No Knight Needed (11 page)

And he didn’t need to. Not anymore.

He wasn’t in Maine to play family time with people who judged him. He was there to get his daughter back. Hillary didn’t know what she was talking about. Katie didn’t know him. He would be there tomorrow at six to reclaim his daughter. Period.

And in the meantime, he was getting his business back on track. When Brooke came home with him, he was going to show her that he could give her anything she wanted. Anything. He looked at the necklace again, and set it on the bed. Tomorrow she would see. Tomorrow she would realize that she was wrong about him.

Of course he wanted to be her father.

Of course he saw the beauty of her soul.

He always had, dammit. Just because he worked long hours didn’t mean he didn’t get it.

As more laughter drifted down the hall, Griffin grabbed his laptop, his briefcase and his phone, then walked out his door. He paused in the hallway just outside the kitchen. Three teenagers were sitting around the table, munching on French bread, but he barely noticed them.

All he could focus on was Clare. Her hair tucked in an adorable, messy bun, she was unwrapping foil from what smelled like hot garlic bread. She looked domestic and happy, her eyes dancing as she chatted with the kids. He almost smiled, drawn in by her obvious peace with the moment. He didn’t remember Hillary ever looking that soft or appealing. He felt like he could stand there all night and watch her.

“When’s Griffin coming?” Jeremy asked. The kid was wearing jeans and a red tee shirt, and he was watching Katie with an interest that made Griffin want to go in there and toss the kid out on his underwear-clad ass.

Katie looked up and saw Griffin. Her face hardened. “Griffin isn’t coming to dinner,” she announced.

Clare turned quickly to her daughter. “He’s not coming to dinner? Why not?”

Griffin’s sense of peace retreated swiftly. It was the same thing all over again. Why wasn’t Griffin coming to dinner? Why wasn’t he participating in the family event?

Dammit. Hillary was wrong. She was
wrong
. He deserved his daughter, and he was going to get her back.

“Is Griffin sick?” Clare wiped her hands on her jeans. “I’ll go check on him—” She turned toward the door, and Griffin ducked out of sight.

He booked it out the side door and was already at his truck by the time Clare pushed open the screen door and came out on the back stoop. He met her gaze, and for a moment he hesitated. There was no recrimination on her face, just concern.

But that was how it started.

The hostility and accusations always came eventually. He didn’t have time to be reminded of his failings. He had a daughter to rescue, a business to buy, and a life to reclaim.

He did not need to invest himself in some small town in Maine, or in a woman whose blue eyes could suck the life out of a man...or give him enough fuel to survive anything. A woman who could make him feel like he owned the world, and then rip it out from under him the moment she deemed him unworthy. No, he didn’t need that again.

He yanked open the truck door and set his gear inside.

“Griffin?” Clare walked down the stairs. “Is everything all right?” Her voice was gentle and worried, and her eyes were filled with warmth. She barely knew him, and already she was opening herself to him, bringing him into her circle. She’d done it when she’d announced to the entire store that he could stay at her house, and she was doing it again.

For a split second, Griffin was tempted to let himself accept her concern, to yank her into his arms and breathe in the purity of her essence. But for what? So she could take it all back the moment he spent too long at the computer? Screw that. No more loss for him. He wouldn’t start down this path again, not when he knew where it would go. Clare was all about home and family, and she would eventually hate him just like Hillary had. “I have to go.”

Her forehead furrowed with concern, with worry, utterly without judgment. “Where?”

But he wasn’t going to fall for it. “I just need to go.” He started the truck, shifted into reverse, and peeled out of her driveway without looking back.

He would not go back to a world of accusation and blame.

There was only forward.

Only forward.

Only forward.

The Ox Hill Pub loomed dark and moody as Griffin sped down one of the side roads that had led off Main Street in town. Neon beer signs flashed in the window, and there were a scattering of pickups in the dirt parking lot.

Not the same as the bar at the Four Seasons, but he’d take it for now.

Briefcase in hand, Griffin yanked open the door of the bar and headed inside. Dark wood beams bisected the white ceiling, and the walls were bare wood, decorated with black and white pictures that seemed to document a hundred years of history. Farmers with their pitch forks. Old tractors. A couple of guys in hip waders holding some bass.

