She's My Kind of Girl Page 9

  She couldn’t come home, and he couldn’t leave.

  That left them with no future.

  He held no illusions he’d change her mind.

  But that didn’t mean he couldn’t be with her while she was here. Griff knew how fast life could change, and he didn’t take it for granted. He wasn’t going to waste time with her to save himself the hurt when she walked away.

  Last night he’d realized all those things he’d been telling himself all these years were bullshit.

  He’d never really gotten over her.

  All those times he’d never allowed himself to date any of the women in Revival wasn’t because he was protecting his reputation, but because they weren’t Darcy.

  And after all this time, he still loved her. Had never stopped loving her.

  So he might not be able to have her, but he wouldn’t waste one second with her.

  He’d recover. He always did. But he’d hold fast while he had her.

  The intercom rang, and Mrs. Weller’s disapproving voice came over the line. “Darcy Miller’s here to see you. I told her you were busy, but she insisted.”

  Griffin smiled. Speak of the devil. “Send her in.”

  Mrs. Weller huffed and hung up.

  He laughed, but it died in his throat when Darcy walked into his office. Face affixed in a remote mask, she refused to meet his eyes.

  His chest gave a hard squeeze. There weren’t going to be any more nights.

  Last night was the only one.

  He wouldn’t even have her for a little while.

  She walked up to his desk, an envelope in her hand. When she stopped, she shifted on her feet.

  She didn’t want to say the words, so he’d say them for her. He sat back in his chair and said softly, “You’re leaving.”

  She blinked and looked down at his desk before nodding.

  “Why?” Although he already knew, he just wanted to see if she had the balls to admit it.

  She dropped the envelope into the center of his desk. “My mom signed the papers this morning to sell the house. There’s no reason to stay.”

  “I see.” He picked up the packet and put it aside. “Last night wasn’t a reason?”

  She sucked in a breath that sounded like it got lodged in the middle of her throat. “What do you want me to say? We have no future.”

  He couldn’t force her to stay. Wouldn’t beg her like he’d done the last time. If she wanted to go, he wasn’t going to stand in her way, but he’d at least make her call it for what it was. “You’re running away.”

  She shook her head. “I’m saving us from getting hurt.”

  “You’re being a coward.”

  Her eyes brightened, and still she wouldn’t look at him. “What do you want, Griffin? And why is it up to me? Am I supposed to pick up my whole life and move back to this small town for you? Why am I the one running away when you won’t even consider doing the same for me?”

  She had a point. It wasn’t fair. He nodded. “You’re right. My life and responsibilities aren’t any more important than yours are.”

  She met his eyes, and a tear slipped down her cheek. “It’s too hard to stay when I know we’re going to end.”

  “I understand.” He stood and walked around his desk to stand in front of her. He put his arms around her, and she trembled under his touch. He bent down to kiss her, brushing his mouth over hers before saying against her lips, “I still love you.”

  She choked back a sob and gripped his shirt. “I still love you, too.”

  He covered her mouth with his own in a hard, ruthless kiss. He devoured her, sucking her in, because this was the last time and he needed to remember it always.

  His hands were everywhere, stroking over her hips, up her back, roaming across her breasts.

  She rose to tiptoes, pressing closer, like she wanted to crawl inside him.

  He feasted on her, using his tongue, teeth, and lips to say what he couldn’t. To tell her that she was it for him. To imprint his possession onto her. To brand her. Mark her. So she’d never forget that she might not be with him, but she sure as hell belonged to him.

  Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer.

  He tasted her tears in their kiss. He twisted her, pushing her onto the desk before gripping her hips and rocking hard into her. She gasped, dug her nails into his back. They didn’t break contact, their breathing becoming more and more labored as they fought and strained to get closer.

  He undid the zipper of her jeans and pushed them down. She kicked them away as she reached for his belt. Fingers fumbling, her hands shook as she worked the button. He helped her along, pushing his pants down far enough for his cock to spring free. He fumbled in his pocket for a condom and quickly, without breaking the fusing of their mouths, he rid himself of the package and rolled the latex over his aching cock.

  He lifted her hips and pushed inside her.

  Groaning against her lips, he thrust his tongue in time to the thrusting of his body.

  She cried out, the sound vibrating against his mouth.

  This was going to be the last time and it had to count, but he couldn’t control his need for her.

  She shook in his arms as he pounded into her, trying to soak in the lushness of her body, the squeeze of her muscles down his shaft.

  He felt the quickening of her body. She was close. He slowed down and whispered between kisses, “Not yet, Darce. Please don’t come yet.”

  She moaned, and, as she stilled her body, her mouth became more demanding and insistent. She bit his lower lip. “I love you so much, Griff.”

  “I love you, too.” He switched to short, shallow strokes, staving off their impending climax while they kissed like they were starving.

  Because they were. This was their last supper.

  He got lost in her. Lost in everything about her, from the feel of her, tight and wet around him, to her hair, her mouth, the stroke of her tongue. The way she smelled all hot, desperate, and aroused.

  All he wanted was to ask her to stay. And it was the one thing he couldn’t do.

