Page 25 of Lessons in Heartbreak

I took a small step closer and tapped the front cover, a clean, musky scent coming from Griffin that had me dipping my head slightly. “It follows four men through the war and after. They were in the same unit.” His eyes met mine. “One of them was a former football player. He was the first American to win every award for valor.”

“Brave man,” he said, sliding his hand under the book, his fingers brushing lightly against my own. “You think I’ll learn something from him?”

I snapped my arm away once the book was in his grasp, my fingers tingling ominously. “We can always learn something from the things we read or watch or listen to. But we have to be open to it, willing to apply it to our lives.”

He hummed, flipping through the pages. “Three books, huh? Maybe I can finish them before the season starts.”

The self-deprecating comments weren’t lost on me, and I found myself studying his facial expression now, allowing myself the slightest of risks that he might notice too.

“If you like it, I can recommend some others. I’m sure you’ll finish them in no time.”

Griffin transferred the books under his arm into his hands, then straightened to his full height, his eyes moving over my face. “When you seeing him again?”

I blinked. “Tonight, I think. He suggested drinks so we can ... talk.”

“Just drinks?”

I nodded slowly. “I don’t really drink, though, so it will probably be a short meeting.”

Griffin glanced over my shoulder, down the aisle, and I could practically see the wheels turning in his head. When his gaze met mine again, decisiveness was bright in his eyes.

It was almost unbearable, how attractive it was on him.

“Come to my place afterwards,” he said, voice low and urgent.

“What? No.”

“Why not?” He leaned his shoulder against the bookshelf again, biting down briefly on his bottom lip. “Let me show my appreciation for the book recommendations.”

“I only recommended one of them; if the other two are terrible, it’s not my fault.”

His brief grin was devastating, and I felt it tug at the hairs on the back of my neck. “Then let me thank you for one book recommendation. I’ll make you some dinner. I’m a terrible cook, it’ll be fun.”

Suspicion had my eyes narrowing. “You’re not trying to sleep with me, are you?”

Griffin’s face went blank with shock. “What? No. I’m just trying to catch up with an old friend, that’s all.”

“‘Oldfriend’?” I asked skeptically.

“Fine. An old ... neighbor. Former neighbor,” he corrected. “You’re definitely not old.”

Wearily, I rubbed at my forehead. “I feel old. Don’t you?”

“Sure as fuck ain’t feeling any younger.” He leaned in, and I got a whiff of that scent again. Sandalwood; crisp, clean air; something ... spicy and wonderful. “Come on,” he urged. “My agent’s house is obnoxious, and I haven’t been able to show it off to anyone.”

I glanced at the front of the library and saw Kenny practically falling off his chair trying to watch us. My eyes fell closed and I sighed.

“Think of what a good story it will be.” He spoke closer to my ear this time, and the rough, gravelly sound of it yanked goose bumps along the lengths of my arms, and boy, did I curse their existence.

It was so easy for someone like him.

There was the height and the smile and the stubble.

The jaw.

Don’t even get me started on the muscles. When you added in his weekly paycheck, it was enough to curse the heavens for discriminatory practices against the rest of us.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to go to his place, just so that I had a legitimate excuse if the drinks were a disaster. I was the world’s worst liar. My right eye always did this little twitching thing that was impossible to miss.

---