Taming McGruff (Book 3, Once Upon A Romance Series) (23 page)

He faced his longtime enemy. “Apparently so,” he agreed, knowing Charlie had called her from his house that night. She’d denied everything, but the girls knew different. To their credit, they agreed not to press charges or reverse what had already been done. Also, they wanted to find a way to honor his father for all he’d done for Charles King. Griff should have been satisfied with the contents of the will, his vindication, but, for his own sake, he had to play this out until the bitter end.

Mrs. King tried to force the dog to walk. He refused.

Drawing nearer, Griffin saw her in the cold light of day. The perfect updo, sprayed and held perfectly in place, didn’t change. He noted the lines feathering out of the corners of her eyes and above her upper lip, the brackets along her mouth, and her skin seemed pale. Her dark eyes, once shooting venom at him, now held a trace of fear. “What do you want? To gloat? I will never admit anything, do you understand? I should have known who you were. You look like him—big and broad, gray eyes. Who could have those same eyes but his son? What a fool I’ve been.”

“Yes, you have.”

“You are gloating.”

“No. I came here to let you know I’m done.”

“What did you say? Done? With what?”

“You. With your hold over me all these years.” He smiled, the irony of it not lost on him. “You wanted control over everything. You had it, over me. I worked, ate, and slept revenge against you. I was filled with rage over how you treated my father. I wanted to get back at you, hit you where it hurt you the most, because you had hit me where it hurt the most.”

“You have his tenacity and audacity, too.”

“I take that as a compliment.”

“Insufferable,” she muttered. “Just like him.”

“He found you out. I remember the things he’d tell me. All because you couldn’t have control over Charles King’s heart. He loved his first wife, adored her. He never got over her. But for Charlie’s sake, he wanted her to have a mother to raise her, to care for her again. You came back to King’s, stormed into his life, and used your own daughters to your advantage, because that was his weakness. Family. He assumed, if you two married, you would be the mother to his motherless child and he would be the father to your fatherless daughters.”

Tears shimmered in her eyes.

“It could have been just like that, too,” he said softly. “But your fear got the best of you. You pushed and prodded, forced yourself into every part of his life, taking control where you had no business being. Until you pushed him away.”

“How dare you,” she bit out, her lip trembling.

“Do you know the strangest thing of all, Mrs. King?” he asked. “I was just like you. All these years I pushed, more like steam-rolled, my way to the top of the retail industry, refusing to settle for anything less than success. I craved control, too, control of my destiny, because once, long ago, it was snatched from me. I swore I would never suffer at the hands of you again. But I have. It was my own doing, too. You, and my revenge against you, controlled my every waking moment.”

She seemed taken aback by his brutal honesty.

“Until your daughter came into my life.”

“Priscilla? Why, she’s just a slip of a girl.”

“She showed me that there was something more to life than living with hate in my heart. In fact, she showed me I still had a heart worth saving.”

“Apparently she doesn’t feel the same way since she’s left you.”

“Touché, Mrs. King,” he said, knowing whatever she said didn’t affect him any longer. Only what Priscilla felt and said did. He bowed slightly, saying, “I hope you will find it in
your
heart to love her and her sisters like they deserve, like Charles King longed for—for all
his
daughters.”

With that, Griffin turned his back on her and walked away. For the first time in ages, he took a deep, cleansing breath, his shoulders and heart much lighter now that he’d shaken off the demons that had tormented him for far too many years.

Now only losing Priscilla haunted him. His battered heart ached for his wife. Griff had no one to blame but himself. Long, lonely years dragged ahead of him.

***

“I think you’re onto something, sir,” Edward said, meeting Griff at the entrance to King’s.

“How so? You coming up?” Griffin asked.

“Waiting on Miss Charlie. Mr. Alex sent me to pick her up.”

Griffin followed him a few steps away from the store entrance. Edward pulled a paper from the inside of his jacket. “My contact in the department did some research. Mind you, it’s just preliminary. The records are paper only, before computers came in. There was no evidence against your father. Speculation mostly, by the grieving widow. There’s newspaper articles, condemning your father. I don’t have all the facts, but, I’m sure she paid them, slanted things her way. I’ll dig deeper.”

