SWNOVELS A False Start: Chapter 13
We pull up in front of the building I know so well. I told Nadia to stop asking so many questions, and she has.
“I googled you.”
But clearly, she’s still going to make statements.
“What?”
“Oh, right.” She winks at me. “Google. It’s like a modern-day library where you can look things up. I’ll demonstrate it for you sometime.”
Cute. Another old joke.
I ignore the jab and hold the door open for her. “And what did you find?”
“A very enlightening poll,” she says as I direct her into the waiting elevator while staring at her ass like a perv.
I grunt and arch a brow, signalling she has my attention before jamming the button to go up a few floors.
“I found I agree with 82% of people.”
My brow furrows. “On what?”
The elevator dings, and we filter out into the hallway. I press a hand onto the small of her back, directing her to the correct door. She shivers beneath my touch, but I force myself to ignore it.
“If your ass looks better in jeans or those tights you wore to play football. There was a side-by-side photo and everything.”
I stop, forcing a smirk off my face. This girl cracks me up. “And what did the 82% choose?”
She grins. “Jeans. Definitely jeans.”
I scoff and shake my head as her eyes trail down me. I yank my hand off her back and knock on the door before delivering a blow of my own. “Ready to meet my parents?”
I smirk at the wide-eyed, uncertain expression Nadia is giving me now. It’s a dead ringer for the one she was sporting when she watched me blow a load into my shirt with her name on my lips. I think we’re both just pretending that never happened. Which works for me.
She smooths her palms down over the blouse shirt she’s wearing. “Seriously?” She leans in and hisses at me.
She’s nervous. Unlike the dog, who is still wiggling under my arm, pulling toward her and settling for licking the air close to her face.
Me too, pal. Me fucking too.
Even nervous, Nadia is breathtakingly beautiful. Visually, she appears young, yes. But when I look into her eyes—really look into them—her soul stares back. And that part of her holds a wisdom, a weariness, beyond her years.
I’ve fixated on the years that stretch between us. The number of them. But her years have been filled with a lot more pain and suffering than most women her age.
The more time I spend with her, the more I’m struck by the fact she doesn’t feel like a twenty-one-year-old. Which is a dangerous fucking realization.
The door swings open, and my mother’s happy squeal follows. “Griffin!”
She’s already smiling when her eyes land on me. Then her gaze finds the dog, and I swear I can see cartoon hearts floating up from above her head.
When she turns her attention to Nadia, I realize I’ve made a grave mistake. Her coiffed dark bob tilts with her head, sweeping against the bright yellow shirt she’s wearing.
I swear those hearts in her eyes turn to fucking wedding bells.
“Hi, Mom.” I grimace, trying to take control of this situation as early as possible.
“Griffy, who have we got here?”
She looks like that creepy goddamn Cheshire Cat, staring at Nadia and the dog. Like I just walked up to her with a ready-made family.
Mistake, mistake, mistake.
“You know my best friend, Stefan? This is his sister, Nadia. She’s a t-t-tech at the vet c—office and has been taking care of him.” I hold the three-legged dog out to my mom, trying not to fixate on how nervous this meeting is suddenly making me. I’m stumbling over my words like a total idiot. “My new dog,” I clarify.
Fuck. That clears nothing up at all.
“Nadia, this is my mom, Joan.”
My mother takes the dog into her arms and smiles down at him, letting him lick her chin like the excited little spaz that he is. “Well, this is just lovely. Come on in, you two.” And then she spins on her heel, swaggering far too happily into the condo, all windows and patio space that opens up onto the golf course.
We step in through the door, and Nadia nudges her slender shoulder up against mine. “Griffy.” Her eyes dance with amusement, and I groan. All I wanted to show Nadia is that plenty of people have lasting, healthy relationships. It’s not as rare as she thinks, and my parents are an excellent example. I was trying to be nice for once.
