No Knight Needed Page 4

  “A thousand years, huh? That’s quite a statement.” But Clare did feel a little perkier than usual, she had to admit. She’d been a little bit giddy dreaming of heroic rescuers in muddy boots last night.

  Fanciful moments while sleeping were one thing, but real life was another matter entirely. Clare picked up her fork and took a bite of her eggs, trying not to get caught up in Astrid’s excitement. She had things to do. A daughter to raise. A business to run. Bills to pay. “I don’t have time for dreamy. I have no idea who Griffin is, and I’m sure I’ll never see him again—”

  “Oh, I know who he is.” Eppie Orlowe, the oldest and dearest friend of Clare’s mom, pulled up a chair beside them. Like everyone else in the store, she was wearing jeans and hiking boots, but her head was adorned with a hot pink straw hat with artificial sunflowers and a tiny stuffed turtle. “Griffin Friesé is the Slipper King.”

  Clare flicked one of the sunflowers out of Eppie’s wrinkled face, trying to muster up a smile at Eppie’s intrusion. She loved the interfering old lady, but right now, she wanted to be all giddy about Griffin for a few more minutes before being subjected to another lecture on how she was letting her daughter down by her parenting skills. “What’s a Slipper King?”

  “You haven’t heard?” Clare’s best friend from elementary school, Emma Larson, pulled up a chair and sat down, her blonde hair up in a ponytail and already speckled with enough paint to suggest she’d been in her studio for hours already. Clare was a little worried about how much Emma was painting these days, but she was afraid to bring it up. If painting was all that was keeping Emma from crumbling, maybe it was okay that it was consuming her friend. Or maybe not. She didn’t know.

  “Griffin Friesé is the owner of Free Love Slippers,” Emma said.

  “Free Love?” Clare remembered the rainbow colored slippers that Katie had begged to have for her eleventh birthday. Every girl in Daniel Webster Middle School had owned at least one pair, and the flashing lights on the toes had become a common sight on every street once the company had started putting real outsoles on them. Free Love had gone platinum nearly overnight, and Clare and her friends had often lamented that they hadn’t been the ones to think of the silly things.

  “Griffin was the owner,” Eppie clarified. “Before he went insane.”

  Clare’s attention jerked back to Eppie. “Griffin went insane?” Her Griffin? That made no sense.

  “He doesn’t sound insane,” Astrid said with a smug look at Clare as she leaned back with her latte. “He sounds quite fine indeed.”

  “Really?” A wary look came over Emma’s paint-speckled cheeks. “Is he handsome?”

  “Apparently, quite deliciously so,” Astrid said. “Strong hands.”

  “Strong hands!” Emma smacked Clare’s shoulder with genuine concern. “How do you know how strong his hands are? Seriously, Clare. What were you doing up there on the mountain?”

  Clare picked up her coffee, feeling her cheeks burn. “He helped me over a tree.”

  “Is that the au courant euphemism?” Astrid asked. “Because I could use a man to help me over some trees—”

  “He abandoned his wife and daughter,” interrupted Eppie’s best friend, Judith Bittner, as she dropped another chair beside the table. Unlike Eppie, Judith was wearing her Sunday best, and was no doubt heading to church in her flowered skirt, lavender blouse and silver-tinted hair. Her gold framed eye glasses were perched on the end of her nose, and the sparkly chains hanging from the ear pieces were her only jewelry.

  Clare was startled by Judith’s claim. Griffin had abandoned his family? The man who’d risked death to help a stranger? That didn’t make any sense. “Are you sure about that?”

  “Damn straight I’m sure,” Judith harrumphed as she set her plate of bacon and hash browns on the table. “Walked out on them, just like Ed abandoned you and Katie by dying. Don’t be getting yourself tangled up with another outsider, Clare.”

  Clare held up her hands to try to stave off the lecture. “Calm down, Judith. I’m not getting involved with anyone! He actually helped me over a tree—”

  “You should get involved,” Astrid said, her eyes twinkling over the rim of her coffee cup. “Especially with handsome men who rescue you in the middle of the night.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Emma said. “I need to hear the story first. What’s he like?”

