Page 22 of Baring it All (Men in Charge)

“Thanks.” I’ve got a reusable bag with our dinner. One thing I’ve come to realize is Griff isn’t big on cooking unless it’s on a grill. Chicken, steak, pork chops, or burgers, he’s got it covered. Sides are not, or anything having to do with the oven. He knows how to cook but prefers it to be outdoors. One day, when I’m out of debt, I’ll bring up an idea on building an outdoor kitchen off the back patio. I needed an easy and quick meal for tonight—lemon butter chicken with asparagus cooked in the same pan helped cut down on time. I paired it with rice, and dinner was done in less than forty-five minutes, long enough to change out of my work clothes, feed Finn, and take him for a short walk.

I open the door that leads upstairs, a pep in my step, more than ready to see Griff. I’m at his door in no time, hitting the digits of the keypad he gave me the first night, and I’m opening his door.

“Surprise!” I hold up the bag. Griff had no idea I was coming by tonight. Our schedules are passing at best. Sometimes I get to see him for a quick kiss, others he’s already here, and then there’s nights like tonight.

“Fuck, you’re a sight for sore eyes.” He stands up from his seat behind his desk, making quick work until he’s to me.

“Everything okay?” There’s tension in his eyes, the crinkles showing he’s got something going on he hasn’t shared.

“Yeah. Had to deal with fucking inventory, and then the report was finished up from the incident. I’ve been on the phone more than I’d have liked,” he says tensely. He told me how everything went down. My mouth was open, and I was gasping because it could have been so much more. A concussion, drowning, my mind went into overdrive with the ideas running through it.

“And what did they have to say?” He drops a kiss to my mouth, hand going to my hip, holding me in place as he takes my lips with his. The man has a wicked way with his mouth, hands, and body. I’m left breathless while he’s standing with a smirk on his face.

“Smith is being charged with working under the influence, some kind of upper, and the racing company is looking to press charges. They asked if I wanted to do the same.”

“And are you?” I ask. I’d throw the damn book at this Smith character. He could have killed Griff along with many others.

“Yep, which means if this goes to a trial, I’ll have to travel,” he states nonchalantly.

“Then I guess I’ll be going with you. Now, are you ready for dinner?” I’m hoping our food is still warm. If not, we’ll have to microwave it, which isn’t a big deal. Everyone knows that re-heating food isn’t the same, though.

“More than ready. You want a water or something else?”

“Water. No caffeine, or I’ll never sleep. I did that earlier this week, and you remember what happened.” It took two rounds of sex to tire me out. Him taking me from behind and the other with me riding him, reverse cowgirl style. A shiver runs through my body remembering just how much Griff was more than up for the occasion. Except I felt bad the next morning when I was getting out of bed and he got up with me.

“You think I’m opposed to that happening again? I’ve got news for you, baby girl. Anytime you need your daddy, I’m more than ready.” And there go my thighs, clenching together, trying to quelch the need he creates.

“Dinner first, then maybe we’ll have time for that.” I wink and walk toward the couch in his office. The coffee table makes a great impromptu place for eating, and I go about setting out our dinner while Griff grabs our drinks.

The phone rings on his desk. “Goddamn it, the fucking thing won’t quit today.” I laugh. Griff really isn’t a phone person. Calls and texts are short and to the point.

“Hello.” His tone is gruff. “What the fuck do you mean they’re here and Jack is with them?” Griff pauses. “I’m going to lose my shit on them, Jack included.” Another pause. “Yeah yeah, we’re fucking coming.” He slams down the phone, missing the cradle it’s held in, so he slams it again until it finally sits in its resting place.

“Bad news?” I ask. No longer am I unpacking our food. It’ll stay warmer in the bag with its insulated layer.

“The fucking worst. Zach, Melissa, and Jack are downstairs. So much for Jack giving me more of a heads-up. Fuckin’ dickhead.” He runs his hand through his hair, and my thighs clench together at the way his arm muscles flex and his shirt gives way to his stomach. His jeans are sitting low on his hips, and I want nothing more than to trail my tongue until I meet the front of his pants. “Apparently, they want to have some kind of fucking Kumbaya meeting. Jesus, don’t they know this is a business, not Grand Central Station?” The look he gives me tell me he liked what he saw. Too bad it can’t go further. Stupid people and their stupid timing. I get up from the couch. My feet eat up the distance until I’m in front of him. I place my hand over his heart, trying to calm him down.

“Come on, let’s get this show on the road, so maybe it’ll finally be closed once and for all.” Griff’s hand immediately goes to the back of my head, knees dipping so we’re on eye level.

“I’m about tired of people trying to hurt my woman, Stormy. This is the last damn time I’m dealing with them. It happens again, I’m busting heads together.” I grin. He’s in over protective mode, and it only makes me fall in love with him more.

“That’s a deal.” My lips go to his, kissing him quickly. It seems we’re going to face the two people I have no want, will, or desire to, but such is life in a small town. Maybe they’ll run away together, forever, and we’ll never have to see them again. I mean, it would be bad for Jack, but it would be great for everyone else. Okay, fine, it would be freaking amazing for me at least.

27

GRIFFIN

“You’re shitting my dick,” I grumble when my eyes clock the idiots standing near the bar. Stormy giggles beside me, my hand on her lower back. Clearly, she’s not worried about these damn yahoos. For that I’m fucking grateful. I still see the weight of a few things in her every now and then. Mainly when we talk about money, her trying to pay for more than I think she should, her getting pissy, stomping her foot, and me using my mouth to shut her up.

“Let’s get this over with. It can’t be that bad, right?” she replies to my verbal annoyance. It seems others are more pissed on her behalf than she is. Barbie’s arms are crossed over her chest, and she’s staring daggers at the trio, Jack included.

“You never know with this bunch.” She shrugs her shoulders. I kiss the top of her head. I’m attempting to calm my anger with the scent of her shampoo, coconut and vanilla. It’s not helping, though. The only thing that will is getting these dumb fucks away from us.

“Hey, Griff, Stormy,” Jack greets us first. If he’s trying to break the ice, he could have given me an advance warning. I’d grab a beer and a bottle of tequila for Stormy. Alcohol is inevitably going to be needed.

“Hey, brother. Mel, Zach,” I grunt the last two names. Blood or not, Melissa helped create this shit storm. I’m not cutting her any fucking slack. Zach has his own issues, and I’m hopeful we won’t have to see the likes of him around ever again.

“Hi,”—Stormy pauses—“everyone.” Yeah, I feel the exact same fucking way. This could have been done out of the public eye, yet we’re not going to get that lucky. Jack moves behind the bar. Barbie glares at him. Some things never change.

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