Page 38 of A False Start
“If your ass looks better in jeans or those tights you wore to play football. There was a side-by-side photo and everything.”
I stop, forcing a smirk off my face. This girl cracks me up. “And what did the 82% choose?”
She grins. “Jeans. Definitely jeans.”
I scoff and shake my head as her eyes trail down me. I yank my hand off her back and knock on the door before delivering a blow of my own. “Ready to meet my parents?”
I smirk at the wide-eyed, uncertain expression Nadia is giving me now. It’s a dead ringer for the one she was sporting when she watched me blow a load into my shirt with her name on my lips. I think we’re both just pretending that never happened. Which works for me.
She smooths her palms down over the blouse shirt she’s wearing. “Seriously?” She leans in and hisses at me.
She’s nervous. Unlike the dog, who is still wiggling under my arm, pulling toward her and settling for licking the air close to her face.
Me too, pal. Me fucking too.
Even nervous, Nadia is breathtakingly beautiful. Visually, she appears young, yes. But when I look into her eyes—really look into them—her soul stares back. And that part of her holds a wisdom, a weariness, beyond her years.
I’ve fixated on the years that stretch between us. The number of them. But her years have been filled with a lot more pain and suffering than most women her age.
The more time I spend with her, the more I’m struck by the fact she doesn’tfeellike a twenty-one-year-old. Which is a dangerous fucking realization.
The door swings open, and my mother’s happy squeal follows. “Griffin!”
She’s already smiling when her eyes land on me. Then her gaze finds the dog, and I swear I can see cartoon hearts floating up from above her head.
When she turns her attention to Nadia, I realize I’ve made a grave mistake. Her coiffed dark bob tilts with her head, sweeping against the bright yellow shirt she’s wearing.
I swear those hearts in her eyes turn to fucking wedding bells.
“Hi, Mom.” I grimace, trying to take control of this situation as early as possible.
“Griffy, who have we got here?”
She looks like that creepy goddamn Cheshire Cat, staring at Nadia and the dog. Like I just walked up to her with a ready-made family.
Mistake, mistake, mistake.
“You know my best friend, Stefan? This is his sister, Nadia. She’s a t-t-tech at the vet c—office and has been taking care of him.” I hold the three-legged dog out to my mom, trying not to fixate on how nervous this meeting is suddenly making me. I’m stumbling over my words like a total idiot. “My new dog,” I clarify.
Fuck. That clears nothing up at all.
“Nadia, this is my mom, Joan.”
My mother takes the dog into her arms and smiles down at him, letting him lick her chin like the excited little spaz that he is. “Well, this is just lovely. Come on in, you two.” And then she spins on her heel, swaggering far too happily into the condo, all windows and patio space that opens up onto the golf course.
We step in through the door, and Nadia nudges her slender shoulder up against mine. “Griffy.” Her eyes dance with amusement, and I groan. All I wanted to show Nadia is that plenty of people have lasting, healthy relationships. It’s not as rare as she thinks, and my parents are an excellent example. I was trying to be nice for once.
She drops her voice and her breath fans out over my neck as she leans in close. “We kissedonce. Don’t tell me you’re so wholesome that you think you need to introduce me to your parents now.”
I can’t help but chuckle and shake my head as I shuck off my boots.Wholesome.Don’t think I’ve ever been accused of that. I lean back in close to her, using my height to tower above her. I don’t touch her, but I drop in close enough to her ear that I could press my lips against her easily. Desire courses through me. The way she smells is a constant reminder of that one kiss. My brain has created a pathway based on that smell alone.
I’m fucking Pavlov’s dog.
“Call me Griffy again, and I’ll spank you like the little brat that you are.” The words are out before I can stop myself. They’re suspended between us, and I wish I could grab them and shove them back in.
Nadia doesn’t look as mortified as me. In fact, her warm brown eyes are downright molten. “I’ll keep that in mind, Mr. Sinclaire.”
And then she fucking winks at me before waltzing down the hallway into my parent’s home. “I love your condo, Joan. What a beautiful view.”
