Dirty Letters(30)

Our kiss was interrupted when the housekeeper entered carrying three large pizza boxes.

Feeling like an animal in heat, I panted and asked, “What’s that?”

“Our real dinner. Pineapple pizza—your favorite.”

A feeling of nostalgia warmed over me. “You remembered.”

“How could I forget? I remember everything, Luca.”



“Tell me what you’re thinking right now.”

I blinked a few times and my vision came back into focus. I’d been staring down at a slice of pineapple pizza and when I looked up, I found Griffin watching me. I’d heard him speak, but the words seemed to have swooped in one ear and bolted out the other. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

He stood. We’d been sitting across from each other at the dining room table. Today had been surreal—from finding out Griffin was Cole Archer, to seeing him for the first time after all these years, to that kiss. That kiss. Griffin extended his hand. “Come on. You have too much on your mind to eat right now. Why don’t we go sit in the living room and talk?”

I nodded and put my hand in his. He led me over to the massive sectional, and when I sat, he knelt down in front of me and slipped off my heels one at a time. “I’m taking these off so that you’re comfortable, but I also have an ulterior motive. I’m going to get us some more wine from the kitchen, and I’m going to keep one of these with me so you can’t bolt out the door while I’m gone for two minutes.”

I thought he was joking, but he actually took one of my shoes with him. He returned a few minutes later carrying two fresh glasses of wine and my high heel.

“Nottingham Cellars cab.” Griff extended a glass of my favorite wine. The thing was full to the brim. “I wasn’t sure what year you liked so I got a few different ones. This is the 2014. Which do you usually buy?”

“Um. Whichever one is the cheapest.”

“Shit. I went in the other direction.”

I smiled. “It’s fine. I’m not really a wine aficionado, so I doubt I’d be able to tell one year from the next.”

Griffin sat down on the couch next to me and pulled one knee up, turning to face me. He looked completely at ease, whereas I was concentrating hard to keep my hand from shaking. I really didn’t want to slosh red wine all over his white furniture. He noticed and put a hand on my knee. “Relax. I’m not going to bite.” An adorable boyish grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Unless you want me to.”

I gulped down half the glass of wine.

Griffin arched a brow. “Feel better?”

I shook my head. “Not really.”

He slipped the glass from my hands and set it down on the coffee table, along with his untouched one. Then he took both my hands into his and looked back and forth between my eyes. “You’re even more beautiful in person.”

Heat crept up my cheeks. “Thank you. I can’t believe you even recognized me. How old was I in the one photo you’ve seen of me? Twelve?”

Griffin looked down at our joined hands and squeezed. “I think we both have a lot to come clean about. So I’m going to start right now. I didn’t recognize you from the picture that you’d sent me in middle school. I hired a private investigator to follow you and take some photos of you.”

My eyes bulged from my head. “You what? When?”

“A few weeks ago. He took some pictures of you coming out of the post office. And then . . . he followed you across the country over the last week.”

Not knowing someone had been watching me made me suddenly feel very violated. I pulled my hands from his. “Why would you do that?”

Griffin raked his hands through his hair. “I wanted to see what you looked like.”

“I asked you to exchange photos. You were the one who said you didn’t want to.”

“I wanted to see you. I just didn’t want you to see me. But I guess you knew who I was all along, so the joke was on me anyway.”

My brows drew down. “What are you talking about? I only found out this morning who you are.”

He looked genuinely confused. “Then how did you happen to arrive on my block?”

“You left an eBay receipt in the bottom of the box of Furbys you sent me. It had a shipping address of Marchese Music. I figured that was where you worked.”

Griffin shook his head. “But if you didn’t know who I was, why did you drive all the way across the country?”

The fact that he’d even had to ask that question told me so much. This beautiful man with this big, beautiful house thought people were attracted to him for his fortune and fame. This time, it was me who did the assuring. I reached out and took his hand in mine, looking into his eyes as I spoke. “Because I had a crush on the boy who wrote me letters all those years ago, but I started to fall for the sweet man who seemed to like me for who I am—broken or not—and I needed to see if maybe we could have a chance if we met in person finally.”

Griffin leaned in a little closer. His eyes jumped back and forth between mine, searching for something. “You really had no idea who I was until this morning?”

I half smiled. “I hate to bruise your ego, Mr. Rock Star, but not only did I have no idea who you are, I’d never even listened to your music.”