The low-lit bar smelled like a wood stove and fresh bread, and he was surprised by the hum of energized conversation. There were dining tables to the right filled with families who’d taken their kids out for an early Sunday dinner. But to the left was a bar. Quiet at this hour on a Sunday, and exactly what he wanted.

No one seemed to be attending the door, so Griffin headed inside, grabbed a table in the corner and set up his office.

Two beers and a burger later, he was immersed in Phillip’s file and the world of teen fashion. The creators of In Your Face jeans had expanded into jackets, and he was damned impressed. The two Berkeley grads had taken their start-up into impressive places, and were selling their product to some powerful outlets. They were onto something, and it smelled the same as Free Love Slippers had when he’d first scented that gem.

He clicked on a pair of jeans with the IYF logo on the hip—

“You’re a fashion guy?” Jackson Reed, the guy with the good tires, leaned over Griffin’s shoulder, peering at the computer screen. Jackson had spiffed up with a pair of dark jeans and a collared shirt. His hair was slicked back and the man was freshly-shaven.

“It’s a business I’m thinking about buying,” Griffin explained. This was his comfort zone. Business talk with a guy who invested in good tires. No one ever accused him of failing to deliver when it came to work.

“Yeah?” Jackson pulled out a chair and sat down. “I’m thinking about buying out my boss. Risky shit, going into business on your own, isn’t it?”

Griffin couldn’t help but grin with satisfaction. “It’s the best deal on earth.” He hadn’t been accountable to anyone in years, and he would never go back.

“Yeah?” Jackson cocked an eyebrow, folding his massive arms over his chest, the body of a man who lived by hard labor, much like Griffin’s dad had. “What if it goes belly up? You lose everything?”

Griffin shrugged. “It’s a risk, yeah, but not likely if you know what you’re doing.”

Jackson barked with laughter. “Yeah, if it was that easy, everyone would be doing it. Hell, I’d have started my own company years ago.”

Griffin leaned back in his chair as the waitress set another beer in front of him. It felt good to have a little man time. “What’s your business? Construction?”

“Yep.” Jackson tipped his chair back and propped his booted foot on an empty seat. “Been with the same company since I was eighteen. Jeff Green took me on when I showed up here on my way to nowhere, and I’ve never left. This town was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Griffin didn’t bother to comment on that. “Why don’t you buy it?”

“Well, yeah.” Jackson let the foot fall back to the floor. “Jeff’s retiring, and he wants to hand it off to me.” He shrugged as he helped himself to one of Griffin’s fries. “Can’t do it now, though. Things being what they are and all.”

As if he had any clue what Jackson was talking about. “Why can’t you do it? It’s always the right time to go out on your own.”

“Why can’t I?” Jackson grinned suddenly, his face lighting up. “Shit, man, how do you not know? You’ve been in town for twenty-four hours. Everyone knows.”

Griffin ground his jaw. “Yeah, well I’m not tapped into the gossip chain yet.” At least when it came to others. Apparently, his personal life was a well-covered topic.

“Just giving you grief, my friend.” Jackson slapped him on the shoulder, then grinned. “Trish’s having a baby, big guy. A baby!”

Griffin blinked. “Trish?”

“My wife!” Jackson looked so proud Griffin half expected him to leap on the table and start beating his chest. “I’m going to be a damned father. Can you believe that shit?”

Griffin couldn’t help but grin at Jackson’s enthusiasm, and he raised his beer. “To the new dad.”

Jackson slammed his drink against Griffin’s so hard that the amber liquid sloshed over the table. “Hell, yeah, man. Hell,
yeah.
”

Griffin eyed the other man as Jackson took an enthusiastic slug of his beer. He couldn’t quite remember what his reaction had been when he’d found out Hillary was pregnant. In fact, he couldn’t even remember finding out. Just one day, his daughter was there. But he was pretty sure he’d never been as fired up as Jackson.

“So, now you see why I can’t buy out Jeff,” Jackson said.

Griffin tried to figure out the connection between the baby and Jackson’s inability to buy the business. “I’d think that now would be the time to make the move. Get the security of being your own boss—”

Jackson shook his head instantly. “And risk Trish and the baby? No chance.”

