A Convenient Proposal(26)
“I will.”
She closed the door behind him and leaned back against it. Those moments in Griff’s arms had amazed her—outside her music, she’d never before been so lost in the pleasure of the moment. Her mind had been completely overcome by her body’s reaction to Griff’s touch.
That reaction, she hoped, would burn itself out once they’d made love a few times. She couldn’t afford to become dependent on him for sex, or for anything else—his consideration, his gentleness, his encouragement and protection, for instance. She’d be living her life alone, fending for herself and, she hoped, a child.
Griff Campbell was simply a pleasant—well, more than pleasant—means to an end. As she released Igor from the kitchen and got ready for bed, Arden promised herself she would remember that fact.
Because if she didn’t, this entire effort would become yet another exercise in despair.
GRIFF LIMPED AROUND the yard for a while, letting the frigid darkness serve as tonight’s version of a cold shower. He visited the near pastures, but the horses stayed away, unsure of his identity in the dark. When the throb in his calf had overcome the unsatisfied ache in his belly, he allowed himself to head back to the house.
Wearing his shirt and boxers, he was sitting on the side of the tub in the downstairs back bathroom, scrubbing Igor’s teeth marks with soap and hot water, when his dad appeared at the doorway.
Jake leaned against the door frame. “Run into a wild coon outside?”
“Just an overprotective canine.” Griff turned off the water. “Can you hand me a towel?” When his dad reached for the pale peach one hanging within his reach, Griff shook his head. “You know Mom doesn’t want blood on her good linens. I need one of the everyday towels.”
“Right.” His dad stepped into the laundry room and came back with the appropriate cloth. “Doesn’t look too deep. You might want some antibiotics, though, since it’s more puncture than scrape.”
“Yeah. He had a pretty good hold of me, even through the jeans. Which are now useful for painting in and not much else. Brand-new, too.”
“The world well lost for love.”
“Right.” With his skin dry, Griff applied antibiotic ointment and gauze pads, then rolled tape around his calf to hold things in place. “I suspect I’ll survive.”
“Love, or the dog bite?”
His dad, Griff realized, had stayed up to investigate. Time to be careful about what he said. “The dog bite. Love is always fatal, I believe. Don’t we all die still loving somebody?”
“If we’re lucky. You seem to have found a replacement for Zelda pretty fast. Sure it’s not just a rebound romance?”
“Oh, yeah.” His dad didn’t need to know exactly why he was so sure. “Arden is a fantastic person. I think you’ll realize that as you get to know her.”
He wasn’t lying with that one, but he felt as if a huge bell had rung inside his chest, and the vibrations just kept going and going….
“I hope so. She’s certainly beautiful. A little quiet, I thought. Not comfortable in a crowd.”
“I’m sure Mom told you she’s not from a big family. Our hordes of cousins would scare anybody.”
“True. They’re mostly your mother’s family.” They shared a grin, because that was the standard line. Anything wrong always happened on the other side of the family. “Well, I’ll look forward to the quieter times when we can get to know your Arden better.”
Griff picked up his ripped jeans and dirty towel and followed his dad out of the bathroom. The shadowed hallway provided good cover for anything his face might give away. “Me, too.”
“So did you get to do any real work while you were down in the islands? Or did you drink the time away?”
“I volunteered for different clinics and rescue groups, when I could find them. There are some marine animal facilities scattered around, all still dealing with the aftermath of the oil spill and the last few hurricanes.”
“Not a total waste of time, then.” Jake headed toward the master bedroom.
Griff watched the door close behind his dad, knowing he shouldn’t let that last comment go unchallenged. But why start an argument his first night home?
He climbed the stairs to his room, instead, and settled into the bed he’d slept in since he was ten, where he’d hidden magazines of various kinds under the mattress and dreamed about everything from hot cars and hot music to hot women.