That Second Chance Page 26

  “Good, so it makes this that much more special.”

  Griffin sets his napkin on his lap and casually takes a sip of water.

  I’m not as comfortable.

  I fumble with my napkin, drop my silverware to the floor, and almost spill my water as I bring it to my mouth with a shaky hand.

  Once I take a sip, I lean forward and lower my voice. “Don’t you see them all staring?”

  “No, I do. I just choose to focus on you.”

  It’s a Wednesday night, the middle of the week. I thought we would be safe going to a public place for the first time as a couple. Boy, was I wrong.

  I swear half of Port Snow is here, watching our every move.

  When we walked into the restaurant holding hands, the dining room quieted down. All eyes focused on us as hushed whispers started to spread from table to table.

  Griffin didn’t think much of it as we were guided to a table in the far corner overlooking the ocean, the view lit up by the lighthouse attached to the dining room. It’s incredibly beautiful, but I’m so beyond distracted by all the prying eyes.

  “Hey.” Griffin leans forward and presses his finger to my chin, turning my focus onto him. “Ignore them. It was bound to happen at some point. They’ll get back to their meals soon. It’s just me and you here. Now, tell me about your first day of school. Do I need to talk to any parents for you?”

  The tension in my shoulders eases slightly. “No parent-boyfriend conferences needed just yet.”

  His lips curve up, crinkles in the corners of his eyes. “Just let me know. I’ve got your back, babe.”

  The term of endearment lightens up my mood, suddenly helping me forget about all the people around us. Just like he asked, I focus on him and our conversation.

  “Any teacher’s pets?”

  I nod, thinking back to the girl who dropped off a gift at the end of class after everyone had left the classroom. “This sweet girl, Mikaila—”

  “Mikaila Hawkins? Oh yeah, huge butt kisser. She’s known for it.”

  I raise an eyebrow, questioning. “Are you . . . spreading some gossip, Mr. Knightly?”

  “Just informing you. She’ll tell you you’re her favorite and how you’re making such an impact on her life, but it’s a load of crap. The girl kisses ass for good grades. Classic Mikaila. Watch your back with that one—she’s known to steal highlighters from teachers. I heard she has a collection and writes the teacher’s name on each one along with the year she took it.”

  “No she doesn’t,” I chuckle.

  “She does. Ask any one of your teacher friends. She has a reputation, so keep an eye on your highlighters.”

  “Noted.” I scan the dining room quickly before asking in a whisper, “Do you know anything about George Woodside?”

  “Smart-ass little fucker. Incredibly intelligent and uses it against his teachers. His parents could care less about the gossip train, so he’s a tough one to crack. My advice with George: study what he says, pay attention and look for a flaw, point out that flaw, and prove him wrong right there on the spot. It’s the only way to keep him quiet. And if he still gives you trouble, I’ll make sure to scare the living crap out of him somehow.”

  “Scaring middle schoolers, huh? You have no pride.”

  “Not when it comes to you.” He winks and takes another sip of his water.

  “I feel really stupid right now.”

  “Why?” Griffin lowers his spoonful of soup.

  “Because I waited this long to come here and try the famous lobster bisque. What’s wrong with me?”

  “I’m glad you waited, because I got to be the one who introduced you to it.”

  “It’s so cheesy and perfect.” I savor every swallow, occasionally dipping the hearty bread that came with the main dishes.

  “That’s why it’s the best meal in Port Snow, hands down.”

  “I’m seeing the light now.” I wink. “No pun intended.”

  “Cheesy, Ren, cheesy.” He pauses and winks back. “Now that’s no pun intended.”

  I shake my head, giggling. “Is this what happens to people when they start dating in this town? They become hopelessly corny?”

  “The cool factor is dropped a few notches; I’ve heard of this happening before.”

  “Are we not cool?”

  “I’m afraid not,” he answers. “I think we lost the cool factor the minute we started gossiping about preteens.”