She drops her voice and her breath fans out over my neck as she leans in close. “We kissed once. Don’t tell me you’re so wholesome that you think you need to introduce me to your parents now.”
I can’t help but chuckle and shake my head as I shuck off my boots. Wholesome. Don’t think I’ve ever been accused of that. I lean back in close to her, using my height to tower above her. I don’t touch her, but I drop in close enough to her ear that I could press my lips against her easily. Desire courses through me. The way she smells is a constant reminder of that one kiss. My brain has created a pathway based on that smell alone.
I’m fucking Pavlov’s dog.
“Call me Griffy again, and I’ll spank you like the little brat that you are.” The words are out before I can stop myself. They’re suspended between us, and I wish I could grab them and shove them back in.
Nadia doesn’t look as mortified as me. In fact, her warm brown eyes are downright molten. “I’ll keep that in mind, Mr. Sinclaire.”
And then she fucking winks at me before waltzing down the hallway into my parent’s home. “I love your condo, Joan. What a beautiful view.”
I can hear them chat. But I need a few seconds to get a grip on the swelling in my pants. And also, to beat myself up for thinking this was a remotely good idea.
By the time I’ve composed myself enough to join them in the kitchen, my mom has cornered Nadia and is talking her ear off about the dog and how he came to be as she gets started making a coffee.
“Has Griffin told you about pour-over coffee yet?”
Nadia smiles, and it’s genuine as she drops her elbows onto the kitchen island to watch the painstaking process go down. “Not yet.”
Each coffee is going to take like ten minutes to make, which means I’m going to be stuck here watching Nadia bend herself over the counter like she’s fucking asking for it.
I don’t need coffee. I need a cold shower.
“Griff, you didn’t tell me you hit a dog.” Her brow crinkles like she’s concerned as she scans me. I know what she’s thinking, and I feel like shit for giving her enough reasons in the past to think about it at all.
I give a brief shake of my head to help do away with her concern. “I took my eyes off the road to reach for my gum.”
Cinnamon gum is my new whiskey. So, I’m not sure it’s any better than being drunk.
“Ah.” My mom turns her focus down at the dog, who is drinking out of a small glass bowl she’s put out for him. “Well, you never have done things the easy way, so why just go get a dog at a shelter when you can do it this way?”
I laugh, because how can I not? She’s one hundred percent correct.
“In a roundabout way, Griffin kind of saved him. When he brought him in, the dog was malnourished and matted. I think he’d been on his own for a while. In definite need of a little TLC.”
Nadia smiles down at the dog, oblivious to the way my mom is looking at us. I can see the questions in Mom’s eyes. I know it’s killing her not to ask why I brought Nadia here. But also know that she understands me well enough to know that if she asks too many questions, I’ll pull away.
So, I look at Nadia instead. She’s not normal or happy. She’s so much more.
“That’s a lovely way to think of it, Nadia,” my mom says, knocking me off my train of thought. But I still don’t look at her. I can’t peel my eyes off the girl bent over the kitchen counter. The curve of her ass, the swell of her breasts above the marble countertop.
I eye fuck the hell out of Nadia to keep my gaze away from my mother’s. I’m a mess. This is why I live alone in the woods. Because it’s never enough. Never enough wins—until I crash. Never enough whiskey—until I’ve pissed my life away. Never enough friendship—because the longer I stare at Nadia, the more certain I am that I’ll let Stefan down eventually, too.
“Yeah. Lucky dog. I had to hit him to save him. Just call me a hero.” I roll my eyes and drag my hand through my hair, trying to lighten the mood. Trying to make these two women stop treating me like I’m a saint.
That’s the exact moment that the front door flips open. “Babe, that coffee smells incredible.” I don’t need to see my dad to recognize the sound of him dragging his clubs and propping them up in the hallway. “I can’t wait to—”
He walks in, his vast frame and barrel-chest filling the hallway. He stops what he’s saying as the dog runs up to him, body vibrating with excitement at another person to see. He’s gonna be in for a shock when we head back up the mountain in a couple of months and it’s just the two of us.
