WINSLOW
Griffin’s tongue swept inside my mouth, fluttering against mine before he broke away. Then he bent to pull on his boots.
I stood back, watching as he trapped his hair beneath the faded black baseball hat he’d been wearing last night. The ends I’d been toying with before he’d climbed out of my bed curled at his nape.
It took effort not to go to him. Not to run my hands up his wide chest and beg for one more kiss. But I stayed on the armrest of the couch because if this was going to work, boundaries were key.
“See ya around.” Griffin walked over and leaned in like he was about to kiss my forehead, but at the last second, pulled away, adjusting the brim of his hat.
I shouldn’t have been disappointed. Sweet gestures and forehead kisses weren’t part of this relationship. We were enjoying casual sex, nothing more.
Boundaries.
“Bye.” I followed him to the door and waited by the threshold as he went outside, his boots thudding on the porch stairs before he stepped onto the sidewalk, taking it with those long, easy strides.
Watching him walk away had become part of my daily routine.
He’d been coming here each night for a week. Each morning he’d leave before dawn and I’d wonder if he’d come back. Or if last night had been the last night.
Some nights, he’d come over early, not long after I’d gotten home from work. Other nights, it would be after dark and he’d find me unpacking a box. He’d interrupt my progress and carry me to the bedroom, which was why my living room was still full of cardboard and I continued living out of suitcases. The kitchen was unpacked, but little progress had been made elsewhere.
The sex was . . . distracting. Brilliantly distracting. This fling had no chance of lasting. So the boxes could wait until Griffin and I fizzled out.
He glanced over his shoulder as he rounded the hood of his truck, and even in the dark, I saw the sexy smirk on his lips. Yeah, he’d be back tonight.
I wasn’t the only one enjoying this.
Closing the door, I waited for the rev of his truck’s engine before retreating to my bedroom. The sheets were rumpled and his scent, spice and leather and earth, clung to the air. I’d fallen asleep to that smell last night as I’d lain on his chest, my body limp and utterly sated.
We’d gone wild last night. He’d worn me out so thoroughly, I hadn’t had a nightmare all week.
If this new bed of mine could talk, it would scream Oh, God, Griff. What was it about him that had made it so easy to shed my inhibitions?
With Skyler, I’d always felt reserved with sex. It had taken years to truly relax when we were in bed, and he hadn’t been the most creative lover.
Maybe it was different with Griffin because there were no strings. No pressure for a long-term commitment. Maybe because my own pleasure had become a priority. Maybe because Griffin made it a priority too.
Damn, that man. Griffin had a body built to please. His hands turned me into putty. His lips, a shivering mess. His cock, a wanton slave to his
command.
I smiled as I walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. The warm water soothed some of my aching muscles.
Since I’d moved to Quincy, I hadn’t gone on one of my regular morning runs. I hadn’t worked out, period, because sex had taken exercise’s place. Maybe tomorrow, if I had the energy, if Griffin didn’t keep me up until one or two, I’d find my tennis shoes and run a few miles through my neighborhood. Or maybe I could try out the small gym at the station. It wasn’t much more than an elliptical and a set of free weights, but a couple of the officers used it regularly. Maybe we could bond over cardio.
Doubtful, but at this point, I’d try anything.
After tossing in a load of laundry and reading through the case files I hadn’t last night—a drunken disorderly, a petty theft and a vandalism of a Santa display last Christmas—I headed to the station.
Officer Smith was ready and waiting at his station in the lobby to give me his standard cold welcome.
“Good morning, Officer Smith.” Nothing.
Asshole.
His first name was Tom, but he and I were sticking to last names. He seemed to hate me more and more with each passing day.
Eventually he’d have to get to know me, right? Maybe that attitude would thaw when he realized I was here for the long haul. Or . . . early retirement. He was getting a few more weeks to shape up, then I was pitching him an early retirement.
My desk was its usual disaster but I’d blocked off the morning to tidy up. I spent hours putting files away, going through emails and my long to- do list. And finally, by noon, the brownish gray wood was visible.