  I point my spoon accusingly at him. “Hey, you started that conversation.”

  “True, but it was for the good of the math department. You have to know the lay of the land if you want to teach the best algebra you can.”

  “And teen gossip helps with that?”

  “Easily.”

  “Well, are there any tidbits of gossip I need to know to help me be the best girlfriend to Griffin Knightly?”

  “Hmm.” He leans back in his chair. “I’m sure there are some false stories floating around, so you can’t believe everything you hear, but I think one of the best things you can do for yourself is spread your own stories. That way, you can see who you can’t trust and who you can, which is pretty much no one.”

  “Spread my own rumors?”

  He nods and swallows another spoonful of his soup. “Come up with some stupid story and tell someone; see how far it can go. It’s easier to deal with made-up stories than real things built up into blatant lies.”

  “Like how you turned into Tarzan to save me?”

  “Exactly.” He chuckles to himself. “That’s still my favorite version of our story.”

  Our story.

  My stomach does a few somersaults.

  It might have taken a while to get to this point, but I’m so glad I was patient. I wouldn’t have wanted to miss out on our story.

  “Are you sure you’re not cold?”

  I shake my head, the wind breezing through my hair. “I’m perfect. Just don’t let go of me.”

  We’re standing outside of the restaurant, looking out over the ocean as the lighthouse lamp rotates, highlighting the water with each pass of its beam.

  Dinner was beyond amazing—the crunch of the bread, the smooth texture of the soup. Griffin was right: it was the best meal I’ve had in Port Snow so far, and I’m so glad I got to experience it with him.

  After sharing a whoopie pie for dessert, we find a secluded spot against the railing that overlooks the ocean. Griffin wraps his arms around me, holding me from behind, his chin resting on the top of my head.

  “Thank you for tonight, Griffin. I had a really nice time.”

  “Me too.” He kisses the top of my head, and I can feel him gear up to say something else, but he lets out a long breath instead.

  As we stand there, wrapped up in each other, I wonder what he wanted to say, why he held back.

  Does he feel the same way I feel about him? Because the feelings I have for this man go beyond just like—they flirt with love and grow deeper and deeper with every minute I spend with him.

  Are his feelings as strong as mine, or does he think we’re moving too fast?

  It doesn’t really matter at this point. While my feelings run deep, our relationship is too new to bring up the l word.

  So instead, I say, “What’s your typical good night look like on a date?”

  “Good night? I don’t know what you have planned later, but there won’t be any good nights. More like good morning.”

  I roll my eyes, even though I know he can’t see me. “I don’t mean for tonight, just in general. When you take a girl out on a first date, do you normally go in for a kiss?”

  “Well, given that I’ve only been on four first dates, I’d say sweaty palms is usually my go-to for saying good night.”

  “You’ve only been on four first dates?”

  “Mm-hmm. Claire was my high school sweetheart, and the other two girls ahead of her didn’t really count—our parents chaperoned us, after all. And now there’s you, and with you, I know exactly how our nigh
t is going to end, and it’s not with a goodbye kiss on your doorstep.”

  “Are you going to ravish me, Griffin?”

  “Yup.” His simple confirmation shoots a wave of excitement up my spine. “What about you? What’s your typical first-date good night?”

  “Do you really want to know?”

  “I don’t know.” He leans over my shoulder to look at me. “Do I?”

  I shrug. “I almost always have sex on the first date, kind of like ripping off the Band-Aid, you know? ‘This is what I have to offer; what do you have to offer?’ kind of stuff. Makes it easier to move on to the next date if I have a good time.”

  His mouth parts in shock, his eyes blinking a few times. “Are you serious?”

  “No.” I laugh, maybe a little too hard, as he squeezes me and presses a loud kiss to my cheek.

  “Jesus, Ren. For a second there, I felt myself turn into a jealous asshole.”

  “Do you really think I’m the kind of girl who would have sex with every first date?”

