No Knight Needed (32 page)

Katie’s jaw jutted out. “You just love the image you have of me.”

“What? That’s not true—”

“Yes, it is.” Katie’s eyes were glistening with tears, and Clare knew hers were reflecting the same. “You love the daughter who will go to MIT and make tons of money. The one you can brag about, a daughter who isn’t an embarrassment like your husband was.”

Clare felt like a knife had just been plunged into her heart. Did her daughter really believe that? “That’s not true. I love you no matter what—”

“Are you so sure about that?” Katie challenged.

“Of course I am! How can you even doubt that? I love you!”

Katie held up her hand in dismissal. “I can’t deal with this. I’ll see you tomorrow. I have physics club after school, so I’ll be home late. I’m sure that will be fine with you, given that it’s physics and all.”

“Yes, it’s fine.” Clare touched her daughter’s arm. “I have one request.”

Katie looked at her impatiently. “What?”

“Tonight, while you’re away from here, take some time to think about everything. Listen to your heart, not your anger, when you think about whether I love you. Will you do that?”

To her relief, some of the anger on her daughter’s face faded, and she nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Clare held out her arms. “Hug?”

Katie sighed, but she quickly hugged her. Clare crushed her daughter to her, and she suddenly knew why her mother had always hugged her so tightly. Because sometimes, words weren’t enough.

* * *

By the time Griffin drove up to Clare’s house, his anticipation and excitement about In Your Face had morphed into tension about telling Clare.

Phillip had finalized the paperwork and sent the initial offer over to the owners, and they’d responded with excitement. Things were happening, and they were happening fast. What had felt great and right when Griffin had been in Boston had turned into tension the closer he’d gotten to Clare’s house.

But when he’d rounded the corner and seen that old rambling farmhouse with its peeling paint, he realized he was glad to be home, even if he was going to have to create conflict.

He pulled into the driveway and turned off the truck. But he didn’t get out. Should he tell her right away? Or later? Or—

The door opened and Clare came out onto the back step. She was wearing a pair of jeans that hugged her hips perfectly. A soft blue tank top floated over her torso like the breeze had been harnessed and turned into fabric. Her auburn hair was loose, tumbling down around her shoulders, catching the light of the bulb by the door so it appeared almost golden. She looked beautiful, feminine and radiant—

Then he noticed that her arms were folded across her chest. How many times had he caught that pose from Hillary when he’d arrived home late? Shit. He knew he was late, but he’d changed their reservation and he’d left Clare a message.

But there was no mistaking that body language. She was upset, and he hadn’t even told her about the deal yet.

Then he remembered Phillip’s advice, and he narrowed his eyes. She had no right to judge him. He’d busted his ass to get back here this early, and he should have gotten at least ten speeding tickets on his way. And
she
was pissed at
him
?

Well, screw that. He’d had enough of that.

He shoved the door open and stepped outside, bristling. “Clare—”

“Griffin!” She erupted into sudden movement, racing down the stairs and running at him.

He had a split second to brace himself before she flung herself into his arms and hugged him as if he’d been gone for a thousand years and a day. For a moment, he didn’t know what to do, and he awkwardly fumbled in the air, not sure whether to hold her. Wasn’t she mad at him?

Then he felt the warmth of her body sinking against him, the tightness of her arms around his neck and the intimacy of her face buried in his chest, and everything was all right. “It’s okay, Clare.” He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. “I’m home.”

“I know.” Her voice was muffled. “I’m so happy you’re back.”

Griffin kissed her hair and hugged her more tightly. There was no recrimination from Clare, no anger, no judgment. Just pure welcome. “Me, too.” He caught her under the chin and lifted her head. “I need to kiss you.”

She smiled and nodded.

He kissed her then, right in the driveway, in front of anyone who might drive by, and she kissed him back. And it was, he was sure, the best kiss he’d ever had. And within about two minutes, he was ready to forego dinner, toss her over his shoulder, and play the caveman role with his cupcake goddess.

But she deserved more than that. She deserved to be honored...and then tossed into bed. So, he forced himself to end the kiss. They were both breathing hard, and Clare was smiling.

