A False Start: A Small Town Brother’s Best Friend Romance (Gold Rush Ranch Book 4)

I may not be ready to hand my heart over to a man yet, but I don’t need to waste my time with the likes of Tommy Koss either. Protecting myself doesn’t mean settling.

I realized that on my walk home, which is why I’m here pushing through the front door of Neighbor’s Pub. He’s not answering his phone, and I need to talk to him now. Suddenly, getting rid of Tommy is like an itch I just have to scratch.

I can’t wait. I need to clear my conscience.

Even if I can’t have anything with Griffin, I don’t want anything with Tommy. I know we’re not anything—something that is confirmed by the girl snuggled up next to him when I walk into the bar.

Color me not surprised. I knew I’d find him here.

“Hey, Tommy,” I say as I stroll up to the table where he sits with all his friends. Cheap beer and red plastic baskets from their wings litter the table.

“Hey, Nadia.” He smiles up at me and doesn’t even bother to remove his arm from the back of the blonde’s chair. Can’t say the guy doesn’t have a type.

“Can I talk to you for a sec?” I nod my head to somewhere behind me. I don’t need a lot of time or privacy to say what I have to say. Based on how cozy he seems with this other girl, I don’t have to say anything at all. But I feel the need all the same.

This is part of what my therapist and I discussed. I can’t control other people’s actions. But I can control my own.

And I can control my reactions. My life, my choices. I don’t live under anyone’s thumb anymore.

“Yeah.” His brow furrows. “Sure. Of course.” He stands, and the other girl gives me a wan smile, and I give her a small one back. I almost want to wish her luck with the colossal idiot.

“Just over here is good,” I say, right as I turn and smack into a solid wall of muscle.

“Easy, brother.” Tommy’s hand reaches over my shoulder and lands on the chest in front of me. The one clad in a denim button down I recognize from earlier. The pearl buttons stare back at me. “Back on the sauce, huh?”

My head snaps back to glare at Tommy, who has a downright evil smirk on his face.

“Pardon me?” I ask, feeling the heat from Griffin’s chest seeping into the front of my body.

“Ah, yeah. You didn’t grow up here. Football star turned town drunk. Guess that didn’t come up at dinner the other night, huh?”

I swear my heart almost stops beating as I turn slowly to gaze up into Griffin’s beautiful face. Drunk. He wasn’t drunk that night, was he? He didn’t taste drunk. I want to get lost in his eyes and see the truth of it, but he’s not focused on me, he’s staring right past me. At Tommy.

And my God, if looks could kill.

A muscle in his jaw jumps, and my words grace his lips. “Not all of us are normal, happy people.” I blink, hearing him in a way that no one else can.

Then his hard eyes turn down at me. A war rages in their depths. There’s so much to unpack—shame, desire, humiliation, anger. A man with eyes like that should send me running after what I’ve lived through. But if Griffin is a flame, I’m a moth, destined to dance in his flames. My sense of self-preservation goes out the window when he looks at me like that.

If Griffin Sinclaire told me to jump off a bridge, I just might.

“Goodnight, Wildflower,” he says, his hand cupping my elbow and giving me a gentle squeeze before he turns toward the back exit. His touch is so sweet, it aches all the way up into my shoulder.

And then he’s gone, walking away. His normally broad shoulders slump under the weight of whatever he’s carrying with him.

I can control my reactions.

Spinning on Tommy, I hold up a hand to stop whatever dumb shit he’s about to say. I’m mad, spitting mad. “That was rude. That was cruel. And my life is full up on cruel men, Tommy. This? You and me?” I gesture between us. “Never going to happen. Never.”

Before he can respond, I’m gone, jogging across the bar to the darkened hallway that leads out back, letting my heart drag me out of this place without a backward glance. I need to be near him right now.

“Nadia! Wait!” Tommy calls, but he doesn’t come after me. Thank God, he’s consistent in his flakiness.

I pass the men’s room where whatever this is between Griffin and I began.

Romantic, Nadia.

My heart aches. I don’t know what his story is, but I know Griffin is a good man. A deeply good man. A man who doesn’t want to betray his friend, a man who is killing himself to resist this thing between us because he thinks it’s a mistake.

And maybe it is.

But maybe it’s not.

Letting him leave this place, thinking that I’m in any way aligned with what Tommy just said, would be a mistake.