Griffin frowned. “How does buying out your boss risk them?”

“Don’t you get it, Griff?” Jackson leaned forward, his face serious. “They’re counting on me now. I have to provide for them. A house, food, clothing, all that shit. If I sink all my savings into a business, then I’ve got no security for them to count on. And what if the business tanks? We’ve got nothing.” Jackson shook his head. “Different story if I was single, but when you’re single, what the hell does it matter anyway? Who are you doing it for? The dog?” He grinned and his face was at peace. “I’ve got a new job now, and it’s not the one that pays the bills.” He slammed his fist on the table. “I’m on it, Griff. I’m going to be the best damn father any kid has ever had and—”

“Jackson? Sorry I’m late.” A woman with long blond hair streaming down around her shoulders waved from the entrance to the bar. She was wearing a thick sweater, but there was no obscuring the swell of her belly. She smiled at Jackson, her face beaming at the sight of him.

Shit and damn. Griffin had never had a woman look at him like that. Jackson was a lucky bastard.

“Trish!” Jackson bounded out of his chair, his face glowing. He was by her side in an instant, his arm around her shoulders and his hand resting protectively on her stomach. “How are you?” His question was earnest, and he said no more as he waited for her answer.

She smiled and touched his cheek. “I’m great.”

“Good.” Jackson tucked her against him and turned toward Griffin. “Trish, this is Griffin Friesé. Griff, this is my wife Trish.”

“Nice to meet you.” Griffin nodded at her. “You’ve got a good man.”

“Oh, I know.” Trish smiled warmly at Jackson before turning back to Griffin. “It’s great to meet you. We’re so glad to have you here.” Trish beamed at him, and Griffin was surprised to see sincere welcome on her face. No judgment like there’d been from the others in the store. No fear that he would murder her unborn child or her grandma. “I’ve heard so much about you,” she said cheerfully.

Griffin laughed softly, spinning his beer between his palms. “If you’ve heard that much about me, you shouldn’t be talking with me.”

“Griffin.” Trish walked over and took his hand, holding it between hers. He was so startled by the contact he almost jerked his hand away before she squeezed it with genuine affection.

“Thank you for taking care of Clare and the kids last night,” she said earnestly. “They were so lucky you were there for them.

Griffin stared at her for a second before he could muster up an answer, momentarily undone by the strength of her welcome. “It’s no problem,” he finally muttered, embarrassed but pleased.

She smiled cheerfully, a twinkle of mischief in her blue eyes. “Jackson and I are so glad that you’re in town and staying with Clare. She needs you.”

Griffin’s warmth at her welcome faded as he registered her comment. What did she mean that Clare needed him? Was Clare in trouble? No, no, no. He couldn’t go there. “I’m just renting a room at Clare’s. Nothing else.”

Trish’s smile widened. “No one just rents a room in Birch Crossing.”

“I’m only going to be here a couple days.” Maybe less. “I’m just passing through.”

“So was I,” Jackson said. “Twelve years later, I’m still here.” He slung his arm around Trish’s shoulders, and kissed her temple. “Gotta get my girl some dinner before she gets cranky. Talk to you later.”

“Yeah, sure.” Griffin leaned back and clasped his hands behind his head as he watched Jackson and Trish head off toward the restaurant section. Their heads were bent toward each other, and they were talking quietly. Intimately.

He pulled his gaze away, feeling like he was intruding, and he focused his attention back on the computer. Jackson might think the key to being a good dad was to be someone else’s workhorse, but Griffin knew better.

And as soon as he bought In Your Face and launched his new business, Brooke would see that he was the only father she needed.

But as Griffin scrolled through to the next product line, he couldn’t quite keep his gaze from drifting across the restaurant to the couple who’d just left.

But Jackson and Trish were out of sight.

With a resigned sigh, Griffin went back to work.

* * *

Almost six hours later, Griffin paused on the steps outside the back door of Clare’s home, listening for the sounds of activity inside the farmhouse. All was quiet, as he’d hoped. He’d worked until closing, and then he’d done another hour in his truck before driving back to Clare’s.

It was almost midnight now, and even Wright & Son had been closed and quiet when he’d driven by. Surely, Clare and Katie would be in bed by now.