“I really need to do this at home.” Settle in. Clean up.
I swiveled my chair to the window at my back, taking in the forest beyond the glass.
The station was nestled between a grove of pine and fir trees, their trunks so wide I wouldn’t be able to wrap my arms around them. The branches provided a canopy over the building that kept the sun from streaming inside. I’d been so busy sinking into this job, I hadn’t spent time looking out the window.
A mistake I’d remedy in the future.
Like my quiet street under the moonlight, there was peace to be found in those trees.
Now that I was settling in, piecing together a routine, it was time to put my house in order so that when I walked through the door at night, I could simply breathe.
A knock at the door had me turning from the window.
“Whoa.” Pops’s eyes widened as he came into the office. “You’ve been busy.”
“Productive morning.” I smiled. “What are you doing here?” “Thought I’d invite my favorite chief of police to lunch.”
“Good, I’m starved. And afterward, I need to head to the courthouse.
Get my vehicle registration switched over. Change my driver’s license.” More steps to making this move official.
Once the Durango was registered, it would be in the garage the majority of the time. I’d been hesitant to use the former chief’s unmarked Explorer because it smelled like cigarettes, but after a thorough detailing, the stink was beginning to fade.
“Meet you downtown?” Pops asked. “Where to?”
“Eden Coffee.”
Griffin’s sister’s business. A spike of nerves hit, but I nodded and followed Pops out of the station. Like our last lunch date, we had to park off
Main and walk.
“It’s cute,” I said, taking in the green building.
Eden Coffee was emblazoned in gold letters on the coffee shop’s front door. The black-paned windows gleamed in the June sunshine. A chalkboard sandwich board stood on the sidewalk, the swirly lettering outlining today’s specials. Even from beyond the door, the scent of coffee, vanilla, sugar and butter filled my nose.
“Now I’m really hungry.”
“You haven’t been here yet?” he asked.
“I’ve been sticking to coffee at home or at the station.” Hoping a few encounters with the officers in the break room would give us a chance to bond. “And I didn’t realize they had lunch.”
“Lyla makes amazing food. Sunday morning, let’s meet here for breakfast. Her pastries are the reason I’m getting a gut.”
I scoffed and smacked his barrel of a chest. “Please.”
He chuckled, opening the door for me. A bell jingled overhead, and the moment we stepped inside, I nearly collided with Frank.
“Hey there.” Frank beamed, pulling me into a quick hug. “How’s it going, cutie?”
“Good.” I smiled. “Pops and I were just going to eat lunch.”
“Same here. I just walked through the door and was searching for a table.”
“Join us,” Pops said, motioning toward the counter.
I moved to follow them, taking in the restaurant. The interior was painted the same shade as the exterior, giving it a moody, modern feel. Beside the counter were glass cases of pastries and muffins and other baked goods. There were a handful of wooden tables along the walls, all but one of them occupied.
My steps faltered as I spotted a handsome face at the table closest to the counter.
Griffin was wearing the same clothes he’d been in this morning at my house. His faded hat still covered his unruly hair. He was sitting with two beautiful women. One had brown hair the same shade as Griff’s, twisted into a knot. She wore a green apron. Lyla. I recognized her face from the family picture at his house.
The other woman’s long blond hair hung in straight, shiny strands over her shoulders. Her strappy tank top showcased her lean arms and her jeans were skintight. She placed her hand on Griffin’s forearm and a zing of jealousy raced through my veins.
I tore my eyes away, forcing my feet across the room. We were casual. We were temporary. But we hadn’t talked about being exclusive. I’d just assumed that since he’d spent each night in my bed, it was the only bed. Was he dating her? Was this why he was so busy? I kept my gaze aimed forward, refusing to look.
My stomach twisted and whatever hunger I’d had earlier vanished as I followed Pops and Frank through the cafe.
“Hey, Covie.” Lyla stood from the table, rounding the corner to stand behind the counter.
“Hi, Lyla.” Frank waved.