And then, in all his excitement, the dog pees at my dad’s feet, yellow liquid spraying all over the floor. I drop my face into my hands and groan, but my dad’s boisterous laugh fills the room.
“Joan, why don’t you get this excited to see me anymore?”
My mom giggles. She giggles. “Because I’d be the one stuck cleaning it up.”
At that, I hear Nadia laugh. It’s melodic and laced with just a bit of disbelief.
This is what I wanted Nadia to see. That two people can be happy together. Gentle together. There can be trust and love, and she isn’t too broken to have this.
She just hasn’t met a man who deserves it with her yet. One that’s willing to work hard enough to have it. Because this side of Nadia will have to be earned.
“Hey, little fella.” My dad bends down and scoops up the small dog, chuckling as he does. He steps over the mess on the floor, like it’s no big deal. “What’s your name?”
“Tripod,” Nadia pipes up.
I scoff as I push past her to get some paper towels, poking a finger into her ribs as subtly as I can. “I’m not naming my dog Tripod.”
“I already named him. So, you don’t need to.” She laughs, but everyone else is quiet.
“You call him what you want. I’m not going to name him something that’s a joke. He deserves better.”
“You named your horse Spot, for crying out loud.” She stands up and holds her hands out wide.
“I didn’t mean to,” I grumble. “It just sort of stuck.” But everyone ignores me in favor of Nadia and Tripod. Whose name is clearly sticking too. And I don’t hate that she’s the one who named him.
“She brings up a good point,” my dad interjects. “I’m not sure we’ve met. I’m Doug.” He shoves his free hand toward Nadia, smiling as he takes her in.
“Nadia.”
“She’s Stefan’s little sister,” I grumble as I crouch down to spray the pee spot and wipe it up.
“Your friend?”
“Yup.”
I wipe one more time until I’m satisfied it’s clean and head to the garbage beneath the sink.
“Is he okay with this?” I turn back around, and my father is gesturing between us.
“There is no this,” I blurt, wanting to clear any confusion.
Nadia rolls her lips together to cover a smile. Brat.
“We’re just friends. I’ve been giving Nadia riding lessons.”
My dad can barely hold back his guffaw as he says, “Is that what kids these days are calling it?”
Good. God. What was I thinking? It’s like I completely forgot how ridiculous my parents are.
“Douglas,” my mom scolds him with a playful slap to the chest before turning back to her coffee set up.
When my eyes land on Nadia, she has her fist pressed against her lips, and her body is shaking with laughter.
“Tell them, Nadia.”
“Tell them what?” She turns her doe eyes on me, and I know I’m so screwed if I push this. Nadia is a lot of things, but shy isn’t one of them, and I suspect she’s not above revealing the things we’ve done that are better left unsaid.
“I don’t know why I thought this was a good idea,” is all I say back. I try to give her a serious glare, but she bursts out laughing.
“Me neither, son. Me neither.” My dad continues to chuckle as he walks toward the living room. “This way, Nadia. Take a load off. Let’s chat.”
“I’d love that, Mr. Sinclaire.” She pushes off the counter, bumping her hip against mine as she walks past, and I see the corner of her lips tip up as she does.
Brat.
Nadia and I walk silently down the hallway toward the elevator.
Coffee with my parents turned out to be nice. Once they both settled down a bit and everyone had their extremely involved cups of coffee in hand, the conversation flowed easily. The dog curled up on my mother’s lap and was snoring happily in no time. And I didn’t even stumble over my words, which was a nice change.
I expected taking Nadia to my parents’ place would give her some perspective. What I didn’t expect was for her to fit in so seamlessly. I didn’t expect it to feel like something else entirely, like she’s the missing piece of the puzzle.
