Unexpectedly Mine (Birch Crossing Book 1) Read online

  "No." Griffin pressed his finger to her lips. "I told you. No thinking. Just feeling. Agreed?"

  She sighed but nodded. Anything to get this over with and get home.

  "Okay." Griffin freed her lips and then put his arm around her shoulders and turned her toward the seating area. "I want you, just for a minute, to envision it in a different way." He gestured to the dark wood tables and plain chairs. "Those are pale pink with white legs. The chairs match." He turned her toward the counter. "The chalk board is covered with beautiful writing in blue and pink and yellow and white. Names like Brooke's Sweetie. And Honeymoon Surprise. And Fairy Wings."

  She started to smile. "Fairy Wings?"

  "And here—" He jogged over to the display case. "This is covered with bright, clear glass, and the shelves are brass so shiny it sparkles like gold." He spread his hands over the area, as if he were casting a magic spell across it. "Inside are dozens of cupcakes. Pink ones. Chocolate decadence. Mint delicacies. Even some made with Birch's Beer. Those are called Man Cakes."

  She broke out in a laugh. "Man Cakes? Really?"

  "Of course, really. The construction guys love 'em. They're loaded with beer, extra sugar and fat, and they're made from chips and pizza dough."

  She set her hands on her hips, grinning at Griffin's silliness. "Griffin—"

  "And look up! Do you see it?"

  Cobwebs, old wood beams and a few fluorescent lights. "The spiders?"

  "No, no, no." He came up behind her and set his hands on her shoulders, rubbing gently. "That pink and white ceiling fan, shaped like a cupcake. And the paintings on the ceiling. Have you ever seen such bright colors or so many different cupcakes? Emma did a great job on the mural, didn't she? Who knew she could paint with such whimsy?"

  And suddenly, Clare could see it. The place came to life with Griffin's vision, and excitement rushed through her. She could see the sparkly gold paint decorating the lemon cupcake with sprinkles. Little children's faces delighting in their desserts. The pink and white striped panels of the ceiling fan. "It's so alive," she whispered.

  "And here? Do you see them?" He was standing behind one of the chairs, his hands resting on the back. "This family from Virginia? The mom and dad and three kids? See how happy they are?" He did a sweeping gesture of the table. "They're staying in Portland for a week, but they heard about Clare's Cupcakes, and they had to come see. They drove for almost two hours, and look how happy they are. They bought an extra box to take home and even ordered some to be mailed to the mom's sister in Idaho as a surprise."

  Clare set her hands on her hips, laughing with delight as Griffin stopped at each table, regaling her with his stories about the imaginary patrons dining there. His magic was infectious and she could hear the music coming from the jukebox in the corner, she could smell her own creations baking, and the happy energy of the place swirled around them.

  Griffin came back and caught her upper arms, his expression intense. "Can you see it, Clare? Can you feel the magic?"

  "I can." She really could. "All this from cupcakes?"

  "All this from your cupcakes." He put his arm around her shoulder and turned her to face the room. "This is your dream, Clare, and you can make it come true. Right here. Right now. It's time."

  At his words, her excitement faded, replaced by a sensation of emptiness. She ducked out from his arm and walked toward the door. "It's not time."

  "How can you say that?" He blocked her path to the door. "I saw your face when you were picturing it. I know you saw the magic. I know you felt it." He tapped his fingers on the left side of her chest. "Your heart beats for it. I know it does. Can you really deny it?"

  "I don't—" Her denial died under the urgency of Griffin's expression. His dark eyes were full of fire and passion, and she knew she couldn't lie anymore. Not to him. Not to herself. "It is my dream," she finally said quietly. "I would love to do this."

  He smiled, a gentle, supportive smile. "Then do it."

  "I can't."

  "Why not?"

  "I have a daughter to support. I have to provide a home for her and pay for her college and whatever else she needs." When Griffin started to shake his head, she grabbed his arms. "It's my job as her mother! I have to provide a safe world for her. I can't give her a family or a father or siblings or grandparents, so I have to do what I can."

