Page 41 of A False Start
I tossed the wordfriendin everywhere I could, as well as emphasizing our age difference a few times. It didn’t stop my dad from whispering in my ear when he gave me a parting hug. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”
Fuckin’ dick. So, I poked him in the stomach. “Getting soft, old man.”
Then my mom went from whispering something in Nadia’s ear to piping up and saying, “Hardly.”
Gag.That was my cue to leave. I latched Tripod to his leash with one hand and grabbed Nadia’s bicep with the other and dragged us all out of there, tossing a promise to visit again soon over my shoulder.
I always look forward to visiting with my parents, but I haveneverbrought any woman home with me, and I severely underestimated their ability to play it cool.
We stand silently at the bank of elevators, and I watch the floor numbers light up as it speeds toward us. Nadia slants her head toward me, eyeing the place where I’m still holding her bicep.
Truth is, I don’t want to let her go. I’m comforted by how well she rolled with the punches in there. My parents were acting fucking insane, and she seemed like she was enjoying the hell out of it.
“That’s a firm grip you’ve got there.” Her eyes flick up to my profile because I’m still trying not to look at her. “Am I in trouble, Mr. Sinclaire?”
“Nadia.” My tone is full of warning. It makes me sound old and creepy when she calls meMr. Sinclaire.
“What?” She stares openly now and when those elevator doors slide open, I pull her into the blissfully empty elevator with me, eager to put as much space as possible between my parents and what I’m about to do.
She hums in amusement as the doors slide shut, clearly enjoying agitating me.
The minute the doors close, my hand with the leash darts out and slams into the red emergency stop button. And then I turn, drop the leash, and press Nadia up against the mirrored wall of the elevator, one hand still on her upper arm while the other slides across the taper of her waist. Her eyes widen, but she doesn’t cower. In fact, she looks downright pleased.
“What, Griffin?” she taunts as my jaw pops under the pressure of my teeth grinding.
This woman tests every piece of patience I possess. I should step away from her, take my hands off her. I should keep this side of myself under wraps from her.
She’s been roughed up enough in her life. The last thing she needs is me man-handling her. And I would manhandle the hell out of her. She’d love it. There’s no doubt about that. I’ve had no complaints in that department. Quite the opposite, in fact. But gentle I am not.Making loveI don’t do.
“Say it.” Her free hand lands on the waistband of my jeans, and my body goes tense. She slides her dainty fingers beneath the front of my shirt, trailing a nail over the ridge of my hip bone, forcing a low ache to take hold at the base of my spine.
If I don’t get control of this and stop it now, I’ll be fucking her against the wall of this elevator. Which is not what she needs.
I shoot back like I just touched a hot stove, pressing myself against the opposite wall, trying to put as much space between us as I can while being locked in this fucking box of temptation. My breathing comes in quick frustrated pants. “Call my dad and me Mr. Sinclaire within a few minutes of each other again and—”
“And what, Griffin? You gonna spank me for that, too?” Her top teeth press down into her pillowy bottom lip. “Or are you going to kiss me again and then tell me I’m a mistake?”
A low rumble takes root in my chest. My entire body is rigid, my will to stay away from her melting with every second I spend staring at her. The imprint of her fingers still burns on my abs.
I need to get the fuck away from her. The last thing I need to do is torpedo what little semblance of happiness I’ve created in my life by not being able to keep my dick in my pants around Nadia Dalca.
My hand slams into the red button, and we lurch back into motion.
14
Nadia
Griffin Sinclaire is a prick.
Hot and cold. Left and right. Full steam ahead and full stop. I don’t know what’s up or down with that man. And I’m fed the fuck up. Which is why I stormed up to my apartment and hit send on that vet school application. I almost missed the late deadline. I’m probably not getting in, but I did it all the same.
I almost feel bad for my horse with how hard I’m brushing his coat, but based on the way his eyes are drooping, he isn’t concerned. My fingers itch to pour every thought and emotion out into my journal. There are a lot of rude names for Griffin in there already, and I wonder if I can get even more creative with my name-calling later tonight.
My desire to hang out anywhere near Griffin’s guesthouse was low. I journaled and scarfed a tuna sandwich and then forced myself to come over here while it was still light out because I’m a good horse owner, and Horse needs his leg cold-hosed and his daily dose of too many apples. I want to give him all the love he didn’t get before, which means showing up every day and proving to him I’m in this for the long haul.
“He told me once was an accident, but twice would be a mistake. Me. A mistake. Can you believe that?” I scrub the brush in a circular motion over the slope of his shoulder down over his chest. He might be tied to the fence post, unable to go anywhere, but he’s also a good listener.
“And then he takes me to his parents’ house? Why? That’s what I want to know. But apparently, we’re back to the silent treatment now. So, in the dark is where I stay.”
