Welcoming the Bad Boy: A Hero's Welcome Novel (5 page)

Griffin stacked three different types of meat between his bread. Then he spread a thin layer of avocado inside, making sandwich perfection. Heading to the table in the corner of his dining room, his stomach rumbled. As uneventful as the day had been, he’d still missed lunch.

His phone buzzed at his side. Ignoring it, he sunk his teeth into the lightly toasted bread.
So good.
These were a family specialty. All of his aunts, uncles, and cousins made their sandwiches the same way. Griffin had parted ways with them, too, after learning about his adoption. He’d made a clean break with his life up to that point. He’d always felt like the black sheep of the Black family, getting in trouble all the time, never making straight A’s no matter how hard he studied. Suddenly it all made sense. All of these things were because he didn’t belong. So Griffin had done himself and everyone else a favor—or so he’d thought at the time—and left.

Griffin chewed, pushing down the thoughts of his family. Maybe it was his aunt Becky calling to check on his mother, he thought, glancing over at the phone. It stopped buzzing. He needed to call his aunt back. He’d been able to reconnect with her when he’d gone down to get his mother. Like the prodigal son, everyone in his extended family had welcomed him back into their lives, as if he’d never left.

Everyone except his mother, who could no longer remember who he was.

The phone started ringing again.

Setting his sandwich down, he reached for it. He didn’t recognize the number displayed on the screen. Whoever the caller was, they were determined to talk to him tonight, though. “Hello,” he said.

“Griffin?” The female voice on the other line shook a little as she said his name.

“Yeah?”

“It’s Val Hunt.”

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s Sweet Cheeks,” she said, her voice turning squeaky on the edges. “She ate a carton of chocolate ice cream and I know chocolate can be dangerous for dogs. She’s just lying on the couch and I’m not sure what to do. The veterinary office is closed until morning, and—” She was talking a mile a minute.

“Slow down. You fed the dog ice cream?” he asked, trying to understand.

“No. Yes. Not intentionally. Griffin, I’m scared she’s going to die. I didn’t know who else to call. What do I do?”

“Wait for me. I’ll be right over.” He scooted back from the table and carried his sandwich to the refrigerator. This trumped a sandwich. Trooper followed under Griffin’s command. Griffin grabbed a T-shirt from a pile of clean laundry in a basket and pulled it over his white tank top. Grabbing the keys to his Ford Explorer, he gave Trooper the command to follow and they headed out into the night.

It only took him ten minutes to get to Val’s apartment. “Stay,” he told Trooper, climbing out of his SUV. When he rang the doorbell, he didn’t hear the little dog yapping behind it. That would’ve been a welcome sound tonight. The door opened a second later, and Val breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of him. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot. Dried tears shimmered on her cheeks in the light.

“It’s going to be fine,” he said, trying to soothe her fears. “Where’s the puppy?” he asked, refusing to utter the words “Sweet Cheeks.” Who in their right mind named their dog Sweet Cheeks?

“On the couch.” She led him over to the living room, her breaths shuddering through her. “Is she going to be okay? I don’t want to kill Alma’s dog. It’s her baby.”

He crouched beside the sofa and smiled at the pup, whose eyes were tilted in discomfort. “You got a little greedy, didn’t you, girl?” he asked, softening his voice. “It’s all right. Let me take a look at you.” He gently rubbed the puppy’s belly. It was firm and protruding. His gaze moved to the empty ice cream container, half the size of the little dog. “Was it full?”

Val shook her head. “No. Maybe a quarter of the way full.”

The label said
CHOCOLATE CHIP
. That was good. It meant there’d been a minimal amount of chocolate. People tended to think a dog’s heart would explode with the caffeine and theobromine. Some veterinarian somewhere had placed the fear of that in every pet owner’s heart. It was true, large amounts of the stimulants could be lethal to dogs, but the chocolate chip ice cream that this puppy had consumed likely didn’t have enough to cause real harm. The dairy might upset its stomach, though.

“Well?” Val said, crouching beside him. Instead of vanilla cookies, tonight she smelled like lavender, a scent that had a reputation for being calming. He didn’t feel calm right now, though. He felt like leaning closer to the woman beside him and doing things that were downright sinful in some minds. Probably in the mind of a preacher’s daughter.