  “I’ll tell you what he’s like. Griffin Friesé is bad news.” Eppie leaned forward, her hat sliding to the side, weighted by the flowers. “He lost his business, abandoned his wife and daughter, and then completely snapped.” She nodded sagely and lowered her voice. “That man is on the fast track toward a complete breakdown, and you would do best not to have anything to do with him, Clare.”

  “Men on the verge of a complete breakdown are sometimes the most interesting,” Astrid said. “Clare, you need some excitement in your life. I vote you go for it.”

  “I’m too busy to go on dates,” Clare protested. But the thought of a date was interesting for the first time since she could remember. Despite Eppie and Judith’s attempts to malign Griffin, Clare didn’t buy it at all. In fact, she was kind of drawn to the idea of getting dressed up and showing Griffin what she looked like when she wasn’t drenched, terrified and muddy. It wasn’t just any man who would suffice. It was Griffin Friesé. His power. His strength. His—

  “He showed up in town last night,” Judith said, peering at Clare through her glasses. “Got a room at the Dark Pines Motel. What kind of millionaire takes a room at that place? He’s already snapped, I’m telling you.”

  Clare stiffened. “He’s in town? Now?” Her entire body leapt into awareness, and she bolted upright, belatedly searching the store for him. What if she saw him again? What if he wasn’t a mere shadow that had flitted through her life for only the briefest moment? Her heart started to pound, followed by swift disappointment when she saw he wasn’t there. Oh, God. What was she doing? She couldn’t obsess about him. She sat back and raised her chin, fighting for composure.

  “Oh...” Astrid said, her eyes gleaming. “I think maybe you should go thank him personally for his help. A one-night stand might be just the thing you need.”

  “I’m not having a one-night stand with him,” Clare said, glaring at Astrid. Hello? Did her friend really have to bring up sex in front of Eppie and Judith? But the thought of Griffin and sex sent a sudden pulse of desire rippling through her, just like last night when she’d been in Griffin’s arms. Twice in twenty-four hours? There was no way for her to stop her small smile. It felt amazing to remember what it felt like to be attracted to a man.

  “His ex-wife and daughter escaped him by moving to River Junction.” Eppie plucked a sunflower off her hat and twirled it oh-so-casually in her fingers. “They live less than twenty miles from here.”

  “The Slipper King has come to stalk his family, kill them and then go back to Boston,” Judith said, folding her arms over her bosomy chest. “It’s a sad state of affairs, it is. From a happy marriage to this. Money ruins everything, I’ll tell you that right now.”

  Emma looked down at her coffee, and Clare put her arm around her friend and hugged her gently, knowing Judith was making Emma think about her own recent escape from a hellish marriage. “Oh for heaven’s sake,” Clare said, interrupting Judith before she could gain momentum. “I’m sure Griffin’s not here to kill anyone. He was a hero last night, for heaven’s sake—”

  “A hero?” Eppie pointed a sunflower right at her. “Listen here, young lady. I swore on your mother’s deathbed that I’d look after you and Katie, and I’ll honor that promise until the day I die. If you so much as utter one complimentary word about that dangerous man, I will lock you down until we run him out of town.”

  “May God rest your mother’s spirit,” Judith added emphatically. “That man’s no good, and if you start dallying with him, it’ll endanger everything you’ve worked so hard to provide for Katie.”

  “Katie and I are doing j
ust fine,” Clare bristled, clenching her fists under the table. “So just stop—” She paused and forced herself to take a breath. These women had been her mother’s dearest friends. She had to honor her mother’s love for them. She managed a smile. “I appreciate your concern very much,” she said evenly. “But you don’t need to worry because I’m not going to date him, talk to him or get involved with him in any way.”

  “Too bad,” Emma said. “I think he sounds just wrong enough to be worth getting involved with.”

  Clare looked at her usually cautious friend, unable to suppress the swirl of nervous anticipation at Emma’s comment. “What? Aren’t you all about staying away from him?” She really didn’t need her friends encouraging her to get all dreamy-eyed about Griffin. She was having enough trouble not remembering how her entire being had trembled when he’d enfolded her in his arms with such strength.