“Damn, you’re beautiful,” Griffin mused. “A man could look at you every day for his whole life, and still want more.”

Clare’s smile brightened. “You have no idea how much I needed to hear that tonight.”

His smile faded at the pain in her voice. “What happened?”

She shook her head. “I’ll tell you at dinner. I just want to get out of the house.”

“Okay.” He kissed her again, then opened the door for her. “Your chariot, my dear.”

She ran her hand over the dashboard as she climbed in. “I haven’t been in here since that night on the mountain.”

Griffin leaned on the door. “The best night of my life.”

She gave him a flirty look that woke certain parts of him right up. “What about last night?”

“Hmm... good point. I’ll have to think about that one. I really like rainstorms though, so I think the mud might trump.”

“Mud? Hey—”

He shut the door on her protest. Laughing, he jogged around the truck to his side. Two minutes with Clare, and all the tension of the day had left. He felt like a new man again.

As he pulled open his door, he made his decision.

He would tell her about the business later.

Right now was about them.

Clare was glowing tonight, Griffin decided. There was no other way to describe her. Maybe it was the dark beams and the lake view of the quaint little restaurant perched on the northern point of the lake. Maybe it was the intimate table for two. Maybe it was the brightly colored, mismatched dishes and glasses that befitted the casual restaurant. Maybe it was the open flame grill roasting some mouth-watering steaks. Or maybe, it was just him, seeing her exactly as she really was.

He didn’t know what it was, but the moment they’d arrived at the Finch Grill and been seated in the corner by the fire as he’d requested, the burden in Clare’s eyes had appeared to subside. She’d been animated and happy, telling him about Eppie and her mother. The story had touched a chord in his heart he hadn’t realized he had. “You never talked about your mom before.”

“I know.” Clare filched an olive from his plate with a mischievous expression. “It’s hard to talk about her. I always felt that I was letting her down.”

“How?”

“You know. Thirty-three. Unmarried. A house that’s falling apart. I didn’t give Katie the family my mom wanted her to have. My mom was the daughter of a minister and she was very conservative. Having her daughter married and pregnant at age eighteen was not what she’d had in mind. We had words over it, right until the day she died.”

Griffin took her hand and pressed his lips to the back of it. “She was worried for you. It wasn’t disappointment.”

“I never understood that until today.” She smiled, and the peace on her face touched him. “But after talking to Eppie, and hearing this cantankerous, judgmental old lady tell me, with total honesty, that my mom would be proud of me...” She shrugged. “All these fears I’d been holding for so long just kind of fell off me.”

Griffin smiled. “Good. You deserve to be free of that burden.” He leaned forward. “But you also need to know that it doesn’t actually matter what your mom would think. You’re an amazing woman and that doesn’t change if someone disagrees with you.”

She picked up her wine, the rosy tint of it sparkling with the reflection of the fire. “I know, but sometimes I think they’re saying it because they’re right.” She took a sip. “Sometimes, I think the people in your life know you better than you know yourself.”

Griffin shook his head. “No way. They only know what they want you to be. That’s not the same thing—” His phone rang and he glanced down. “It’s Brooke.”

Clare clapped her hands in delight. “Answer it.”

His heart racing, he hit ‘Send’ and put the phone to his ear. “Brookie?”

“It’s Hillary.”

“Oh.” He sighed and leaned back in his chair. He was not in the mood for her grief and judgment tonight, not that he ever was, of course. “Hill, I’m at dinner—”

“Brooke told me you said no to changing her name.”

Griffin drummed his fingers on the table impatiently. “Of course I’m not going to let her. She’s my daughter.”

“Oh, come on, Griffin! She’s not your daughter anymore. I’m not sure she ever was, not in the way that really matters.”

His grip tightened on the phone, trying to remember Norm’s advice that Hillary wasn’t necessarily reflecting Brooke’s point of view, no matter what she claimed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You were never there for her. Not ever. And the only reason you want her now is because you want to stake your claim of ownership on her. That’s not what being a father is. Let her go, Griffin, for all of our sakes.”