  He shrugs and goes back to pressing his chin against the top of my head. “I don’t know. I mean, you did hump the hell out of me in a pond . . . oomph.”

  I’ve playfully elbowed him in the stomach. The low rumble of his laugh warms me up from the tips of my toes to the top of my head.

  “Will you tell me about her? About Claire?”

  For a moment, I feel him stiffen behind me before he slowly lets out a deep breath, his lips finding the top of my head.

  “What do you want to know?” His voice is slightly strangled but open.

  “You met in high school, right? How did you meet?”

  “I borrowed a pencil from her. It was lame, but it was a way to talk to her. She was the girl every guy wanted to be with. Fun, smart, outgoing, and beautiful. She was the entire package, and when my sophomore year rolled around, I finally got the courage to talk to her.”

  “And you asked her for a pencil?”

  “Yeah, but it worked. After class, in the hallways, I chased her down to give her back her pencil, and we started talking. I asked her out for ice cream after school, and the rest is history.”

  “That’s really sweet.” I squeeze the arms that are wrapped around me. “Did you both go to college?”

  “She did; I didn’t. I stayed back to help my parents and become a volunteer firefighter while she went to the University of Pottsmouth, earned her degree in nursing. She always had a nurturing way about her, so nursing was right up her alley.”

  “When did you get married?”

  “Not until she graduated. We wanted to make sure we were financially ready before we got married. It was smart but torture, because we weren’t allowed to live together. Her parents were pretty strict. So it made things interesting.”

  “Oh wow, I can imagine. When did you buy your house?”

  “I bought it a few years after I graduated. My parents are pretty awesome and helped me sign off on it. Claire didn’t move in until a few years later, but she’d sneak over as much as she could when she was in college.”

  “Bet that was hard with all the peering eyes in this town.”

  He chuckles, his voice growing dreamy. “Tell me about it. But we made it work.”

  “She sounds like a beautiful person.”

  “She was. You two would have been friends, probably would have given me a run for my money.”

  For some reason, that makes me really happy—that in some offbeat way, I’ve earned her blessing.

  “How was she with your family? Did they ever throw you weird ‘you’re together now’ parties?”

  He shakes his head above me, giving me a tight squeeze. “Still want to kill them for that, by the way, and no, they didn’t. I mean, they did stupid shit when we went to prom, like make us take pictures with lobsters—we won’t get into that—but nothing like you experienced. Claire held her own with my brothers, though. She was well versed in the Knightly clan, since she grew up here, too, so she didn’t have a hard time keeping up.”

  “So if she grew up here, how come it took you so long to ask her out?”

  “Honestly? I was scared. It wasn’t until I hit my growth spurt and started working out that I gained confidence.”

  I try to think what a scrawny little Griffin might look like, but I can’t picture it. To me, he will always be the burly firefighter with the handsome smile.

  “That’s kind of sweet. Did she have a crush on you at all?”

  “Nah.” He clears his throat. “She actually really liked Jen’s husband, Zach. I, uh . . . I kind of went out of my way to introduce him to Jen so that he was off the market.”

  I turn to face him, shock mixing with humor. “No you didn’t.”

  He nods slowly. “Sadly, I did. But it worked out in the end.”

  “Oh, you sneaky, sneaky man.”

  He pulls me into a hug and presses a kiss against my forehead. “Hell, I would have done the same thing if you’d shown an ounce of interest in any other guy in town. I would have found an unsuspecting tourist and hooked them up. When I know what I want, I make sure no one else can have it.”

  And that warms me to my very core.

  “Your home is beautiful, Griffin.” I take in the subtle neutral tones throughout the house, the cozy gray-toned wooden furniture. The house is a simple oasis; you step inside and instantly feel comfortable.

  “Thank you.” He comes up behind me and slowly pulls down the zipper of my dress, pressing light kisses across the side of my neck.

