Unexpectedly Mine (Birch Crossing Book 1) Read online

  "Kill them off?" Griffin was too surprised to come up with a more coherent response. He'd heard a lot of comments in his day, but this was a first for him. "What are you talking about?"

  "The rumors are going, man. The rumors are going." Jackson nodded at the market. "I'd stay and introduce you, but I've got to get to work on the new rec center. Grand opening in a couple days, and it's not ready." He slapped Griffin's back. "But if you need anything, you give me a holler. I know what it's like to be the new kid."

  Griffin raised his brows at the offer, surprised that anyone would think he needed someone to pave his way. "Thanks, but I'm sure I'll be fine."

  Jackson laughed. "Yeah, I'll remind you later that you said that." Still chuckling, Jackson strode past Griffin, his heavy work boots thudding on the sidewalk as he headed toward an ancient red pickup that was loaded with fresh lumber, covered in rust, and armed with enormous, brand new tires.

  Griffin studied the tires, impressed by the size and quality of them, especially in comparison to the old vehicle riding on them. Jackson Reed knew where to put his money at least. A foundation was the core to anything, and the man had four good tires holding up his payload.

  Griffin shook his head in amusement as he turned toward the market. Damn if he didn't like the guy already, just for his tires.

  Still chuckling, Griffin vaulted up the stairs and threw open the door to Wright & Son. He stepped inside and stopped abruptly at the chaos that assaulted him.

  People were everywhere, voices raised, pipe smoke drifting out the door, a damn dog barking by a tank of lobsters, and a well-oiled chain saw sitting on one of the tables, being ardently discussed by a trio of men with more gray hair than Santa Claus.

  And then, like a whisper on the wind, one by one, heads turned toward him, conversations ceased and the world became focused on him. And none of the faces were friendly. He stopped just inside the doorway, adrenaline spiking at the obvious hostility. Exactly who had Jackson said was going to be killing off whom?

  The door suddenly slammed into his back, and the doorknob jammed into his kidney.

  "Norm!" A woman called out from behind him.

  Griffin's whole body tensed, and something sprang to life inside him at the sound of that voice. That lilting sound that struck a chord all the way down in his chest. A melody that made the chaos fall away, replaced by nothing but the sound of her voice.

  He turned slowly as Clare Gray peered past him, looking across the store, and his breath literally stuttered in his chest as he saw the woman who'd invaded his dreams all night.

  Clare was real. He hadn't imagined her. He hadn't exaggerated his response to her. Her energy, her fire, and her allure were every bit as powerful as they had been last night when he'd been unable to walk away from the hero role for the first time in his life.

  "I accidentally left the cupcakes for Emma's niece here." She pushed past him, apparently too preoccupied by the cupcakes to glance his way and realize he was beside her. "You didn't sell them yet, did you?"

  Griffin caught a scent of lilac, fresh soap and subtle natural springtime as she walked by, and every cell in his body ignited. No heavy perfume for Clare, just purity and lightness, and it was perfect.

  She looked so different than she had last night. Her face was vibrant and alive, instead of drawn and terrified. No longer pinned to her head in sodden clumps, her dark hair tumbled down around her shoulders, messy and free, as if she hadn't bothered to tame it this morning. Her jeans curved over her backside in an altogether tempting way, and there was a spring to her step he hadn't seen last night. She'd been compelling then, but now, she was vibrating with life, and she was utterly riveting, awakening in him a raw desire that had been dormant for so long.

  She strode past him, her steps confident and sure. Her shoulders were pulled back, and it dawned on him that Clare looked like a woman to be reckoned with, not a woman to be rescued.

  His adrenaline faded as he suddenly realized the truth. Despite last night, Clare was a strong, independent woman who didn't need help or support. Not from any man. Not from him. Ever.

  Just like his ex-wife.

  Well, hell. Griffin shoved his hands in his pockets and narrowed his eyes, his good mood gone. Not that it mattered. He was there to get his daughter back, not to get caught up in a woman like Clare.

  But as he watched her hips sway as she walked across the store, he couldn't stop the rise of anticipation at the thought of her finally turning those decadent blue eyes his way and realizing he was standing behind her.

