CHAPTER TEN
LONDON

The Cherry Street Grill door slams shut behind me and I don’t even cringe at the loud noise. I’m too angry with myself to focus on anything else besides getting back to my car. The Center of the Universe sign is mocking me from the sidewalk. I used to love to come here as a kid and listen to the echoes. It was enough to help me escape whatever teenage drama I was facing at the time. I don’t think it’ll help me much tonight. I’m such an idiot.

Really, I’m glad that I saw that.

I’m glad I saw him lose his temper.

And I’m glad I saw how he shoved Nigel, who probably deserved it. But into that poor waitress? It’s always the innocent bystanders who pay, just like with Nick. 

“London.” I hate how much I love his deep raspy voice. Ugh.

I’m not going down that road again. I sluff off the thought of yelling into the Center of the Universe and just keep walking. I need to get home, and into my comfortable bed. Tomorrow, I’ll forget all about Griffin Miller.

“London!”

Nope.

Ten minutes ago, I was in serious danger of losing myself in the moment and losing my heart to Griffin Miller. Not anymore. My daddy always says, once someone shows you their true colors, don’t try to repaint them. Well, tonight I saw one side of Mister Miller that was absolutely charming… then I saw his true colors.

I will never try to repaint him.

I learned my lesson the hard way on that one.

His footsteps are getting closer, and he’s definitely running now. “London!” he yells louder.

I keep my head up, eyes trained on the sidewalk, and one foot in front of the other. I’m not going to become one of his flavors of the week. Carter needs me too much for me to get mixed up with someone like…

“London, please.” His hand wraps around my elbow as he spins me around to face him.

This guy has some nerve. “Excuse me.” I jerk my arm out of his grip. “I am about twenty minutes away from being home and in my hot as hell mom top knot and yoga pants. You do not get to screw that up for me.”

His eyes are beet red and he’s sniffing… hard.

“Seriously? Are you high?” I shake my head in disgust. This night just keeps getting better and better.

“What?” He scoffs and shakes his head. “No. I haven’t touched a drug in my life.”

“The tabloids tell a different story.” I remember seeing one headline that caught a known dealer leaving their hotel in Dallas.

“The things you read about me—about us— they’re all a bunch of lies to make us fit the mold.” He scoffs. “Except for Stone. Most of what they write about him is spot on.”

He’s probably telling the truth. His words are crisp and clear. “Fine.” I turn on my heel. “I’m going home. Thank you for the chance to play tonight, Mister Miller.”

He groans and I can hear his feet shuffling against the pavement behind me. “Would you please give me a chance to explain?”

“You don’t have anything to explain to me. Where are my keys? I have everything in the world in this crossbody bag, except the one thing I need…” My fingers brush metal. Finally. My keys jingle in my hand as I pick up the pace. I really need to get as far away from Griffin Miller as possible.

“I want to though.” He sounds like a little boy begging for forgiveness after breaking his mom’s favorite picture frame. Not that that’s happened in my home or anything. “If you’ll let me.”

I suck in a deep breath and stop short in my tracks. “Fine.” I turn to face him. Those eyes are lethal. “What do you need to explain to me? Make it quick. I have a son to get home to.”

“Thank you.” He reaches for my hand, but I stuff them into my back pockets. There is absolutely no need for any further connections with him at this point. I remember quite well the sparks that flew at the theater when his hand brushed mine. I can’t afford to lose focus now. “I should never have allowed myself to lose control like that,” he admits.

“Uh-huh.” I nod. He’s right, but this is not breaking news. I don’t know what I expected from the playboy of Amaryllis, but it was certainly a little more than that.

“You already know that though.” He shifts on his feet and I’ve never seen someone go from complete confidence, like he had when he was on stage, to looking so desperate and vulnerable.

“Yes, I do.” I sigh a little louder than necessary. “So, if you don’t mind, I really need to go.”

“I know I deserve your reaction.” He clenches his jaw like he’s resenting the words coming from his own mouth. “I don’t normally lose my temper like that. I know better.”

I didn’t actually expect him to take responsibility.

“The only reason I did…” He runs his hand through his jet-black hair.

It’s a mess.

A hot mess… a very hot mess.

Focus.

I have to stop thinking about him like that.

He’s a mess.

A mess with a temper.

Why is he hesitating?

What could Nigel have done that was so bad?

He scoffs and rubs the back of his neck. “I’m not sure I should actually tell you this…”

“Listen,” I interrupt, holding up both of my hands. “I’ve really had quite enough for one day. I’m disgusted with the fight you two had, but it doesn’t concern me. You are a grown man and do not have to justify yourself to me. We’re never going to see each other again after about another thirty seconds, so…” I shrug and throw both of my hands in the air.

The hope that had been in his eyes just a few seconds ago completely and utterly fades away. “I guess I had hoped we would.”

“What?” This guy is too much.

He takes a deep breath and one step closer to where I’m standing. “I felt something when I saw you from the stage.” He takes another step. “I felt that same thing when I saw you in line after the show. And I felt it again when I walked in Cherry Street Grill and saw you sitting in the booth waiting… for me.” He finally looks up from the ground and focuses his gaze on me. “I had hoped that maybe you would let me get to know you, even after tonight.”

“Oh…” I throw my hands up and roll my eyes. “Cheese and rice!”

He laughs under his breath, but I heard it.

“Don’t judge me. I’m a mom. I’ve had to come up with very creative ways of saying things after my son decided to tell the cashier at the grocery store ‘these fooking buttons are awesome,’ as he pushed every single one of them on the card machine.”

He laughs louder. “Duly noted.” That sparkle of hope returns to his eyes. “Did he say any others to the cashier?”

“No. Worse. He said them to my dad.”

Wait.

How did he get me off-track again?

“Besides that, even if I had considered it earlier, I am not getting involved with someone who has that…” I narrow my eyes at him. “Who has your kind of temper, Mister Miller.”

Nope.

Not today.

Not ever.

Griffin nods and lets out a low whistle. “I know I really fu—I mean, I know I really messed up, but I would appreciate the chance to show you that’s not who I am.”

“It is very clear that is exactly who you are, or that little episode never would have happened.”

“He had the audacity to suggest you were just a bed warmer and I needed to get it out of my system.” He shakes his head and mumbles something I can’t quite make out. “When he disrespected you like that, I snapped.”

Typical. “Don’t you dare make this my fault, Mister Miller.” I poke my finger in his chest and immediately recognize the hard muscles that rest just beneath the very thin layer of fabric. Never mind. I pull my accusatory finger back and make a note to keep my hands to myself. “I do not need some hot head running around defending my honor.” I make air quotes around the last bit. “I have done just fine on my own and I don’t see any reason that needs to change now.”

“London!” Nigel yells from the entrance of Cherry Street, jogging in his finely tailored suit to catch up to us.Seriously, can this night get any worse?