  When she tightened around him, he knew she couldn’t hold on much longer and he increased his strokes. Pushing harder and deeper, he plunged into her. They were breathing so hard they could no longer maintain contact, and their lips brushed together with angry swipes, gasping breath, and seeking tongues.

  Her nails dug into his back, and she breathed out, “I’m sorry.”

  She came, exploding around him, ripping his own orgasm from the base of his spine. It rolled through him, powerful and intense.

  It was the best fucking orgasm of his life.

  Made all the more bittersweet because it was finally the end of his relationship with Darcy.

  They lay gasping and panting, their lips still clinging together.

  He had no idea how long they stayed like that, connected, but it wasn’t long enough.

  She stirred, and it was time.

  He pulled away, sipped the tears from her cheeks, and then stood.

  Neither of them spoke as they dressed, avoiding each other as they put themselves together again.

  She glanced at the door. “I have to go.”

  “All right.”

  She bit her bottom lip. “I don’t know how to say good-bye.”

  “Then don’t.” He shoved his hands into his pockets to keep from reaching for her. “Just go and say we’ll see each other someday.”

  She clutched her hands and shook her head. “I didn’t know . . . If I did, I wouldn’t have come back.”

  “I’m glad you did.” Because he couldn’t be sorry.

  She jerked her head to look at him. “You are?”

  He nodded. “How can I be sorry? Most people never get even close to what we have. I just wish I knew how to make it enough.”

  “Me too.”

  Their eyes met then slid away. It was just too hard.

  “Don’t say good-bye.” He clenched his hands into fists.

 
“I won’t.” Her voice atremble.

  The door opened and closed.

  She was gone.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Darcy was miserable.

  She’d been home ten days, it was the night before Christmas Eve, and all she wanted was to see Griffin.

  Her friend Lydia had scored an invite to the hottest holiday party of the season. A party Darcy had been excited about and couldn’t wait to go to, but she’d canceled, pleading a stomach bug.

  She couldn’t handle going out. She couldn’t stand the thought of getting dressed up, partying, or any of that nonsense. Everything seemed too crowded. And there were no stars in the sky. No open spaces.

  And no Griff.

  Since she’d been home, she’d tried to throw herself into work, but she kept drifting off, thinking of that last time with Griffin and how right he felt. How being with him felt like home.

  So here she sat, alone, drinking red wine and watching snow fall over the city as she cried.

  She looked at her phone, and all she wanted was to call him. To hear his voice. But she couldn’t do that. If she did, she’d crumble.

  She tried to work up some righteous anger that he was being unreasonable. That it wasn’t fair to expect her to give up her life for him. But it wouldn’t stick. She didn’t blame him. How could she?

  He belonged in Revival. He was the mayor. He had friends and family there. He had a life and a career, and the truth was she couldn’t imagine him living in New York.

  He’d hate it.

  And she couldn’t ask it. Wouldn’t.

  She wanted to call him. She wanted to know how he was. Wanted to hear news about him. Was desperate for it. She couldn’t call her mom; all that would do is give her false hope.

  Instead, on impulse she called Gracie Roberts. Maybe just hearing his name, that he was alive and surviving, would help ease the ache in her chest.

  The phone rang three times before Gracie picked up.

  At the sound of her voice, Darcy’s eyes filled with tears. She croaked out, “Gracie? It’s Darcy.”

  “Oh no,” Gracie said, her tone concerned. “Are you okay?”

  A sob escaped. “No.”

  “Hang on one minute.” There was muffled talking over the line, then movement, before Gracie came back on. “Sorry about that. I’m glad you called.”

  Darcy blinked as tears streamed down her face. “I don’t know why I did. I just . . . I . . . need . . .” She trailed off, unable to speak.

  “You need to know about Griffin?” Gracie finished for her, somehow understanding exactly what Darcy wanted.

  “Yes.”

  There was a pause before Gracie spoke. “What do you want me to say? Do you want the truth? Or is there something you want to hear?”

  “The truth.” She squeezed her eyes shut and realized the fervent hope in her heart was he was as miserable as she was. How terrible was she? She didn’t want him miserable. She wanted him happy. With her.

  Gracie sighed. “You know men, they never talk about anything. But I can assure you he’s not great.”

  Darcy started to cry in earnest. Embarrassed by her behavior, wishing she hadn’t called, she said, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be bothering you. I-I-I miss him.”

  “Of course you do. Can I ask you something?”

  Darcy nodded and hiccupped. “Yes.”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “I can’t stay and he can’t go.”

  “Why?”

  The simple, straightforward question stilled something inside her. Shifting her perception. “Revival isn’t my home anymore. And Griffin is mayor.”

  “It’s not easy. I won’t pretend it is. The question is if it’s worth it.” There was a sound over the line, before Gracie spoke again. “I know New York is halfway across the country and not quite the same, but I do get it. James and I split time between Chicago and Revival and I won’t lie, it’s hard. Sometimes I’m exhausted and I want to give up. Sometimes I just want to come home to Revival and go back to the calm my life used to be before I decided to go fall in love with a professor who lives in Chicago and open a bakery. Sometimes James doesn’t want to pick up everything on his break and come to Revival. Sometimes we’re forced to be apart because of work priorities. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done and I wouldn’t trade it for the world because he’s so worth it, Darcy. He’s worth everything. So we make it work, make the sacrifice, because not being together isn’t an option. I don’t know the right answer for you and Griffin, but it starts with the same question: Is he worth it to you? If he’s not, let him go even though it hurts right now. If you do, then fight for your happiness. It’s really that simple.” She laughed. “And that complicated.”