  Clare was just lifting the box of cupcakes off the front counter when she became aware of the utter silence of the store. Even at the funerals of her parents, she hadn't heard this kind of silence in Birch Crossing.

  Awareness prickled down her arms, and she looked at Norm. She could have sworn that there was amusement crinkling his gray eyes when he nodded toward something behind her.

  "Oh..." Astrid's squeak of surprise told her that her friends had followed her into the store.

  Clare spun around, and there he was.

  Griffin Friesé.

  Her mystical knight in shining armor.

  Her heart began to race as she met his gaze. His stare was intense, penetrating all the way to her core. She was yanked back to that moment of his hands on her hips, his strength as he'd lifted her. The power in his body as he'd emerged from his truck during the thundering rain and raging wind. Her body began to thrum, and his expression grew hooded, his eyes never leaving hers, as if he were trying to memorize every feature on her face.

  He was wearing a heavy leather jacket that flanked strong thighs and broad shoulders. His eyes were dark, as dark as they'd been last night in the storm. Whiskers shadowed his jaw, giving him a hard look. His boots were still caked with mud, but his jeans were pressed and clean. His light blue dress shirt was open at the collar, revealing a hint of skin and the flash of a thin gold chain at his throat. His hair was short and perfectly gelled, not messy and untamed like it had been last night. A heavy gold watch sat captive on the strong wrist that had supported her so easily.

  Today, he wasn't the dark and rugged hero of the night.

  Well, okay, he was. His power transcended mud, storms, nice watches and dress shirts.

  But he was also, quite clearly and quite ominously, an outsider, a man who did not fit into the town of Birch Crossing.

  Then he smiled, a beautiful, tremendous smile with a dimple in his right cheek. "How's Katie?"

  A dimple? He had a dimple? Clare hadn't noticed the dimple last night. He looked so human, and so endearing with a dimple. Suddenly all her trepidation vanished, replaced by a feeling of giddiness and delight to see him. She smiled back, unable to keep herself from responding in kind. "She's still asleep, but she's okay. Thanks for your help last night rescuing her."

  “My pleasure.” His smile faded, and a speculative gleam came into his dark eyes. "And how are you?"

  No longer feeling like a total wreck, that was for sure. Not with Griffin Friesé studying her as if she were the only thing he ever wanted to look at again. Dear God, the way he was looking at her made her want to drop the cupcakes and her clothes, and saunter with decadent sensuality across the floor toward him, his stare igniting every cell in her body. "I'm fine." She swallowed, horrified by how throaty her voice sounded. "Thank you," she said. "I owe you."

  "No, you owe me nothing." He shook his head, and an odd expression came over his face, as if the words he was thinking didn't quite make sense to him even as he said it. "Seeing you hug Katie was plenty."

  "Oh, dear Lord," Eppie muttered behind her. "Now he's going to kill Katie, too."

  Clare stiffened and jerked her gaze from Griffin. The entire store was watching them in rapt silence, listening to every word. Oh, God. How had she forgotten where they were? Wrights General Store was the epicenter of gossip in Birch Crossing, and everyone had just witnessed her gaping at this handsome stranger.

  Assuming her decades-old role
as Clare's self-appointed protector, Eppie had folded her arms and was trying to crush Griffin with her glare, for daring to tempt Clare.

  Astrid and Emma were leaning against the doorjamb, huge grins on their faces, clearly supportive of any opportunity to pry Clare out of her dateless life of isolation. But Norm's eyes were narrowed, and Ophelia was letting some scrambled eggs burn while she gawked at them. Everyone was waiting to see how Clare was going to respond to him.

  Oh, man. What was she doing nearly throwing herself at him? She quickly took a step back and cleared her throat.

  Griffin's eyebrows shot up at her retreat, then his eyes narrowed. "Kill off Katie, too? " He looked right at Eppie. "Who else am I going to kill?""

  Eppie lifted her chin and turned her head, giving him a view of the back of her hot pink hat.

  "The rumors claim that you're in town to murder your ex-wife and daughter," Astrid volunteered cheerfully. "But don't worry. Not all of us believe them."