  "You've given her a family. You're all she needs."

  "But if I take out a loan to buy this place, and it fails, I have nothing. Her college funds will be gone, and—"

  "She'll get scholarships."

  "No!" She pulled away, her eyes burning. "I'm still paying off my student loans. It's a burden I don't want her to deal with. I want her to graduate from college free and clear, ready to follow her dreams."

  "Really?" He folded his arms over his chest, looking smug. "That's what you want? For her to follow her dreams?"

  "Yes, of course—"

  "How is she supposed to learn how to follow her own dreams if her only role model is a mother who won't follow hers?"

  "That's not fair! I don't have the choice—"

  "Of course you have a choice," he said. "Do you really think you're doing Katie favors by slaving away at a job you hate? Don't you think the better message is to teach her to follow her dreams? She idolizes her father for following his, doesn't she? Don't you think she'd rather see you happy and fulfilled, than unhappy and financially solvent?"

  Clare thought of Katie's desire to be in the festival, and she folded her arms. "There are limits to dreams. She might want to be an actress, but now is not the time to find out. She needs to be responsible and diligent and get her education right now."

  "You don't want her to follow her dreams?" Griffin challenged. "You just said you did."

  "When she's older! She's too young to know what her dreams are right now." Clare glanced over at the counter again, and could almost see her cupcakes arranged on the display. "Dreams should be planned carefully and embarked upon at the right time."

  "What if you wait too long?" He challenged. "What if you let this go, and you spend the next thirty years going to that office every day to draft another will for a client? Sitting there at night, unable to make time to bake because you're manipulating legalese to make sure that the favorite son will get the farm and the unloved daughter will wind up with the skunk cabbage? You want that?"

  Clare ground her jaw. "It's not that bad—"

  "Of course it is! You hate it, Clare."

  "I don't hate it! I'm proud of what I've accomplished! I've worked hard to get where I am." Anger rushed through her. "I created a stable home for my daughter, and I'm not going to risk it for a stupid dream about cupcakes!"

  Griffin said nothing. He just looked at her.

  Clare's fury faded into silence, and she sank down into one of the chairs.

  Griffin sat next to her and took her hand. "You can always go back to being an attorney. But you'll never know if you don't try."

  Clare felt so defeated. Her heart ached for the dream she was facing. "I can't do it right now."

  "Why?"

  "Because I'm getting sued."

  Griffin laughed softly. "Seems to be even more of a reason to get out."

  "I can't afford to." She finally looked at him and confessed the weight that she'd been too embarrassed to share with anyone. "A will I wrote was successfully contested in court, and the heirs who lost out are suing me for malpractice. They want me to compensate them for the value of what they lost."

  Griffin frowned. "They'll never win—"

  "It doesn't matter. I have to pay an attorney and go to court, or I have to settle." She looked at him. "It's already depleting my savings. I can't afford to sink a down payment into a new building and then invest everything I have in startup costs. I need to bear down and re-stabilize and then maybe try again in ten years or so."

  "Ten years." Griffin leaned back in his seat. "That's a long time."

  "I know."

  He rubbed his jaw. "
I could lend you the money."

  Clare smiled at his offer. "No, but thank you."

  "Why not?" He sat up. "I'll be part owner. It won't be a favor. It'll be a business investment. I'll just be the silent investor. You can send me repayment and profit sharing once a month."

  She looked at him. "How in God's name could I possibly write your name on checks once a month and ever be able to recover from losing you from my life?"

  He looked startled. "Clare—"

  "No." She slid her hand beneath his. "This time with you is a treasure, and it will break my heart when you leave. There's no way on earth I will ever be able to move on if we own a business together." She paused, and hope flared in her eyes. "Unless you would move here to run it? Is that what you meant?"

  For a moment, Griffin wanted to say yes. He really did. But like Clare's dream, it wasn't reality. It wasn't who he was. Owning a cupcake store wasn't how he was going to win his daughter back. He wasn't the man Clare wanted and needed in her life. "No," he said quietly. "I can't do that. I belong in Boston."