“Frank.” She said his name but kept her gaze on Pops.
“Lyla, it’s a special day.” Pops gave her a wide smile. “I’d like you to meet my granddaughter, Winslow Covington. She gets to experience the magic of your food today.”
“Hello!” Lyla smiled, her blue eyes sparkling as she extended a hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you. My dad’s been talking about you constantly.”
But not her brother. Because I was a secret. The blonde was not.
“It’s nice to meet you too.” I shook her hand, doing my best to pretend her brother wasn’t at the table within earshot.
Pretending was pointless.
Griffin’s gaze burned into my spine.
“What are you having today?” Lyla asked.
The three of us ordered the special, and after Pops paid, we turned from the counter with a numbered table card.
Griffin stood and dropped some cash on the table. The blonde stood too, cozying up to his side.
Their arms brushed.
A green haze spread across my vision and my jaw clenched so tight I doubted I’d be able to unlock it and eat the chicken salad sandwich I’d ordered. I had no right to be jealous, yet here I stood, fuming. Not just at Griffin and the fact that clearly he had some sort of relationship with that woman and hadn’t bothered to mention it. But with myself.
Once again, fooled by a handsome man.
“Hi, Griffin.” Pops walked over. “How are you today?” “Fine, Covie. You?”
“Famished. Lyla can usually fix that problem though.”
“I came here for the same reason.” Griffin grinned, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. His gaze flicked to Frank and his expression flattened. “Frank.”
“Eden,” Frank muttered, then walked away to claim the last remaining empty table.
What the hell? What was I missing?
“Here’s your coffee, Covie.” Lyla came over carrying a cup balanced on a saucer. “Want me to put it at your table?”
“Oh, I’ll take it.” He lifted it from her and smiled, his attention completely on Griffin and Lyla.
The blonde glared daggers at Pops like Griffin had at Frank.
Definitely missing something.
Silence stretched awkward and thick as Pops lifted his coffee cup to his lips, ignoring the blonde’s existence.
Finally, Griffin cleared his throat and met my gaze for the first time. “Winslow Covington, this is Emily Nelsen.”
Emily Nelsen.
The reporter.
Well, damn. This just got better.
“Hi. Nice to meet you,” I lied with a fake smile. “Same.” She leaned in closer to Griffin.
He stiffened but didn’t move away. Bastard.
“We’d better claim our table,” Pops said. “Have a good one, Griff.”
“You too.” His gaze met mine for a split second, then darted away as he headed for the door.
Emily scurried after him.
Don’t stare. Don’t stare.
Griffin was just a hookup. A casual fling. A fling that was very, very over now.
I’d mourn the loss of sex and distraction later, so I followed Pops to join Frank.
The front wall of the coffee shop was made entirely of windows and beyond the glass was the sidewalk and Main. It was impossible to miss Emily walking to Griffin’s truck.
“The goddamn reporter,” I muttered. “Really?”
Why, of all the people, did Griffin have to be with the fucking reporter who’d smeared my name before even meeting me? I gave up any attempt not to stare and watched their every move.
Griffin said something to her, his expression stern. That didn’t mean much. He often wore a serious face. It was rare that he’d smile and laugh. But he had a few times. With me.
He leaned in closer to Emily, speaking low. The pout on her face said she didn’t exactly like what he had to say.
She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him pathetic, pleading eyes.
He shook his head, his shoulders slumping. Then he gave her a small nod before walking to his truck and climbing inside.
She hurried to the passenger door, getting in with a smug grin aimed toward the coffee shop. No doubt she could see me staring through the glass. Bitch.
What was the joke he’d made the other night? You can’t throw a rock in Quincy without hitting an Eden. At the moment, I wouldn’t mind throwing a boulder at the man.
I tore my eyes away from Griffin’s truck as he reversed out of his space and rolled down Main.
“Those goddamn Nelsens,” Pops said.
“Those goddamn Edens,” Frank muttered.
Lyla chose that moment to appear, her hands full with three water glasses. Her cheeks were flushed, and I was sure she’d heard both Frank and Pops.
