against my temple before sauntering off toward the truck.
“Stop glaring at me,” he calls over his shoulder. “Talk to your mom.”
I swear, he is my least favorite person right now.
Rolling my eyes, I bring the phone to my ear. “Hi, Mom.”
There’s a beat of silence. “Honey, who was that? Griffin, was it?”
“Yes,” I mutter, heat creeping up my neck. “He’s… a friend.”
“Well, he sounds just lovely. I’m glad you have someone like that looking out for you.”
“Yeah, he’sreallyhelpful.” I glance toward the truck where Griffin now sits, his gaze steady on me through the windshield.
“Reese, why didn’t you tell me how bad it was with Vander?”
My steps falter. The sidewalk, the sounds of town, everything falls away. I expected her to say a ton of things about my situation, but I never thought she’d see anything from my side.
I throw up a hand, helpless. “I don’t know, because I thought that life was what you wanted. The house, the country club, the?—”
“I don’t give a damn about the country club.” Her voice breaks, trembling but fierce. “They’re pretentious pricks. I wanted my daughter safe. Happy. And you were neither.”
Tears slip down my cheeks. “I wasn’t, Mom. I just didn’t want to disappoint you.”
“Sweetheart, you’ve never disappointed me a day in your life.” Her voice softens. “We love you.”
I close my eyes, swallowing hard. “I love you too.”
“Now stop avoiding my phone calls,” she teases, the warmth slipping back into her voice.
“Promise,” I sniffle.
“Tell Griffin he’s doing a great job.”
Yet another woman he’s charmed in under thirty seconds.
The man really is the stuff of legends.
“I will.”
We hang up, and I drag in a shaky breath, swiping at my eyes as I slide into the passenger seat.
Griffin doesn’t say anything right away—he just reaches over, thumb brushing the wetness from under my lashes with the gentlest touch. “You feel better?”
I nod, voice hoarse. “I needed that.”
For a second, it looks like he might say more—his jaw working, his gaze steady—but he swallows it down.
He studies me for a long moment, then starts the engine. The low rumble fills the silence he refuses to break. “I know.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Reese