  Darcy felt her world shift, tilt, and spin. She wiped under her eyes and sniffed. “You’re right. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” Gracie said, her voice warm and soft. “You okay?”

  “Not yet, but you helped.”

  “I’m glad. Call if you need anything.”

  “Thank you again.” Darcy sniffed and picked up a tissue to wipe her face. “James is a very lucky man.”

  “He is.” Gracie chuckled. “But I’m just as lucky. We make sure of it.”

  Darcy said her good-byes and hung up. She took a breath that sounded like it rattled in her chest. She looked out onto the streets below. She thought of that last conversation with Griffin way back when they’d graduated from high school.

  She’d been right to leave then. She’d needed to find herself. To discover who she was outside of the confines of Revival. She didn’t regret what she’d done.

  But she was older now. Wiser. She could write anywhere. It didn’t matter where she lived. Griffin had a town to save, an economy to revitalize, and people depending on him.

  He belonged in Revival.

  And she belonged with him.

  She was finally going home.

  Chapter Twenty

  Griffin downed another two fingers of scotch, hissing out a breath as he gazed at his Christmas tree and sank deeper into his misery. How could it be worse this time around?

  He’d spent all these years without Darcy. She’d only been back in his life for, what? A month? Putting her out of his mind should not be harder than when he’d been eighteen. But maybe that was the problem. At eighteen he’d had his whole life ahead of him, he’d been young and stupid. Who stayed with their high school girlfriend anyways? No one, that’s who.

  But now he knew there was something about Darcy that other women couldn’t compete with. She held his heart. She understood him, knew what he needed and how to give it to him. She was strong and independent with the exact right amount of wildness to keep life interesting.

  Ironically, it was all the things he loved most about her that made it impossible for her to stay.

  But he didn’t know if he wanted to live without her anymore.

  Could he do it? Give up his life here and go to New York? Would she even want that?

  He didn’t know because he hadn’t asked. Hadn’t wanted to know the answer.

  He poured himself another glass of scotch.

  Alone on Christmas Eve.

  He’d been invited places. His brother and his wife had asked him over. His brother in Chicago had asked him to come since he was stuck in the city for work. Mitch and Maddie Riley asked him to come over with their family as well, but he’d turned everyone down. He wasn’t up to putting on a happy face.

  He wanted to wallow in his misery.

  He should be celebrating. He got what he wanted. His project would see the light of day, and Revival would start the road to recovery. The town would become what it was meant to be. Only it had come at an unexpected price and now he had to find a way to live with that.

  Or he could leave.

  He thought about his likely opponent in the next election. Clyde Winston—a narrow-minded, backward-thinking, sixty-five-year-old who hated change. He’d opposed everything Griffin
did. Who would stand against Winston if Griff left?

  Nobody. The asshole would drag the town twenty years into the past. Griffin knew in the grand scheme of things Revival was just a small town in the middle of nowhere. That small towns came and went without anyone even noticing. But he loved this town. Loved its crazy residents. Loved the strong values and sense of community. Loved who he’d been able to become because of it.

  Griffin took another drink and it burned his throat before blazing a path to his stomach.

  He loved Darcy more.

  Christ.

  The doorbell rang.

  The last thing he wanted was company. He’d ignore it but half the lights were on so his unwanted guest knew he was home. It was probably Charlie, who was on duty tonight, and probably stopping by to shoot the shit and kill some time.

  Weary, he got up, drained his drink, and went to the door.

  When he opened the door, he could only stare in stunned silence. It wasn’t Charlie.

  It was Darcy.

  And she looked messier than he could remember seeing her.

  He opened his mouth and blurted before he had a chance to think, “You look terrible.”

  A smile trembled on her lips. “So do you.”

  “What? How?” He cleared the bewilderment from his voice. “Why are you here?”

  She glanced around him and pointed. “Can I come in?”

  He stood back and let her come in. She wore a heavy black jacket and jeans. Her hair a heap of tangles, her eyes shadowed. “Is everything okay?”

  He shut the door, and she turned to look at him. “I don’t know yet.”

  He furrowed his brow. “What happened?”

  Did somebody hurt her? He’d kill anyone who hurt her. Okay, he needed to calm down. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans to keep from reaching for her.

  She frowned. “This isn’t going how I expected.”

  “I’m lost.” Because he was.

  She sighed and opened her purse before taking out a small, gift-wrapped box and handing it to him. “This is for you.”

  He took the package and looked up at her. “I didn’t get you anything.”

  “I know.” She gestured to it. “Open it.”

  He ripped open the package, trying to ignore the flutter of hope beating wildly in his chest. He tossed the paper to the floor, opened the box, and stared down at the contents. Confused, he shook his head. “It’s a cigarette butt.”