Frank didn’t notice but Pops gave her an apologetic smile. “Thanks, Lyla.”
“Sure, Covie.” She walked away, returning to the counter.
“You don’t like the Edens?” I asked Frank. Then why was he at Eden Coffee?
“Oh, I like Lyla just fine. And Talia and Eloise. But no, I’m not exactly fond of Harrison or Griffin. They think they own the whole town.”
Envy crept through his voice. There had to be more to it than just dislike but I didn’t care to hear it. Not today.
Griffin hadn’t once given me the impression that he owned Quincy. Then again, he also hadn’t given me the impression that he was cozy with another woman, so clearly, when it came to that particular Eden, my judgment was impaired.
Oh God. My stomach churned. On Monday, he hadn’t come over until ten. Had he been on a date with her first? Had he visited her bed before coming to mine?
“You okay, Winnie?” Pops asked.
“Yeah.” I nodded and took a sip of my water. “Just been a hectic week.” “How are things going at the station?”
“Good.” They would be good. Eventually.
Maybe this run-in with Griffin was what had needed to happen. Hadn’t I just been thinking about how I needed to get my life at home together? Griff had been a constant on my mind and a regular intrusion during my evenings.
I had a life to establish in Quincy. I had a house that needed to become a home. Building lasting relationships with my staff was more important than a fleeting one with a hot cowboy.
I’d moved here to heal. To build a new life. To repair the heartache from my split with Skyler. Jumping into bed with Griffin wasn’t going to help me achieve any of those goals.
It had to end. Tonight.
When he showed up tonight, I’d call it off.
 |
I SHOT OUT OF BED, my heart racing. My stomach lurched.
The bedroom was bathed in gray but my mind was swimming in red.
Blood red.
I ran to the bathroom, tripping on the shoe that I’d kicked off in the middle of the room earlier. I managed to catch myself before I smashed into the wall, righting my feet as I slapped a hand over my mouth.
My knees cracked on the tile floor as I landed by the toilet, retching until my stomach was empty. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I shoved
the hair from my eyes.
“Damn it,” I cursed to the empty room, burying my face in my hands.
This was the worst nightmare I’d had in months. Maybe years. It was like the versions I’d had early on. The ones where I was at the scene of the crash.
It was the nightmare where I found my father’s mangled arm outstretched on the pavement. The dream where I saw my mother’s head severed from her body.
I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the smell of torn flesh and burnt rubber and scraped metal out of my nose. Think of something else. Anything else.
The first image that popped into my mind was of Lily Green. Her disfigured body shattered on the rocks below Indigo Ridge.
My stomach roiled again but there was nothing left to puke.
“Fuck.” I pressed my fingers into my eyes until the black became white. Shoving myself off the floor, I stood on shaking legs and shuffled to the sink. After splashing water on my face, I brushed my teeth, then turned on
the lights.
All of the lights.
I flipped every switch as I made my way from the bedroom to the kitchen. The clock on the oven showed it was just past midnight.
The house was still and quiet. My heartbeat filled each room with a resounding boom, boom, boom.
I brewed a pot of coffee. There was no way I’d go back to sleep tonight. With a steaming mug in hand, I went to my bedroom and began organizing. I threw myself into the task, refusing to think of the nightmare. Refusing to think of Griffin.
For the past week, each night he’d slept in my bed, I’d slept all night long. Chances were, if he’d been here tonight, I still would have had the nightmare. Or maybe the dreams had been waiting for me to be at my weakest.
Sometimes, it was like the images had a sick mind of their own. The harder I fought them, the harder they struck. Every nightmare I’d had since moving here had been brutal. It was like they’d crept their way into my new pillows, waiting to pounce.
Of course it would be the night of Griffin’s absence. Maybe he was with his reporter tonight.
Maybe not.
It didn’t matter anymore.
He hadn’t shown up for me to end it tonight. I guess that was end enough.
So I worked alone to unpack my house. Because that was what I was. Alone.