I poke my head into the men’s bathroom and am met with a “Get the fuck out!” from a man who is not Griffin.

Which leaves me with the rear exit. He could be gone by now, but I feel a pull in that direction I can’t ignore.

It’s dark out back, and it smells like grease. I look left and there’s nothing but huge garbage bins and some employee vehicles in the otherwise sparse gravel lot. I look right, and there is Griffin, leaned up against the stucco wall, hands pinned behind his lower back as he stares up at the navy-blue sky twinkling with bright constellations.

He doesn’t move to recognize my presence, but he knows I’m here. And me? I stand and watch him. He reminds me of a cornered animal. Wild. Feral. Distressed.

With a few small steps, I’m standing in front of him, his gaze still trained on the stars.

“You gotta stop coming after me.” He swallows audibly.

I nod because he’s probably right. That would be the smart thing to do. But I’ve already established I don’t do smart things where he’s concerned.

So, I take a deep breath and shoot my shot. “Okay. I’ll stop tomorrow.” I step in closer. My breasts press against his firm chest as I snake my arms around his ribs.

I tuck my head under his chin, and I hug him. I grip him. We don’t talk because we don’t need to. I feel the tension leaving his body, seeping out slowly. And I’m happy to absorb it all. Taking someone else’s pain is a hell of a lot better than stewing in my own.

Eventually he rasps, “You shouldn’t be out here with me when your boyfriend is in there, Nadia.”

I roll my lips together and inhale deeply through my nose, wanting to wrap myself in his scent. Pine and laundry soap. “I came here tonight only to tell him we would never happen. I think I made myself clear.”

Griffin’s body heaves beneath mine, like he’s relieved by what I just told him. And then his arms come out from behind his back. He drapes them over my shoulders and drops his bearded cheek onto the top of my head.

He nuzzles me. Wrapped up in his strong arms . . . it’s heaven.

If I were a cat, I’d straight up purr right now.

“Good. You can do better.” His voice is quiet, but that doesn’t matter when we’re pressed up against each other like this. I can feel him breathing, I can feel his heart beating. If he’s the ocean, I just want to ride the waves.

“I can,” I murmur back, fisting the back of his denim shirt in my fingers.

In Griffin’s arms, I’m more at peace than I ever have been, and I can’t explain why.

“I’m not better.” His voice cracks.

“Okay.” I’m not going to argue with him. That’s not what he needs right now. He needs someone to lean on, not pretty words.

“I’m an alcoholic. Haven’t touched a drop in years. But I’ll still always be one.”

“Okay.”

“That should send you running.” His voice picks up a sharper tone.

“Okay.” I snuggle in closer. If he’s trying to scare me away, it won’t work.

“I’ve been with more women than the number of years you’ve been alive.”

I snort. “Okay.” Then I press a chaste kiss to his sternum, right over his heart.

A growl erupts from his chest, and he spins us, pressing me up against the wall, his arms above my head, caging me in. I’m certain he’s trying to intimidate me, but I’ve felt nothing short of safe around Griffin, and right now is no exception.

I know how the air changes when a man wants to hurt you, I know how he looks at you—with disgust, with contempt—and for all his grumbling, Griffin has never looked at me that way.

“Jesus Christ, Nadia.” His gaze frantically roams my face. “Don’t you get it? I’m bad news. I’m profoundly unavailable. I’ve got nothing to give you,” he whisper-shouts.

I’ve got nothing to give him, either. “Okay,” I murmur. His entire body vibrates, and his pulse jumps in his neck. I can see it. I lick my lips as I watch it, getting lost in the rhythm.

“Nadia. This can’t happen.”

Even hidden behind the pub, it feels like we’re sneaking around. I want to point out that I’m not the one keeping him here. But I just stare up into his fathomless dark eyes. Everything about him screams raw masculinity. He makes me weak in the knees.

A small smile touches my lips. A smirk. A challenge. “Okay.”

One of his hands slides through his dark hair, tugging at the ends in frustration. “Fuck.” He checks over his shoulder, one arm still plastered to the wall above my head, protecting me. I can tell he’s agitated. He looks mad, but not at me. In an instant, his face snaps back down to mine, and his breath dances across my damp lips when he scolds, “You drive me c—”

I quirk a brow. “What?”

His jaw pops, and he draws imperceptibly closer.

“C-c—”

“Say it. I dare you.” I move my face toward him, the tips of our noses brushing together. He looks like he could kill me, in the best way possible.