Griffin let it all sink in, and then held up his hand, halting Edward. “I thank you for your help, but I think I’m going to leave the past just where it belongs from now on: in the past.”

The driver looked at him closely, and then a slow smile spread across his face. “’Cause it could only hurt the ones you love more, right?”

He patted Edward on the shoulder. “Smart man, my friend, smart man.”

“I hear you. You ever need anything at all, you come see me, all right?”

“Thanks, Edward.” Griff shook his hand. “Oh, I think it’s best if you burn that paper, too.”

“Got it,” the man agreed.

A few minutes later, Griffin entered the salon; the bell tinkled. The whisper-quiet glass doors closed behind him. He spotted her immediately. Priscilla and a makeup artist helped a customer with a selection. Looking up in the mirror, she stilled when she saw him in the reflection. She said something to both ladies, and then walked to him.

Memories of their first meeting when she walked toward him in the salon took hold. They melded with this moment of her in a white silk blouse, skinny black leather pants, and high glittery pink heels. His middle clenched. She was even sexier now than that night, if that could be possible.

Her cat-like green eyes held mystery. “Griffin,” she whispered, halting in front of him.

“Priscilla,” he said softly.

“Are you here for another date?”

His heart tugged. “No. I’m sure you’d turn me down.”

Her frown made him want to reach out and smooth her brow. He didn’t have the right any longer.

“I thought you should be the first to know, I’m leaving King’s.”

She sucked in a sharp breath. “But, you’re so good at running the store…”

“I think it’s time I move on.” He didn’t want to, but it was the least he could do. “This is your store. Not mine. I don’t know how many times I can avoid you without losing my mind.”

Reaching out, she touched his chest. Heat branded him there. She pulled back, clutching her hand; she must have felt the same fire.

He hesitated. “By the way, Tabby had her kittens. Three of them. I named them T1, T2, and T3. I know how you like to name things…” He trailed off. “I sent you a picture on your phone, then I blocked your number.” He stared at her, long and hard, his heart breaking into little, splinter-like shards of glass. “Goodbye, Pixie.”

“McGruff?”

***

He’d walked out of her life.

Priscilla’s mind filled with flashes of him: big, powerful, sexy. She could barely breathe; she ached all over, her heart the worst.

That first night when she’d gone to his house, he’d barked questions at her about her safety. He’d only wanted to protect her. From him
and
his revenge, she realized, the truth finally sinking in. I can’t be trusted, he’d said. He’d done everything in his power to keep her at arm’s length.

Then his concern overshadowed his gruffness. The next morning when she’d seen his wound, something tugged inside her. His scar showed, where none of hers had. His vulnerability touched a chord in her and, over time, made her understand the jagged reminder of that combat mission was only the tip of the buried pain inside him from his turbulent childhood. He trusted her enough to let her into his private hell.

The little things he did for her—the ride on the Harley, in his Vette, the yellow smiley mug, the pink chair, inviting Dolly over to his sanctuary to bake Priscilla’s favorite cake, assuring her she had the heart of a King, taking over her blog and confessing his sins and his love for her—shook her to the core now. Most of all, he’d put aside his fears of opening his home to strangers, so she could have the chance to paint a palette, share it with the world, and fulfill
her
dream.

And he’d listened to her, allowing her to make her own choices.
Lady’s choice
.

All the while, she’d witness the tug-of-war in him, in his gray eyes. He was at battle with himself. Revenge versus redemption.

Griffin James had chosen the latter.

She’d been taken aback by his selfless act of handing over the hidden documents and the real will. He didn’t have to. He didn’t have to confess his finding the secret panels. He could have opened the envelopes, taken it all, and gone to the authorities with the evidence to clear his father’s name and salvage his damaged reputation while unleashing his revenge on her mother. He hadn’t.