  When he asked me if I wanted to go back to his place when we were in his truck, I hesitated at first, nervous that I would be stepping into his wife’s territory, but he told me he renovated a few months ago, needing a change, the reminder of her too consuming. He didn’t get rid of everything, but he did get a new bed, and that made me feel a whole hell of a lot better.

  I don’t want to take his wife’s place. I want to be respectful of what they had, but after an awkward conversation in his truck outside of his house, Griffin let me know I was okay, that I wouldn’t be intruding on her territory.

  And I know I should have felt weird about that, but I didn’t. It actually made me feel better, the idea that maybe with some crazy cosmic force she brought us together. And who knows? Maybe she was the one who poked the moose in the butt to get him out on the road at just the right time.

  My dress fully unzipped, Griffin pushes it down over my shoulders and to the ground, where it pools at my heels, exposing my matching set of red lace lingerie.

  His hum of approval fills me with need as I turn around and find the buttons on his shirt, quickly undoing them and exposing his rock-hard chest. Gripping me by the ass, he hoists me into the air, and I circle my legs around his waist. He walks us up the stairs to his bedroom, his mouth desperate on mine.

  “Your parents’ visit really fucked up the plans I had for us.”

  “We missed three nights together.” I giggle as he tosses me on the bed, my hair fanning out next to me.

  “Still too fucking long.” He strips down to his boxer briefs, his bulge already prominent, and leans down on the bed, raking his eyes over my body. Growing serious, he props himself over me, his elbows resting on the bed, his face inches from mine. “What made you wait?”

  “Wait for you?” I ask, brushing my fingers through his soft hair.

  “Yes. After we almost kissed in the street, what made you give me another chance?”

  “Honestly? Stupid hope that maybe, just maybe, you would open your heart and give me a chance too. That you would give us a chance.”

  “And all those times we were together, were you hoping then?”

  I bite my bottom lip. This is the perfect moment, but I’m scared out of my mind to confess how much I feel for him.

  “Tell me.” He nudges me with a light kiss to my nose. “Were you hoping?”

  I shake my head, and a crease forms in his brow. “No, all the time we spent together, I was falling harder for you every minute.”<
br />
  I hold his gaze, fighting the urge to bury my head in his pillows. He needs to know this is serious for me, that I want nothing more than for our relationship to morph into forever.

  He’s silent for a long moment, my stomach churning with nerves until he smiles. “I think I was doing the same exact thing.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  GRIFFIN

  “Word on the street is you took Ren to the Lighthouse Restaurant the other night. And before you deny it—” Jen sets the local gossip newspaper on the counter in front of me. It showcases a picture of Ren and me having dinner together and holding hands beneath the headline:

  GRIFFIN KNIGHTLY BREAKS HIS CURSE!

  You would think I’d be shocked, that I’d have some choice words about invasion of privacy.

  But it’s Port Snow.

  It’s not the first time I’ve been in the headlines, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.

  Rolling my eyes, I count the change in the cash register, the start of the school year finally giving us a little bit of reprieve from the busy tourist season. Between now and Christmas we’ll just have a steady flow of customers, no rush like in the summer.

  Thank God.

  “Glad to see the tradition of gossip and snooping still holds strong in this town. What else did you hear?”

  “Do you really want to know?”

  “Hit me with the stories.” This should at least be entertaining.

  Jen wraps up the leftover scones—she came in to help with closing—and counts off on her fingers. “Let’s see. The obvious, that you were on a date. That you were whispering about a possible unexpected pregnancy.” I snort. “That you were actually just getting a tutoring session because you’re taking online classes to earn your degree in firefighting.”

  “Okay, whoever came up with that one needs the tutoring.”

  Jen chuckles. “That one was my favorite. Oh, and the one where you two went at it like rabbits on the beach.”

  I try to hide my reaction to the last one as I swallow hard. Holy shit . . . did someone see us?

  Staying calm, I say, “People need to get lives.”

  “That’s what I said. Who in their right mind would have sex on the beach in Port Snow? Anyone could catch them.”