My dad invited her golfing with him for crying out loud. My mom is sending her links for where to purchase a special kettle so she can start making pour-over coffee too. She wasn’t supposed to be funny and charming and make my parents welcome her into the fold of our family unit like she’s some long-standing friend.
But Nadia is funny and charming. Her energy is infectious. It’s like she makes everyone around her happier.
Even the dog is enamored.
Everyone except me is now officially calling him Tripod. And I’m pretty sure my parents are in love with Nadia and think grandbabies are on the way, no matter how many times I assured them we’re just friends.
I tossed the word friend in everywhere I could, as well as emphasizing our age difference a few times. It didn’t stop my dad from whispering in my ear when he gave me a parting hug. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”
Fuckin’ dick. So, I poked him in the stomach. “Getting soft, old man.”
Then my mom went from whispering something in Nadia’s ear to piping up and saying, “Hardly.”
Gag. That was my cue to leave. I latched Tripod to his leash with one hand and grabbed Nadia’s bicep with the other and dragged us all out of there, tossing a promise to visit again soon over my shoulder.
I always look forward to visiting with my parents, but I have never brought any woman home with me, and I severely underestimated their ability to play it cool.
We stand silently at the bank of elevators, and I watch the floor numbers light up as it speeds toward us. Nadia slants her head toward me, eyeing the place where I’m still holding her bicep.
Truth is, I don’t want to let her go. I’m comforted by how well she rolled with the punches in there. My parents were acting fucking insane, and she seemed like she was enjoying the hell out of it.
“That’s a firm grip you’ve got there.” Her eyes flick up to my profile because I’m still trying not to look at her. “Am I in trouble, Mr. Sinclaire?”
“Nadia.” My tone is full of warning. It makes me sound old and creepy when she calls me Mr. Sinclaire.
“What?” She stares openly now and when those elevator doors slide open, I pull her into the blissfully empty elevator with me, eager to put as much space as possible between my parents and what I’m about to do.
She hums in amusement as the doors slide shut, clearly enjoying agitating me.
The minute the doors close, my hand with the leash darts out and slams into the red emergency stop button. And then I turn, drop the leash, and press Nadia up against the mirrored wall of the elevator, one hand still on her upper arm while the other slides across the taper of her waist. Her eyes widen, but she doesn’t cower. In fact, she looks downright pleased.
“What, Griffin?” she taunts as my jaw pops under the pressure of my teeth grinding.
This woman tests every piece of patience I possess. I should step away from her, take my hands off her. I should keep this side of myself under wraps from her.
She’s been roughed up enough in her life. The last thing she needs is me man-handling her. And I would manhandle the hell out of her. She’d love it. There’s no doubt about that. I’ve had no complaints in that department. Quite the opposite, in fact. But gentle I am not. Making love I don’t do.
“Say it.” Her free hand lands on the waistband of my jeans, and my body goes tense. She slides her dainty fingers beneath the front of my shirt, trailing a nail over the ridge of my hip bone, forcing a low ache to take hold at the base of my spine.
If I don’t get control of this and stop it now, I’ll be fucking her against the wall of this elevator. Which is not what she needs.
I shoot back like I just touched a hot stove, pressing myself against the opposite wall, trying to put as much space between us as I can while being locked in this fucking box of temptation. My breathing comes in quick frustrated pants. “Call my dad and me Mr. Sinclaire within a few minutes of each other again and—”
“And what, Griffin? You gonna spank me for that, too?” Her top teeth press down into her pillowy bottom lip. “Or are you going to kiss me again and then tell me I’m a mistake?”
A low rumble takes root in my chest. My entire body is rigid, my will to stay away from her melting with every second I spend staring at her. The imprint of her fingers still burns on my abs.
I need to get the fuck away from her. The last thing I need to do is torpedo what little semblance of happiness I’ve created in my life by not being able to keep my dick in my pants around Nadia Dalca.
My hand slams into the red button, and we lurch back into motion.