A sigh leaves him in a ragged whoosh. Goosebumps dance across my arms under the muggy night air. His voice is like a feather dragging across my skin as we face off. “You drive me crazy.”

And then he kisses me.

His free hand cups the back of my skull, and he crushes his lips against mine. For a second, I freeze. I wanted him to kiss me, goaded him into it, but I’m not sure I thought he would give in.

I catch up fast, kissing him back with every bit of emotion I can dredge up. He won’t believe me if I tell him he’s good for me. Instead, I’ll have to show him.

My lips move against his frantically, fingers grappling with the hemline of his shirt. All I know is that I want my hands on his body. I want to feel him. I want more than he’s willing to give me.

I tug at the tails of his shirt in frustration, and then pull until I hear the sharp snapping noise of those pearl clasps pulling apart. I moan against his mouth when my palms slide up over his bare abdomen, tracing the lines of that delicious V that disappears beneath his jeans. The one I’ve fantasized about since I saw him on the couch last week.

A moan slips out between us. I can’t even tell whose it is. His skin pebbles beneath my touch, and his cock swells against my thigh.

“Fuck. Nadia.” He breathes my name against my lips, raspy and full of awe. It’s so clear to me that whatever this connection is, it isn’t one-sided.

His teeth press into my bottom lip with a firm nip, and I arch into him, urging him on. Wanting more. Every nerve ending in my body buzzes as my body bows into his. My head tips back, and Griffin takes that as an invitation to move his mouth onto my neck as my hands slide up to wrap around the back of his.

First a kiss, then another bite. I jump at the pinching sensation, but then his tongue is there, soothing the sting and driving me crazy. I hold his head close, desperate for more. He moves to the other side and bites me again, right where my neck slopes into my shoulder.

“You are fucking delicious. So responsive for me.” His fingers curl into a fist in my hair and he pulls, forcing my head back further, and opening my chest up to him like a platter to feast on.

And he does.

Teeth drag, lips press searing kisses in the wake of his mouth. The tip of his tongue dances over every aching spot, twirling and teasing as he works his way down to the tops of my breasts.

“These . . .” His nose trails over one peak as he bends over my heaving body, one hand still completely entangled in my hair. “Are fucking perfect.”

Then his free hand darts down and yanks the neckline of my tank top down, taking the cup of my bra with it.

He sucks a breath in right as all the air whooshes out of my lungs. Like he stole the breath right out of my body. We stare down at my exposed breast, the swell of it pushed up by the clothing pulled beneath, my nipple pointing upward, right at him.

Griffin raises his eyes—dancing with flames and an utter lack of control—to mine. I love this expression on his face. I love what it does to me. We stare at each other for a few seconds, the sound of our mutual heavy breathing loud in my ears.

Something passes between us. A question. An answer. An agreement. And then his sinful lips latch on to my nipple, and I moan, letting my lashes flutter shut as I get lost in the feeling of his mouth on my body.

The way my body makes him lose control.

He pulls his hand free of my hair and uses it to yank down the opposite side of my shirt so that it props up both my tits for him.

“Fucking look at you, Wildflower.” His hands squeeze firmly, bordering on too firm, but then he pulls back, always brushing away a hard touch with a soft one. The perfect balance. “So fucking smooth and pretty.” He moves to the other breast, leaving the other nipple wet and achingly hard as the night breeze flows over my skin.

He sucks my nipple in and then lets it go with a loud pop before pulling a couple inches back and staring at my exposed breast like he’s having some sort of religious experience. “So willing. So eager to please.”

God. Damn.

I try to squeeze my thighs together to ease the throbbing between them, but he shoves his muscular leg between them, keeping me pushed up against the wall, and I grind myself on him instead.

The relief that motion gives me is addictive. I do it again, feeling delicious heat bloom at the base of my spine.

“Nadia.” He says my name like a threat. I sigh in pleasure, loving the way his deep voice rumbles around in his broad chest. It’s so intense with his shirt unbuttoned, I can almost see his body vibrate when he does.

I swivel my hips, rubbing myself on him, getting lost in the sensation of being surrounded by him. Of holding his attention in this way.

His calloused fingers dig into my breast. “Do that again and I won’t be accountable for what I do next.”

My eyelids feel heavy, but I drag them up from his bare chest all the same. My tongue darts out, wetting the seam of my lips. And then I whimper, knowing I’m about to set him off and not really caring.