  “He sounds like a good choice for you.” Emma shrugged, stealing a corner of Clare’s muffin and popping it into her mouth. “He apparently has a decent streak to him or he wouldn’t have helped you, but you won’t be fooled into thinking he’s Mr. Right. He’s safe to date because it would get you back into the game, but he’s got so many issues that he wouldn’t tempt you long term. You need to get back out there before you get so desperate that you make a huge mistake like I did.” She smiled thoughtfully. “I think he actually sounds interesting.”

  “Much more interesting than any of the men we get around here,” Astrid agreed. “I’ve never had the opportunity to date a handsome knight who’s on a mission to kill his family. Maybe I’ll date him if you’re not?”

  “What? You? I don’t think he’s your type.” Clare sat up quickly before she saw her friend’s teasing expression.

  “Ah, she does care,” Astrid said quietly. “Methinks he did make an impression.”

  A warm feeling eased through Clare. He had made an impression. A big one. And it felt good. Maybe it felt so good because she knew he didn’t live in town, so she never had to actually consider acting on it. She could fantasize, but she’d never have to risk anything that mattered to her.

  “It’s about time a man made an impression on Clare,” Emma said. “It’s been too long. Dry spells of that length can lead to dangerous decisions.”

  “Fifteen years too long,” Eppie said. “Katie needs a father. A responsible one,” she added. “One that will be there for her. You need a solid, responsible man, Clare, and it’s time you stopped being selfish about your freedom and found one.”

  “Clare needs passion, not a husband,” Astrid announced. “A few orgasms and some nights with the massage oil.”

  Clare’s cheeks heated up, Emma clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle, and Judith looked horrified.

  But not Eppie. Oh, no, of course not Eppie. “Sex?” Eppie said brightly. “You’re talking about sex, aren’t you? Well, you may think that old Eppie doesn’t know about sex, but we all have our need for passion—”

  “Okay.” Clare stood up. Hearing Eppie talk about sex was too much for a Sunday morning, and that would be the fast track toward deflating any residual fantasies about Griffin. “I need to work. I’ll see you all later.”

  “I’m going to work, too.” Astrid leapt up, and grabbed her coffee. “Emma?”

  “Me, too. I need to paint.” Emma hurried to her feet. “Today’s a painting day, for sure.”

  “I’ll see you later, Eppie. Judith.” Clare nodded at the gray-haired duo, but before she could follow Astrid out the door, Eppie took her hand and patted it tenderly.

  “Clare, darling, I know sometimes I drive you mad, but we’re just looking out for you because we love you and Katie,” Eppie said.

  Clare’s irritation with the older women faded, and she smoothed Eppie’s wrinkled collar. “I know, and I appreciate it. It’s reassuring to have someone looking out for me.”

  Judith patted her arm. “We’re always here for you, Clare, and when you’re ready to date, you just let us know, and we’ll find a good one for you.”

  Clare smiled fondly. “Thanks, but I’m all set.” She kissed each one on the forehead. “I have to run and get some work done before Katie gets up. See you later.”

  They waved her on, and they were already spreading more gossip about the Slipper King before Clare made it to the front door. By the time Griffin woke up, he was going to discover he’d already murdered ten people, six dogs and a hamster. He wouldn’t last in this town past noon. Being a hero only went so far if you were an outsider.

  As she stepped outside, the thought of Griffin leaving town cast a pall over Clare. She instinctively glanced in the direction of the Dark Pines Motel, but no big black truck was driving toward them. He was either already on his way out of town, or the roof had collapsed on him and pinned him to his bed.

  As it should be—well not the roof collapsing, but it really was best not to run into him again. She couldn’t afford him. He belonged in her heart and her memories as a romantic amazing moment that would always be perfect because real life could never taint it by turning their brief connection into a real relationship. Griffin was her mythical savoir, and now it was time to get practical.

  Clare lifted her chin resolutely. Emma and Astrid fell in beside her as she headed down the steps of the store toward the street.