  "My daughter?" Pain flashed across Griffin's face, a stark anguish so real that Clare felt her out heart tighten. Just as quickly, the vulnerability disappeared from his face, replaced by a hard, cool expression.

  But she'd seen it. She'd seen his pain, pain he clearly kept hidden, just as she suppressed her own. Suddenly, she felt terrible about the rumors. How could she have listened to rumors about him when he was clearly struggling with pain, some kind of trauma with regard to his daughter?

  She realized he was watching her, as if he were waiting for something. For what? To see if she believed the rumors?

  She glanced around and saw the entire store was waiting for her response. Eppie gave her a solemn nod, and Judith did the same, encouraging her to stand up and condemn this handsome stranger. Sudden anger surged inside her. "Oh, come on," she snapped. "You can't think he's really here to kill his family?"

  Astrid grinned, Eppie shook her head in dismay, and the rest of the room was silent.

  No one else jumped in to help her defend Griffin, and suddenly Clare felt very exposed, as if everyone in the room could see exactly how deeply she'd been affected by him last night. How she'd lain awake all night, thinking of his hands on her hips, of the way his deep voice had wrapped around her, of how he'd made her yearn for the touch of a man for the first time in a very long time.

  Heat burned her cheeks, and she glanced uncomfortably at Griffin, wondering if he was aware of her reaction to him. To her surprise, his face had cooled, devoid of that warmth that they'd initially shared, clearly interpreting her silence as a capitulation to the rumors.

  He narrowed his eyes, then turned away, ending their conversation.

  Regret rushed through Clare as she glanced at Astrid, torn between wanting to call him back, and gratefully grasping the freedom his rejection had given her, freedom from feelings and desires that she didn't have time to deal with.

  She felt so frazzled right now. "I'm going to work." She grabbed the cupcakes and headed for the door. "Emma, here you go—"

  "I need a place to stay," Griffin said. "A place without rats, preferably."

  Griffin's low request echoed through the room, and Clare spun around in shock. Then she saw he was directing his question to Norm, not to her. Relief rushed through her, along with a stab of disappointment.

  No, it was good he wasn't asking to stay at her place. Yes, she owed him, on a level beyond words, but she couldn't afford to get involved with him, for too many reasons. Staying at her house would be putting temptation where she couldn't afford it. There was no way she was going to offer up her place, even though her renter had just vacated, leaving her with an unpleasant gap in her income stream.

  "He stayed at the Dark Pines Motel last night," Judith whispered, just loudly enough for the whole store to hear.

  "Really?" Guilt washed through Clare. The Dark Pines Motel was quite possibly the most unkempt and disgusting motel in the entire state of Maine. How had he ended up there?

  "Fitting, I should think," Eppie said, "for a man like that."

  A man like what? A man who would risk flipping his truck so he could help a woman he didn't even know? Anger began to simmer inside Clare at the way Griffin was being maligned. Didn't anyone care that he'd come to the rescue of four teenagers?

  Clare paused, warring with the urge to go back and defend him. It was one thing for Eppie and Judith to orchestrate her well-being, but doing it at Griffin's expense was wrong.

  But as he leaned his hands on the counter, his broad shoulders flexed, Griffin didn't look like a man who needed defending. He looked strong, powerful and utterly unconcerned about what anyone thought about him. Clare's heart sank a little bit. There was nothing she could do for him. He didn't need her, and he never would. He wasn't the kind of man who needed anything. What could she possibly offer a man who had everything he needed?

  "Well, now, Griffin," Norm said, as he tipped his chair back and let it tap against the unfinished wall. "Most places won't open for another month when the summer folk start to arrive. And the Black Loon Inn is booked for the Smith-Pineal wedding for the next week. It's Dark Pines or nothing."

  Clare turned toward her friends. "Let's go."

  Astrid raised her brows. "Strong hands, indeed."

  Emma lowered her voice. "He might be a killer, but if I could have a man look at me that way for one minute of my life, it might almost be worth it."

  Clare felt her cheeks heat up, and she glanced back at Griffin. He wasn't even looking her way. So, yeah, that heated look between them had meant nothing. Resolutely, Clare pulled open the door. "Just stop already."