“I think she’ll be fine. We should monitor her, though. Just in case.”

“We?” she asked, uncertainty lining her voice.

He turned to look at her. Big mistake, because at this close range, he wanted to do a lot more than lean into her. He wanted to kiss those pouty rose petal lips of hers. Clearing his throat, he shook his head. “Unless you want to monitor on your own.”

“No,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “I’ve never had a dog before. I don’t know what to do with a sick dog.”

He laughed. “The same thing you would do with a sick person. Take them to the doctor.” He inspected the worry on her face. Her blue eyes were huge against her pale skin. “I can stay a little while. If Sweet…” He paused, unable to utter such a ridiculous name. “Would that make you feel better?”

She paused, looking between him and the puppy.

He wanted her to say yes to him staying so much that he needed her to say no. He needed a woman complicating his life like he needed a hole in his head. His mother was already doing a good job of that anyway.

“Okay,” Val said softly. “Please stay.”

Well, damn.
Things just got a little more complicated.

Val swallowed. Her mouth felt a little dry as she ignored the possible ramifications of allowing a man in her home in the evening. Just the two of them. The first consequence being that her father would no doubt get wind of this by tomorrow morning. This was a small town, and her father’s congregation had a habit of telling on her.

Pushing those thoughts away, she considered the bigger problem. She was attracted to Griffin. Very attracted. After their conversation outside the nursing home the other day, however, there was no possibility of romance between them. Just as well, because she needed to be focused on things like, oh, writing her next book, which was due by summer’s end. A book she hadn’t even started yet. A fresh wave of anxiety ran through her.

Sweet Cheeks whimpered at Griffin’s side. Val watched as Griffin picked the puppy up and cradled her like a baby. Something about watching a big guy like him being so gentle made butterflies flutter around inside her chest.

“Can I get you something? A beer maybe?” she asked.

Griffin met her gaze. His eyes were dark, just like his hair and his tanned skin. In the dim lighting of her living room, he looked delicious. “I have my dog, Trooper, in my Explorer. He can’t stay out there. Can I bring him inside?”

Val nodded. “Okay. Do you think Trooper will be okay with Sweet Cheeks?”

“Oh, yeah. Trooper loves other dogs. He’s an old softy.”

Val lifted her shoulders, fidgeting. She suddenly didn’t know where to put her hands. In her pockets, in front of her, one hand holding the other? All she really wanted to do with her hands was run them over Griffin’s muscled arms, so tight she could probably bounce things off them. She wanted to trace her fingers over the tattoos that could only be halfway seen under his black T-shirt. Some chains. An eagle.

“What?” Griffin was watching her with knowing eyes.

“N-nothing. Of course, you can go get your dog. I’ll watch Sweet Cheeks. Are you hungry?” she asked, hoping he hadn’t heard her blaring thoughts.

“I was just about to have a sandwich before you called, actually,” he said.

“A sandwich? I can make you a sandwich.”

He laughed as he stood to walk toward the door. “No, you can’t. I’m what people call a sandwich snob.”

Val cocked her head in question.

“I’m picky about what goes between my bread.”

And somehow that sounded strangely sexual to her. She was definitely an embarrassment to the term “preacher’s daughter.” No wonder her father’s expression always looked pinched when he was addressing her. “Okay. Well, can I get you something else? Do you like pizza? I ordered pizza yesterday.”

“Cold pizza sounds great. And I’ll take that beer you offered, too,” he said.

“Great. What good would cold pizza be without beer?” she asked.

Griffin smiled, slow and easy. “My kind of girl,” he said before slipping out into the dark night.

Her heart thumped around in her chest as she waited for his return.
Get a grip, girl.
He was only here to care for the dog she’d nearly just killed. That was all. And thanks to her negligence, there would be no writing tonight. Or tomorrow since she’d be cooking for the Martins and then spending the evening caring for their nine-month-old daughter while they packed for their move to Virginia. And there’d likely be no writing after getting home tomorrow because nothing killed the muse like changing dirty diapers.

