Page 33 of Tangled Kisses
As if he senses it, Griffin clears his throat, his gaze dipping before he speaks again. “I’m sorry if my compliments make you uncomfortable. I just think it’s about time you saw yourself the way others do.”
My chest tightens, the sting sharper than any needle in my hand. I can’t remember the last time anyone said something like that. Maybe no one ever has.
“No one’s ever seen anything in me.” The words fall from my lips before my brain can stop them.
His answer is immediate, low and reverent. “You’re wrong. I knew you were uncanny the second I laid eyes on you.”
The words slip beneath my stoic facade, pressing against the wounds my heart still carries.
I fumble with the vials, pretending to be busy, because if I look at him right now, I’ll shatter.
Griffin watches me for a beat, then—mercifully—changes direction. “My band, you know the guys I jam with? We’re playing down at the bar Friday night. You should come.”
“That sounds like fun. Hopefully, Piper can go with me.”
There’s that smile again. Every single time, it turns me on my head. “What’s your favorite song? I’ll play it for you.”
“What kind of music do you play?”
Griffin leans against the doorframe, that dimpled grin once again taking center stage as his curly hair falls into his eyes. “Take a wild guess.”
“I’m not too familiar with country music, aside from the pop crossovers, so you probably don’t have my song in your rotation.”
“Try me.”
I hesitate, then shrug, my fingers fussing with the edge of the intake folder on my desk. “Honestly? Van Morrison is my all-time favorite. Do you know his music?”
He chuckles low, twirling the brim of his hat between his hands. “Of course. Everyone knows Van Morrison.Brown Eyed Girl, right?”
I laugh, shaking my head. “I love that one, but it’s not my favorite.”
“Oh yeah? What is?”
“It’s a toss-up,” I admit. “If I want to dance, it’sBright Side of the Road. But if I want to slow dance…” My voice drops to a whisper. “…then it’sCrazy Love.”
Griffin’s gaze locks onto mine, heat flickering in those stormy eyes. His thumb rubs along the crown of his hat, slow and restless. His voice drops, rougher than before. “Good choices.”
My stomach flips.
Stop it, Reese. Keep it on the straight and narrow.
“I’ll learn one for you,” he says finally.
I wave him off, though my pulse is hammering. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to.” His smile turns softer, almost reverent. “With you, I want to do everything.”
Emotions lodge in my throat. His words are too much and yet, they spark something deep inside me all the same.
I swallow hard, trying to reel us back to safer ground. “The flowers are beautiful, Griffin. He never got me flowers.”
His jaw shifts, his voice lowering until it’s almost a confession. “Beautiful, he never did a lot of things for you. All I know is when I’m around you, I want to try.”
My breath falters. He shouldn’t say things like that. He can’t mean them. And yet…
I drag my hands up to cover my face, trying to hide from the weight of his words. “How do you always know the right thing to say? Is it just practiced? Or is it?—”
Heat spreads across my fingers as he gently tugs my hands away, holding them in his. His palms are broad, rough-edged, and so comforting—just like yesterday when he first held my hand.