  "Do you? Are you so sure?"

  "Clare." He took her hand. "If I tried to stay here, I would be like Ed. My focus would be in Boston, and eventually I would leave. I won't do that to you. You deserve more."

  She pressed her lips together and nodded. "I know. I know all that." She smiled. "But a girl can have dreams."

  "Yes, she can." He took her hand and kissed it. "Let's go home, Clare. I want to be with you tonight."

  She squeezed his hand. "Yes, I need that."

  "Me, too."

  Chapter 22

  Griffin carried Clare across the threshold of her bedroom.

  It wasn't much. She deserved so much more, but it was all he had to give.

  When he set her down on the bed, and he saw those pools of blue staring up at him, he knew that he had to make this moment last forever. He had to sink into her and imprint the moment in his mind so it would always be with him. It was almost desperation, the need to memorize her. To record every curve of her body. Every lilt of her words. To wrap her memory up so securely that he could feel like he was with her every minute of every day.

  Because he knew what tomorrow was bringing, even if he hadn't shared it with her yet.

  Griffin?" She touched his face. "What's wrong?"

  He held her hand to his cheek. "I wish I was a different man."

  She shook her head. "No, no. If you were, I wouldn't love you."

  His chest constricted. "You love me?"

  She nodded. "I didn't realize it until I blurted it out at the restaurant."

  She loved him. For a moment, Griffin was too overwhelmed to respond, just consumed by a wash of emotions so intense, so powerful, so deep he felt like his chest was going to explode. She loved him.

  His body trembling, Griffin eased down beside her, needing the comfort of her body against his. Her words had shaken him, rattled him deeply, and he needed her touch to ground him. "Yeah, I noticed that, but I figured it was just because you were mad." Oh, he'd heard those words. And he'd wished, so deeply, so intensely, that they were true. Because if a woman like Clare loved him, then that had to mean there was something redeemable in him.

  "That's what I thought." She raised her arms and let him tug her shirt over her head. "That's what I hoped, at least."

  He began to kiss her bare shoulder. "You hoped you didn't love me?" Of course she would hope that. Clare was a smart woman.

  "Yes." She wrapped her arm around him, holding him close while he kissed his way up her neck.

  "Because?" He eased her down, and stretched on top of her, relishing the feel of her body beneath his.

  "Because I do have some sense of self-preservation." She hooked her arms around his neck. "But the truth is, that I think I fell in love with you the minute I saw you drive your ridiculously big and shiny truck up the side of the cliff for me."

  He grinned, and he sorta felt like jumping off the bed and doing push-ups, he was so fired up by her confession. "My truck is not ridiculous."

  "It is." She raised her brows. "But that's not the point."

  "I know, I'm teasing." He grinned. "I'm a man. It makes me uncomfortable to talk about emotions and doing so renders me incapable of coherent speech. So, I make jokes."

  "You're such a liar." She punched his shoulder lightly. "You talk about deep things all the time."

  He paused to consider her comment while he nibbled on her collar bone, and after a moment, he realized that she was right...when it came to her, that was. "Damn, woman. You've turned me into a softie."

  She smiled. "You're welcome."

  He cupped her face, needing to get serious. "Clare Gray, you're an amazing woman, and I'm the luckiest guy in the whole damn world to have your love." He kissed her mouth, once, then again. "You honor me," he whispered between kisses. "You amaze me." He kissed her again. "And you make me so happy to be in this place, right now, with you."

  He was too overwhelmed with words he didn't know how to articulate. So, he told her in the only way he could. Through his kisses. Through his touch. Through his tenderness.

  Griffin's kisses were different tonight. They were deeper, more passionate, more intentional.

  Last time had been a seduction, an introduction to passion, an ascension to the heavens and back.

  Tonight, his touch was more tender. The way his hand caressed her shoulder. His light grip on her elbow as he kissed his way down her belly. The sensual slide of his hand across her hip. There was an ownership in his touch. A possession.