  "Looks like you'll have to pick another town, Mr. Friesé," Eppie said cheerfully. "There's no place for you to stay here."

  "Yes, perhaps you should go back to Boston," Judith added, peering at him through her glasses. "Maine isn't the right place for a man like you."

  Clare bit her lip against the urge to jump in. What purpose would it serve? Griffin could defend himself just fine, and she didn't need the grief she would get if she interfered. She had to live in this town, and she already had enough people chastising her for how she wasn't doing enough for her daughter or herself. She knew Eppie and Judith's hostility came from their need to protect her, and she would stir it up even further if she started defending him.

  Both she and Griffin would be better off if she didn't defend him, and it was pretty clear from his body language that he didn't want her interfering anyway. The magical moment in the storm had not translated to real life, even though for a split second, when he'd looked at her so intensely, she'd thought maybe it had.

  It hadn't, and she had to move on. Life was not a fairy tale.

  Clare wished she hadn't let her mouth drop open in an awed gape when she'd seen him. The only reason the town was giving him such a hard time was because they thought there was a personal relationship between her and Griffin, thanks to her dramatic reaction to seeing him. Yes, if he was a total stranger, they'd still think (or hope) he was a soon-to-be murderer, but they'd be more curious than hostile. The hostility was her fault, and she regretted that. She glanced at him, wishing there was a way she could make things right with the man she owed such a debt to.

  Griffin was frowning as he spoke to Norm. "There has to be something. A bed and breakfast?"

  Norm shook his head. "Not this time of year, but I probably have some rat traps in the back I could loan you for your stay.'

  "Rat traps?" Griffin echoed. "That's my best option?"

  Astrid grinned at Clare, a sparkle in her eyes that made Clare's stomach leap with alarm. She grabbed Astrid’s arm. ”Don't you dare—"

  "Clare's renter just moved out," Astrid said, her voice ringing out in the store. "Griffin can stay in her spare room. No rats, and it comes with free Wi-Fi. Best deal in town."

  Oh, dear God. Clare's whole body flamed hot, and she whipped around. Please tell me he didn't hear that.

  But Griffin was staring right at her.

  Of course he'd heard. And so had eve
ryone else.

  Chapter 5

  Griffin's instinct had been to turn down the suggestion of staying at Clare's house, but his refusal died in his throat the moment he saw her stricken face.

  Her eyes were wide with horror, and she was clutching her precious cupcakes so tightly he was certain she'd crushed them. In that moment, he saw the woman he'd met last night. The one whose passion, courage and vulnerability had made him want to whip out a sword and slay all her dragons.

  Yes, there was still confidence and strength emanating from her, but there was also a frailty that touched something inside him. Clare might put on the persona of being tough and independent, and she might even live that life, but inside that courageous exterior was a softness that touched the very depths of his being.

  When Clare had strode in there to retrieve her cupcakes, Griffin had been compelled by her energy and dynamism. But when she'd looked around and realized that people were watching, she'd shut him out faster than his ex used to do on a regular basis.

  He knew what it was like to have a woman retreat on him, and he'd known instantly when Clare had shut him down. He didn't waste time with that crap anymore, and as soon as she'd done it, he'd checked out. Done.

  But as he saw her gaze flicking nervously around the room, he saw fear in her expression that belied the apparent aloofness and independence. Clare was vibrantly alive, unabashedly emotional. She was thrumming with fire and passion, and something inside him flared back to life at the realization.

  Her gaze snapped back to him. "I don't think you'd like my place," she said, her voice strident across the store, but now that he was listening for it, he could hear a tremulous waver in her voice. "There's no privacy. Shared bathroom and kitchen. It's just a room. I'm sure you're used to your own space."

  "I am." And he damn well liked his space, too. He basked in his gleaming penthouse condo, he appreciated his massive office with floor to ceiling windows, and he liked to order in whatever he wanted for dinner.

  Relief flickered across her face, her emotions on such display that his heart softened even more. "Well, so, then great. I mean, yes, I'm sure you'll find something else—"