Her McGruff put aside everything he’d ever dreamed of and protected her and her sisters from untoward scrutiny and scandal, unlike what her mother had done to his father. In his own unorthodox way, Griffin had unknowingly carried on his father’s honorable promise of guarding the King daughters.

You make me feel safe and cared for.

Because you are
.

But could she forgive him for all he’d done? Could she live with the regret if she never did?

***

Less than an hour later, she stood at his front door, ringing the bell. Her middle did flip-flops. The door swung open; her heart sank at the cold, hard expression on Griffin’s face.

“Did you forget something?” he asked, placing a hand on the doorframe, essentially barring her entrance. His tone, short and clipped, sliced through her.

“Yes, I did.” Her voice wobbled.

“Your ride’s leaving.” He nodded to the departing car, the red glow of taillights disappearing around the corner.

“Edward and Charlie dropped me off. I told them not to wait.”

“That was a mistake.”

“Can I come in?” she asked, holding up the takeout bag. “I brought Chinese.”

He cursed. But he did drop his hand and let her in. “What kind of game are you playing, Priscilla?”

“None, Griffin.”

His formality frightened her.
Was
it a mistake to come here?

He let her lead the way, but she turned and went into his study instead of going to the kitchen. She nearly stumbled when she spotted the jukebox. It was everything she’d imagined. “Oh, a fire,” she said lamely, going to the hearth, sitting down, and then placing the takeout bag beside her. She recalled what he’d said about her hair and skin in the firelight. Looking up, she saw the heat in his eyes. She relaxed.

“You are playing with fire.” His low warning stirred something inside her.

“You’re trying to protect me. Again.”

“It’s not working, is it?”

She shook her head.

“Why are you here? I’ve said my goodbye already.” His voice caught on the word goodbye.

No one stays
. That phrase echoed in her mind and made her heart ache. “I didn’t say mine,” she countered. “In fact, I like it here. I like living here. I like being married to you,” she whispered the last, stunned at her own admission. It wasn’t a cage; it was a liberation. His love allowed her to express herself, to be comfortable with who she was and whatever she longed to become. It was a heady type of freedom she never knew could exist between two people. He’d given that to her, unselfishly.

He sat down on the ottoman facing her, his hands lightly clasped in front of him. “What are you saying?”

She could get lost in his luminous gray eyes, now filled with light and love. Reaching out, she parted his hands and leaned her arms on his thighs, she said, “I forgive you, Griffin James. I know you must have hurt for so long and so deeply. I know how lost and alone you must have felt.” Teardrops fell. He brushed them away.

“It’s over. No more going backwards for me.”

“For us?”

“Lady’s choice,” he said, holding his breath.

“No more lies,” she demanded. “Spoken or unspoken.”

“I’m done.”

“Forget the three-month probationary period.”

“I can accept a life sentence with you,” he said softly.

“Stay at the store, please. We need you there.”

“Do I get a reward?” He smiled. “Say, you, for instance.”

She touched his face, his strong jaw, and then traced her thumb over his bottom lip. “I think I’m the one getting the reward. My dreams come true.”

“Ones you didn’t even know you had.”

“You, too.” She knew he’d never dreamed of this before.

“Are you ever going to kiss me?” he growled.

“My McGruff,” she whispered, touching her lips to his, and then pulling back slightly.

“Pixie,” he said softly.

It was music to her ears. Just as good as him telling her he loved her.

A year later

Priscilla sighed, gazing up at her husband. “Griff, I can’t believe we did it,” she said sleepily, with wonder filling her voice at the tiny bundle nearly swallowed up in his big, protective arms.

He eased the newborn baby into her arms, and then kissed Priscilla on the forehead. “You did all the work,” he said in awe.

She cradled the precious baby to her. “Do I get to name her, too?” Priscilla looked down at the little baby girl nestled against her side.

“Lady’s choice,” he offered, touching the red curls. “She’s so tiny. She looks like you.”

“That’s a good thing, since she’s a girl. I don’t think I want my daughter to be big with broad shoulders.”

Griff chuckled. “Good point. So are you going to tell me or keep me guessing?”