  Clare closed her eyes and rested her hand on his head as he lightly bit her belly, and then her hip. "You're mine," he said as he nipped her again.

  Excitement rippled through her at his deep growl, and she realized she wanted Griffin to stand up and claim her. She wanted to be his, at least for tonight.

  He crawled back up her body and kissed her again. Hard. Deep. Relentless.

  Her body pulsed in response, and she kissed him back. She needed to taste him. She needed to feel him. She needed all of him. Restlessly, she tugged at his jeans. He caught her hand and pinned her to the bed. "I'm in control tonight," he said.

  She smiled in anticipation at the idea of him taking over. "Okay."

  He nodded, then kissed her again. He nibbled and kissed his way back down her body and then he was sliding her jeans over her hips. So slowly and deliberately that chills raced down her spine. His palms were warm and seductive as they eased her pants over her legs, and he palmed the back of her calf as he slipped them off.

  His dark eyes focused on hers, he kissed her toes, one at a time, as if each one was a present from the angels. His lips drifted to the arch of her foot. A kiss on each side of her ankle. The back of her knee. It was as if he were staking his claim on every inch of her body, memorizing every curve as his hands slid over her thigh and he set her foot on his shoulder.

  The other foot now. Toes. Arch. Ankle.

  She began to tremble, her nerves singing in anticipation as he kissed the inside of her knee. And then her inner thigh. And then—

  "Oh, God." She came off the bed as his mouth closed down on her. He flanked her with his palms, holding her still as he continued to kiss her. Not giving her a moment to breathe or to recover or to—

  The orgasm exploded through her and she shouted his name, clutching his shoulders. It hadn't even finished rolling through her when Griffin had ditched his jeans, grabbed a condom and sank himself inside her.

  She gasped as he took her again to that peak, moving inside her as he kissed her, awakening in her a restless, insatiable need for him. White hot desire cascaded through her, and this time, she didn't feel nervous. It felt amazing and beautiful, a passionate and natural extension of the beautiful connection between them. She let him stoke the fires, losing herself in the feel of his body moving inside her, claiming her, making her his forever and ever. She knew he was leaving his mark on her, not just her body but her soul as well, but it didn't scare her. It was si
mply too poignant to fear. Tonight, this night, was their magic, and she breathed his very essence into her heart and let him fill her with his kisses and his lovemaking.

  "Clare," he whispered her name, his voice so full of emotions that tears filled her eyes. "I will never forget this moment."

  Then he kissed her again, and the intensity of his kiss shattered her. The orgasm crashed over her. He kissed her screams away as he continued to move in a most delicious motion, driving her to that edge relentlessly, with a ruthless desperation, almost as if he was afraid that he would lose her if he stopped, if he let them take a breath.

  "Yes, Clare," he whispered. "Let me take you. Let me make you mine."

  And then he kissed her so deeply, she knew she was lost to him.

  Forever.

  And the night had only just begun.

  At eight o'clock the next morning, the last thing Clare wanted to do was leave Griffin behind and go to Portland for one last attempt at settling the lawsuit before going to trial, and Griffin really wasn't making it any easier for her.

  "You're sure you have to go?" Completely ignoring the fact he was wrinkling her suit, Griffin locked Clare in his arms, trying to stop her from walking out the door. "Take the morning off. Stay with me."

  "I wish I could." She leaned into the strength of his body, yearning to be back in that bed with him. They hadn't slept until dawn, filling the night with lovemaking, stories of their childhood, and whispered secrets. Neither one of them had wanted to waste a moment on sleep, and she couldn't stop the terrifying feeling of time passing too quickly.

  Her alarm had gone off less than an hour after they'd fallen asleep, and Griffin had kept her in bed for another half hour before finally capitulating to her laughing demands for him to release her. Their joint shower had been quick and non-sexual, but it had the intimacy of a daily ritual, of learning how to share the same space. The way he'd washed her back and combed the conditioner through her hair. The bumping of elbows and knees in a tiny area barely big enough for one. The laughter around a dropped bar of soap, and even a clump of her hair in the drain.