She pulled the pizza out of the fridge and grabbed two paper plates. Her plan tonight had been to have ice cream for dinner—not the healthiest, but sometimes life called for it. Sweet Cheeks had nixed that plan, though. Val grabbed two beers and brought them over to the coffee table in front of the couch. Alcohol might calm her nerves, she hoped, turning as Griffin walked back in with his German shepherd. The sight of the big gray-and-black dog made her heart skip in a different way.

“Big softy,” Griffin reminded her, seeming to read her mind.

“Right.” Val stood as Griffin led Trooper toward her and Sweet Cheeks. With an excited wag of his tail, Val’s heart was won over. “Hey, there,” she said, reaching out her hand.

Trooper sniffed her for a moment, then glanced up at Griffin as if asking permission.

“Go ahead,” he said with a laugh.

Trooper’s tongue lapped over Val’s skin and she grinned.

“Lie down,” Griffin said then.

Trooper followed orders, lying on the floor beside the couch. His gaze moved to Sweet Cheeks leaning against the armrest of the sofa.

“I’m going to go wash my hands before eating,” Val said. She pointed at the coffee table. “That’s yours.”

She washed up and headed back to her plate. “Why aren’t you eating?” she asked, noticing that Griffin had sat, but still hadn’t taken a bite of his pizza.

“Waiting for you.”

Val sat beside Sweet Cheeks, careful not to disturb her. “Aww. That’s nice. I never would’ve pegged you as a gentleman.”

“Why?” he asked, picking up his slice of pizza.

“I don’t know.” She lifted a shoulder, taking note of his arms again.

“Because I have tattoos?” he asked.

Val’s mouth fell open until she caught him smiling. “This is a military community. Lots of people have tattoos. But you also drive a motorcycle, wear dark sunglasses, rarely crack a smile. Your whole look screams badass. So, yes,” she admitted. “All of those things are in direct opposition to what a gentleman looks like in my book.”

Griffin bit into his pizza. She took a bite of hers, too.

“I see. Well, you should never judge a book by its cover,” he said. “My mother was very high on manners when I was growing up. Treating a lady well was very important to her.” He set his pizza down and reached for his beer. “And she didn’t approve of tattoos or motorcycles, which is why I got them. At least at first.”

Val understood. She’d done a lot of things her father disapproved of, sometimes solely because she knew he didn’t like them. “Sounds like you love your mother very much.” Val glanced over to check on Sweet Cheeks, whose eyes were closed. Her little belly moved up and down as she breathed. “I’m sorry about what’s going on with her,” Val said, returning her attention to Griffin.

His eyes seemed to grow impossibly darker. “It’s life, right?” His tone sounded light, but his expression betrayed him.

“Right.” Val had seen a lot of people with Alzheimer’s while volunteering at the nursing home. It was a heartbreaking illness that no one should have to go through. And, in her experience, it was even harder for the family than it was for the person whose memory was fading.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, finishing off their pizza and drinking their beers.

Val glanced across the room and started giggling, softly at first and then she was clutching her side.

Griffin’s lips curved as he watched her. “What’s funny?”

“Nothing.” She shook her head. She and beer didn’t mix, that was all. It was good to melt away the tension and get her in the mood for writing, but sometimes in the presence of other people, it made her silly. Especially when there was a full-sized blow-up man-doll in the corner.

Dear God,
she hoped Griffin wouldn’t notice. She had no clue how she’d explain the doll to him if he did. It’d been hard enough explaining the gift to her father.

“Doesn’t look like nothing to me. You’re laughing so hard you’re crying,” he observed.

This was true. Tears squeezed from her eyes. “I’m fine.” She blew out a breath, trying to collect herself. “Beer just gets me sometimes.”

“I see. So you’re not laughing about that blow-up doll in the corner?” he asked.

Heat smacked her upside the cheeks. “Doll?” Like she could play it off. She lived alone. It belonged to her. She had to own it. “It was a gift.”

His eyebrow hooked. “From who?”

“A friend. A friend who thinks I need a, um…”

“Man?” he asked, completing her sentence for her.

“Something like that.” This was embarrassing. Nikki would laugh hysterically about this when she recapped tomorrow. Why couldn’t she have sent a calendar of hot men instead? Something smaller and easier to hide from houseguests.

Val pulled her lower lip between her teeth. “Well,” she said, standing and collecting their empty plates and beer bottles. “What shall we do while we wait for Sweet Cheeks to feel better?”