The aroma of freshly brewed coffee teased her as she tugged on a faded and ripped pair of jeans and a white tank top. Pressing a hand to her belly in a fruitless effort to calm the nerves tumbling there, she exited her room and followed the scent of coffee like a child trailing after the Pied Piper.
Holy Odin, Thor stood in her kitchen.
After kissing and licking that wide expanse of chest and skin for hours, she should be accustomed to the impact of Griffin without a shirt. But damn. Did one actually become inoculated against the astounding beauty and power of say, the Grand Canyon or the pyramids? And shit, Griffin Sutherland half-naked should definitely be nominated as the eighth Wonder of the World.
And all that dark gold hair brushing his shoulders… Just damn. Since she’d first seen him the length of his hair had needled her like a puzzle that needed to be solved. Last night, with her fingers gripping the thick strands, she hadn’t paid attention, but this morning…whoa.
Who was this man? What made him tick? What motivated him? Who did he love? Hate? Suddenly, the need to know everything about him pulsed inside her like a heartbeat. Because she wasn’t familiar with this Griffin. The one she’d grown up with, loved, and grieved had been a brooding, razor sharp, kind and maybe a tad bit spoiled young man. This man though, with his hardened mind and body, older eyes and lumberjack appearance was a stranger. But a stranger she longed to sit with and discover his secrets.
“Hey.” Griffin arched an eyebrow. “You okay?”
Shaking her head, she cursed herself and whatever sexual mojo he emanated. “Fine.” Doing her best to avoid his gaze, she scanned the counter and noted the carton of eggs, bacon and her waffle iron. Incredulity shoved the wariness aside. “You’re cooking?”
He snorted, sliding a cup with steam wafting from the top across the kitchen bar toward her. “Your astonishment wounds me.”
She returned his snort. “If memory serves me, the only thing you could whip up was trouble. So please excuse myWhat the hellmoment.”
He shrugged a burnished shoulder. “It was either that or go hungry. Since I’m partial to eating, I decided on the latter.”
“What else can you cook?” She shifted onto the barstool, truly interested in this side of him.
He tugged off a band from around his wrist and gathering his hair together, restrained it in a bun at the back of his head.
Damn. Man bun porn.
He couldsomake it a thing.
“Breakfast is my best meal,” he said, picking up eggs and cracking them with easy, expert movements. “Omelets, pancakes, homemade waffles, home fries. But I also do lasagna, macaroni ’n cheese, shrimp primavera, and I can fix a banana pudding that would make you cry.”
“I just can’t see it.” She sipped from her coffee, smiling. “Who taught you how?”
“My best friend and foreman’s wife. She took pity on me.” He paused, a small smirk tilting one corner of his mouth. “I think she was also afraid I would poison myself if she didn’t take me under her culinary wing. She probably wasn’t wrong.”
Hayden laughed. “Mama always shakes her head and asks herself where she went wrong with me. A daughter of hers who doesn’t cook. The horror. The shame.”
“I went by the house to see her a couple of days ago.”
Frowning, she lowered the mug to the bar top. “I spoke with her yesterday, and she didn’t mention it.”
He flicked a glance over his shoulder, and after a long pause, murmured, “Were you aware she knew about us?”
Shock ricocheted through her, and she gaped at Griffin. “What?” she rasped. “She…she never said anything…”
“Because you didn’t. She’d suspected, but after I left and you…” He paused, his eyebrows forming a dark vee over his eyes.
“Fell apart,” she supplied, unable to keep the bitterness from filtering through.
He turned, leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. His intense gaze searched her face, each sweep like a tactile touch to her brow, cheekbones, mouth and jaw. “I’m sorry.”
A flippant “Water under the bridge” danced on the end of her tongue, but instead, “For what?” popped out. She briefly closed her eyes, cursing herself. She didn’t want to have this conversation. But she’d not only opened the door, she’d thrown it wide and waved him in.
“For hurting you. Hayden, you were the one person in my life who I would have rather cut off my own hand than harm. You were my safe place, my heart. With you I didn’t have to pretend to be anything other than who I was, flaws and all. And you accepted me anyway.” He glanced away, rubbed a hand over his head and heaved a heavy sigh. When he faced her again, a weariness she’d never seen on him before etched lines on either side of his mouth. “Leaving was…vital for me. At that time it was either go or become someone I detested. I never told you this, but a few months before we became lovers, I walked in on my father having sex with my girlfriend at the time in his office.”
“Lauren?” She gasped, shock warring with anger. How could Joshua do that to his own son? And Lauren? Hell, Hayden had never liked the bitch. If she stood in front of her now, Hayden would probably end up as an episode ofSnapped.
A small, wry smile quirked his lips. “You remember her name. I didn’t. Because it wasn’t her betrayal that hurt me the most, it was my father’s. In that moment, I saw myself becoming him. Selfish, spoiled, self-entitled. And I couldn’t allow that to happen. I had to save myself, become a man I would be proud to look at in the mirror. And I couldn’t do it here, in Joshua’s shadow, under his influence.
“Hayden, you were the one unselfish act in my life. Leaving you was like someone had amputated a limb. It was gone, but I could still feel it; I was incomplete without it. But if I had taken you with me, when I didn’t know what waited for me, didn’t know if I would be living out of my car or even if where I landed would be my home, that would’ve been selfish. I wanted the best for you, and at the time, it wasn’t me. Stealing your future, your choices… That wouldn’t have been love; that would’ve been greed.”
