“Mostly. Some are shrapnel scars from the war. I did two tours in Iraq, but was medically discharged before I could enlist for a third.”
She stood up and walked over to me, winding her arms around my waist as she hugged me. She rested her head on my chest and said, “I hate him. I don’t even know him, and I hate him for doing that to you.”
Chapter 15
Wren
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“What about your sister? Did he hurt her too?” I asked. His muscles became tense, making me instantly regret asking the question.
“No, darlin’. I would’ve killed him if he ever laid a hand on her,” he answered. He kissed me softly on the cheek, then pulled back from our embrace as he took his plate off the counter and placed it in the sink. With his back to me, he asked, “How long are your parents planning to keep Wyatt?”
The way he’d just shut down reminded me of Wyatt, pulling back into his turtle shell. It was clear that he wanted to change the subject, and even though I had a thousand questions I wanted to ask, I let him. “I have to finish up a paper for one of my classes, so they are keeping him until tomorrow.”
I started putting the rest of the dishes in the sink, making myself busy cleaning up the mess I’d made while cooking breakfast. Griffin followed suit, and in no time, we had almost everything cleaned and put back where it belonged.
I was putting the last few dishes in the sink when he asked, “Can you do it here?”
“What?”
“Your paper? Can you do it here?”
“I guess so. My laptop is in the car, but…” I started.
“Then, do it here,” he said, giving me a sexy wink. “I’ll grab your stuff out of your car.” And just like that, he was out the door. Seconds later, he returned carrying my laptop bag and all of my books.
“Okay, I guess I’ll get to work then,” I told him.
“Where do you want all this?”
“Mind if I do it in the living room? I like to watch TV while I work.”
He laughed as he said, “Didn’t your mother teach you not to do your homework in front of the TV.”
“She tried, but it never really stuck,” I admitted with a smile.
“Imagine that,” he laughed. “Make yourself at home. I’ve got a few things to tend to, but I’ll be around if you need me,” he explained.
“Are you sure you want me to stay?” I asked, giving him one last opportunity to get me out of his hair.
He stepped over to me, placing his hands on my jaw, and said, “I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t.” Then he leaned in and kissed me. It was short, but effective.
With a satisfied smile on my face, I curled up on the sofa with my laptop in my lap and got busy. I already had most of the research done, so it was just a matter of actually writing the five-page paper. It didn’t take me long to get most of it written, even with one of my favorite movies playing on the TV. I’d almost forgotten that I wasn’t alone, when Griffin walked in the living room and sat down in the recliner next to me. When I glanced over to him, I couldn’t stop myself from laughing out.
I was barely able to form the words when I asked, “What are you wearing?” I couldn’t believe what he’d done. It was the funniest, crazy thing I’d ever seen.
“What?” he asked innocently. “You don’t like my old man pants?”
“Griffin! Where on earth did you find those?” He was wearing a pair of ratty jeans that were at least three sizes too big, and an old Notre Dame sweatshirt with a matching Divecap.
“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” he said, looking down out his outfit.
“Seriously? Griffin, this is not the sort of thing I’d ever expect you to do,” I said, trying to reign in my hysterical laughter.
“So you’re saying you don’t like my big ole’ sweatshirt?” he asked.
“You got me… it was a bad idea, a very bad idea,” I admitted as I placed my laptop on the coffee table and walked over to him, quickly pulling the hat off his head. I tossed it to the floor, and said, “Take it off.”
“Not happening. Now go sit your pretty, little ass back down on that sofa and finish your paper. When you’re done, I’ll lose the sweatshirt.”
“So you are blackmailing me now?”
“If that’s what you wanna call it,” he said with a sexy smirk.
Shrugging my shoulders, I headed back to my spot on the sofa and said, “What goes around comes around.”
“I don’t respond well to threats, Wren,” he teased.