  “I’m sure he’s not a killer,” Emma said as the trio crossed Main Street toward Clare’s office, which was just down the block.

  “I agree that he’s probably not here to go on a killing spree.” Clare sighed, feeling oddly deflated. Whether it was the thought of Griffin leaving, or the reminders of her mistake with Ed, she didn’t know. She just felt tired. Not sleepy tired. Soul-tired. “But Eppie’s right. I don’t need another outsider.”

  “Screw Eppie,” Astrid said as they stepped up onto the sidewalk.

  “No!” Clare set her hands on her hips and glared at her friend, knowing she needed to quell any romantic longings before they could take hold and render her incapable of accepting the life she had. “I would never have survived those early days without Eppie taking care of Katie while I went back to school.”

  “But that doesn’t mean she’s right about this guy.” Astrid sighed. “Clare, you’re only thirty-three, and you haven’t dated in fifteen years. Even for a nun, that’s kind of a bit anti-social.”

  “I don’t have time.” Clare pulled open the door to the quaint little building that housed their offices. Clare’s was full of legal documents, and Astrid’s was full of jewels, precious metals and all sorts of design sketches.

  “You don’t make time,” Astrid said. “There’s a difference.”

  Clare gestured at her desk. “I have clients to deal with, a daughter to raise, bills to pay, and my house needs a new roof. When does that leave time for dating? And why would I want to? I have everything I need.”

  “Do you really?” Astrid picked up a double-heart necklace that was her biggest seller, and she dangled it. “Are you so sure about that?”

  “Well, no.” Clare looked at the list of names on her desk. “I need a new roof for free. Other than that, I’m good.”

  “Speaking of good, I really want to hear the whole story about the Slipper King, especially the strong hands part.” Emma leaned against the door frame as Clare crossed the room and sat down at her desk. “All I know is that some guy who drives a big black truck did the hero thing last night, and he might be an insane murderer. Who is he? What happened?” Her dark brown eyes met Clare’s, and they were full of an understanding and empathy that had deepened since Emma had returned to town last fall. “And are you okay, Clare? Really okay?”

  Emma’s gentle inquisition made Clare’s defenses fall, and she sagged down in her chair, unable to stop the aching loneliness from cascading through her. “I’m a wreck.”

  Emma laughed softly. “A wreck because you met an appealing guy? I’d probably be the same way.”

  “Or are you a wreck because you finally want to break out of that sh
ell of yours, and you’re scared?” Astrid asked. “It’s okay to be terrified about men. Why do you think I never get serious with one? It’s all a facade for the fact that being in another serious relationship terrifies me beyond words.”

  Clare smiled at her friend’s confession. “We’ve been telling you that for years, Astrid. You need therapy.”

  “To talk me into a husband? Never. My jewelry is all I need.” Astrid smiled gently. “But you, my dear, don’t even date. That’s not normal. Raw, debilitating terror is not a reason to skip out on a chance to get in touch with your womanly side.”

  “I’m not terrified.” Clare thought back again to last night, but this time, the memory of Griffin’s lean and well-muscled body striding across the sodden earth toward her didn’t flood her with warmth and peace. Instead, tension tweaked her chest, her belly churned and fear rippled through her body. Well, okay, maybe a little terrified. She’d lost so much already, and she couldn’t afford to lose anymore. She knew it would break her beyond what she could take.

  Eppie might be an overly protective gossip, but the older woman was right. Clare had made a grievous mistake fifteen years ago, far more than anyone, even Astrid and Emma, knew. And Griffin was that same kind of mistake.

  She’d come too far, and she was clinging to a thread that was too perilously thin to be able to afford another mistake, or take a risk, any kind of risk. Astrid was right. She was terrified. But for all the right reasons.

  “Clare?” Emma prompted. “I want to hear the details.”

  Clare turned on her computer, the bleak void in her heart so powerful that her chest actually hurt. “It was nothing,” she said quietly. It had to be nothing. She couldn’t handle it being anything more.

  Her friend gave her a skeptical look, and Clare knew she didn’t believe it.

  Unfortunately, Clare didn’t either.

  Chapter Four

  The situation was intolerable.