Lessons in Heartbreak: Chapter 6

Trying to follow him was astronomically unfair. His legs were twice as long as mine, and I huffed loudly as I trotted off to where he’d disappeared down one of the nonfiction aisles. Lauren let out a satisfied sigh as I started walking, and I covertly flipped her my middle finger because there were no other patrons in my sight line.

The sound of her laugh was the last thing I heard before I caught up with Griffin, standing in the middle of the aisle, his head tilted to the side as he studied the spines in front of him.

“Ooh, not sure this is the right place for me.”

“No, it wouldn’t be.”

“Should we go one aisle over?” He tapped his finger on a book. “Never mind. I think I need this one too.”

When he pulled it from the shelf, I sighed quietly through my nose, just barely holding back the eye roll that threatened.

“The Art of Seduction,” he read quietly, gaze narrowed thoughtfully as he read the back cover. “‘Twenty-four maneuvers will guide readers through the seduction process, providing cunning, amoral instructions for and analysis of this fascinating, all-pervasive form of power.’” He whistled under his breath. “Yowza. And you keep this baby out for anyone to pick up? Seems dangerous.”

I snatched the book out of his hand, just like I had the other, and tucked it back into its place, my cheeks flaming. “What do you want? I know you’re not here for books.”

“Speak for yourself,” he murmured, leaning closer to me to grab the book back and tuck it underneath his arm. His arm brushed against mine, and the heat of his bicep seared through my shirt. The rolling muscle was the size of a python, for crying out loud.

I dug deep, letting out a slow, measured exhale.

By the time I opened my eyes, he was studying my face in a way that made my belly swoop weightlessly.

“No,” I said firmly.

Griffin blinked. “What? I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re looking at me funny.”

“Are you always so prickly when a man tries to converse with you?”

“Yes,” I answered in a grim tone.

“Ah. Hence the escort.”

I huffed, trying to move past him, but he easily sidestepped, blocking my path from the aisle. It was quite irritating how I had to crane my neck to look up at him.

Griffin clicked his tongue. “See, now you’re looking at me funny.”

There was a moment where I considered lying, but honestly, my filter was just gone with how he loomed over me.

“It’s annoying how tall you are,” I told him.

“People have found me annoying for much less than that, so I can understand. Besides, you’re pocket-size. It’s cute.” Then he patted the top of my head. Like I was a child.

I smacked his hand away, and he had the audacity to chuckle. Before I could speak, he grabbed the black-and-pink book again. “You read this?”

“Not yet.”

“Maybe you should.” He flipped idly through the pages, his eyebrows rising in interest at whatever he saw. “Maybe it would help you with . . . whatever . . .”

The way his voice trailed off, like he could drop breadcrumbs and I’d follow along, finally unleashed the eye roll I’d kept on such a tight leash.

Inexplicably, his smile grew, and I found myself tugging lightly on the hem of my pastel-blue cardigan to make sure it lay smoothly on my hips. Underneath it was my favorite silk blouse of the same color.

And now, thanks to him, I’d think of Griffin every time I put it on.

“You look lovely in that color.”

A sharp clearing of my throat effectively snipped the memory of his voice from my mind.

“I have a professional for ‘whatever,’” I reminded him.

His eyebrows shot up. “You’re still going to use him? He was a tool.”

“You cannot possibly know that. You spoke to him for less than five minutes.”

“Yeah, I can. I have amazing douchebag radar.” He tapped the side of his temple. “Believe me, it was going off loud and clear after you bolted.”

I tilted my head. “I bolted because you deceived me.”

Griffin’s big hand lay over his chest, and my eyes flicked briefly to the veins roping the back of that hand. “Deception is a very strong word, birdy. If he hadn’t shown up, I would have told you the truth.”

“Easy to say now.” One of our regulars wandered down the aisle, and I smiled in her direction when she stopped to peruse some book at the end of the row we shared.

Griffin nudged my shoulder with his arm and angled his head one aisle over. We walked around in silence, but I decided to add in another row between us and anyone else, just to have a buffer.

He paused to study the books in this aisle. “World War Two?” he asked.

I nodded. “Some great ones in here, if you like history.”

“Only history I usually pay attention to is in the film room,” he answered, still studying the spines. His gaze lingered on a couple, but he didn’t pick up anything else.

It was easier, it seemed, for him to tease me when the topic was something he felt like he could joke about. A tell if I’d ever seen one.

“How long is your vacation?” I asked.

He sighed heavily. “Two and a half weeks.”

A reluctant grin tugged at my lips. “Sounds like a hardship. I can see why you’re so upset.”

“I already worked out for three hours this morning.” His focus stayed firmly on the books, and I watched, with involuntary fascination, to see which ones seemed to snag his interest. “I played solitaire for another hour. My brain will rot if I don’t find something to do.”

“Your brain will not rot from having a relaxing vacation.”

“Easy for you to say,” he tossed back, leaning his big shoulder against the bookshelf and staring down at me again. “Does this mean I can’t come hang out with you at work?”

“Not a chance.”

He grinned widely, and there was an answering flare of heat so bright behind my chest bone that I tore my eyes away from his face.

“Here,” I said, pulling a book down from the shelf in front of me. “Add this to your pile.”

“Against All Odds,” he read. “What’s this one about?”

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.”

“‘Old friend’?” 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.

“And you won’t ask about my drinks with Jimmy?”

Griffin’s mouth fell open. “His name is Jimmy? What kind of hooker name is that?”

“He’s not a hooker,” I hissed. “Keep your voice down.”

He recovered quickly. “Fine, fine. I won’t ask about Jimmy.”

The disgust with which he said the name made me fight back a smile. He caught it, a grin of his own spreading.

“Just dinner,” I said.

Griffin held up one hand. “I’ll be as innocent as a nun.”

I snorted. Loudly.

And someone from the row behind us shushed me.

Griffin leaned in. “You’re a terrible influence, aren’t you, birdy? I should probably go so you don’t ruin my reputation around town.”

He walked off whistling, and I covered my face with my hands, letting out a small groan.