I look him dead in the eye and grind myself on him again.

“You’re impossible.” His voice is deadly quiet.

Then one hand shoots up, wrapping around my throat, pushing me against the wall. Firm, but gentle, completely in control. The other grips my bare breast as he clamps onto the skin there with his teeth.

“Ah,” I cry out, the bite startling me. But the pain doesn’t last. Not when he uses the hand on my throat to push me down onto his leg. And I let him. I surrender to the motion and feel my slick pussy sliding across damp panties.

I’m mindless with him.

The way he manhandles me is like nothing I’ve known. I have experience, but none of it prepared me for Griffin Sinclaire.

“Are you going to come grinding on my leg, Nadia?” His words are almost taunting, but I have little time to think about them before he moves over and gives my other breast the same treatment.

The press of his teeth—it’s addictive. It’s savage and unhinged and out of control and makes me feel more alive than I ever have. More desired than I ever have.

When he removes his mouth to admire his handiwork, I let my eyes travel down over myself. My pink nails tangle in his messy hair, the perfect match for the marks glowing on the soft flesh of my breasts.

“Fuck,” I breathe out. “That’s hot. No one has ever bitten me before.”

He goes rigid in my hands. I swear he stops breathing. And then he’s drawing up, flying backward like someone shoved him away from me.

The hand that was just gripping me in the most delicious way wipes across his mouth. “I’m so sorry.”

He looks like he’s going to be sick. It’s like a switch flipped in him.

“I’m so fucking sorry.”

My heart rate ratchets up as I watch him spiral, my arms limp at my sides as I use the wall behind me to keep myself upright. All that arousal knits itself into regret.

“You don’t need to apologize.”

“God.” He swallows deeply, eyes still trained on my exposed breasts. The ones I’m too shocked to tuck back away where they belong. “I really do.”

“Stop it,” I spit, my annoyance building. “Just stop. Don’t make that seem cheap when it wasn’t.”

His eyes finally meet mine. The flash of sadness in them is hard to miss. “Okay.” One hand drags through his hair, and he takes a few tentative steps toward me.

He gently runs an index finger over the mark on one breast before pulling my shirt up over it, like he can’t stand to look at it. He does the same to the other side before turning his attention back to my face, namely my lips. The ones that are still swollen from the way he kissed me. Owned me.

“Nothing about you is cheap, Nadia. You’re a fucking catch. You deserve so much more than a man who kisses you in dirty bar bathrooms or beside grease-filled dumpsters. Someone who leaves marks on your body . . . fuck.” He shakes his head. The heaviness that momentarily evaporated when we disappeared into each other is slinking back.

He can’t even make eye contact with me.

And I’m not having it. I reach up between us, capturing his chin in my fingers, gently turning his handsome face back to me. I wait until his eyes meet mine and let my thumb rub over his bearded jaw line, reveling in the feel. He’s so unlike any man I’ve ever given myself to. I’ve been playing with prissy city boys, and Griffin Sinclaire is the Wild West.

I want him right down to the tips of my toes.

“You know what I deserve?” His irises dance across my face. “Someone who needs me badly enough to take me without apology. A man who knows what he wants. A man who wants me.”

He nods, pulse jumping in his neck.

“And do you know what you deserve?”

“What?”

“A woman who feels like a goddess when you leave a mark like this on her. A woman who doesn’t want a goddamn thing from you other than to be worshipped any time, any place.” The intense way he’s staring at me almost makes me squirm. “You deserve a woman who drives you crazy every damn day, and nothing less.”

Silence stretches between us. My words hang in the air, suspended, until his deep sigh blows them away. An opportunity dashed.

I stand on my tippy toes and press a soft kiss to Griffin’s lips. He kisses me back, but it’s not the same. It’s chaste. Innocent almost. The heat is dampened.

There’s something heartbreaking about the kiss. And now, I’m the one who can’t hold his gaze.

Suddenly, I feel infinitely less experienced. Colossally foolish. Who the fuck do I think I am going after a grown-ass man like I’m some kind of siren? Like I’m not just his best friend’s sad, troublemaking little sister?

A dejected, small laugh bursts from my lips when I pull away from him, my eyes trained on the ground as I roll myself along the wall away from him.

“I hope you find her.”

And then I slink away to my car, ready to lick my wounds in private.