Griffin scowled, tired of the judgment. “No chance, Hillary. Don’t call me again.” Then he hung up his phone and tossed it on the table. He saw Clare watching him and he grimaced. “Sorry about that.” He leaned forward and took her hand, trying to get back in the frame of mind he’d been in. “Tonight is about us.”

Clare cocked her head. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course. Anything.” Griffin concentrated on the softness of her hand, the gentleness of her touch, and his hostility began to fade. “You chase away my demons,” he commented.

She smiled. “Good.”

“Yeah.” Yes, it was good.

“Why do Brooke and Hillary say you were the one who abandoned them? Did you really leave them?”

Griffin sat back as their server placed their salads before them, tension roiling through him at her question. Hell. He didn’t want Hillary to overshadow the evening with Clare. “It doesn’t matter. Tonight is about us.”

Clare smiled a thank you at the server, then picked up her fork. “It does matter. I want to know.”

Resistance darkened his mood. “What? So you can judge me?”

She gave him a placid look. “I let a potential murderer into my home. I would think that would be sufficient proof that I think you’re a good guy despite all the rumors.” She laid her hand on his forearm and squeezed gently. “Relax, Griffin. It’s me.”

He let out his breath. “Yeah, okay.” This was the woman who’d given herself to him last night, the woman who’d thrown herself into his arms to welcome him home. And suddenly, he wanted her to know. He wanted
someone
to know what had happened, someone who might actually believe him. “I thought everything was fine,” he said. “Life was the same as it had always been. I was working long hours, yeah, but I was making good money and Hillary was spending it happily.”

Clare rubbed his arm, watching him with warmth evident on her face.

“Things got a little crazy at work. One of my directors was funneling off funds, and we had to bring in the police and sue him. It was a real hassle.” He shrugged. “I was late a lot. I was stressed. It happens.”

“Of course it does.” She wove her fingers between his and squeezed. “So, what happened then?”

“I don’t know.” He toyed with his salad, revisiting that moment. “I still don’t understand. It was a Thursday night, and I was supposed to go to a show at Brooke’s school, and I missed it, but I called ahead, and she was like yeah, whatever. When I got home at midnight, the house was empty.”

Clare raised her brows. “She’d taken all the furniture?”

“No, no, the furniture was still there. Everything was still there, except when I walked in...” He paused recalling that moment. “I stepped inside, and I knew something was wrong, that something bad had happened. I dropped my briefcase and sprinted upstairs to the bedrooms, shouting for Brooke and Hillary. They weren’t there. I was panicked, terrified when I found their empty beds. I thought someone had kidnapped them. I knew they weren’t just out. I could feel the difference. Their presence was gone.” His heart began to pound again, just like it had that night. “I ran through the house, shouting for them, searching everywhere, but they were gone. I called the police, I called the neighbors. I couldn’t even breathe.”

Clare inched her chair closer, and hugged his hand to her heart.

“So, I was standing there in the kitchen, and I was leaning over the sink, trying to catch my breath while I waited for the police to arrive, and then I saw it. A note. She’d left me a note. She’d scrawled it on a piece of printer paper. Huge letters, taking up the whole page.” He’d stared blankly at it for what felt like an eternity, not understanding the words, not comprehending the meaning, just numb with shock. “It said she was leaving me. That was it. Nothing else.”

Clare grasped the front of his shirt and tugged lightly. “Come here.”

He allowed her to pull him toward her, and was surprised when she kissed him, right there in front of dozens of patrons. And he knew, in that moment, that she wasn’t going to judge him, and a lead weight fell from his shoulders. By the time she finished, his tension had eased. “How do you do that?” he asked.

She smiled. “I’m a woman. I’m naturally hard-wired to provide comfort to people in need.”

“Not all women have that talent.”

Her smile faded as she studied him. “During that brief time I was married to Ed,” she said. “He was always working on his acting, trying to improve, trying to find local gigs. He always missed dinner, he was never around, and even if he was there, he wouldn’t ever talk to me.” She laid her hand on Griffin’s cheek. “Not like you, Griffin. When you’re with me, you are completely present in the moment. You notice me, you listen to me, and you care. You make me feel treasured.”