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I’ve already crossed paths with the best-looking man I’ve ever seen. I turned Griffin down again tonight. As I watched him stalk out of the studio, I had an unexpected burst of regret. A man like that would have no trouble finding someone to hook up with him.
I’d bet my last dollar that right now, he’s naked in someone’s bed.
Chapter 18
Griffin
“What the fuck, Griffin?” Dylan rounds the corner into his kitchen wearing only a pair of black boxer briefs. “I didn’t give you the key to my apartment so you could waltz in here whenever you damn well please.”
“Let me guess.” I reach for a glass tumbler from the cupboard above the sink before I pour myself two fingers of the best scotch I could find at the liquor store down the street. “Light brown hair, blue eyes, the body of a dancer.”
“Fuck you.” Dylan rakes both hands through his black hair. “I was mid-thrust when you started yelling that you were here. You scared the shit out of both of us.”
“What’s this one’s name?”
I let that hang in the air between us. It’s a dick move. We have an unspoken rule. I don’t bring up the bullshit from Dylan’s past and he leaves mine buried. Tonight, my callousness is fueled by the two drinks I had earlier.
“Go to hell,” he spits back.
“You don’t know her name, do you?” I slide the bottle across the marble counter toward him. “You don’t know because you don’t give a shit.”
He picks up the bottle and downs a swallow. “What do you want, Griffin? Why are you here?”
I scrub my hand over the back of my neck. I don’t have an answer to that question. I left Piper’s studio with the intent of going to the office to go over my notes before court tomorrow morning. The Lindel case is on the docket and I have every intention of squeezing every cent I can out of Lana’s client.
I didn’t make it to my office. I stopped by Easton Pub after spotting Sebastian inside with his new partner, a rookie detective. After introductions, I bought them both a beer while I nursed two glasses of scotch. By the time I left, they were heading out too. Sebastian offered to share a cab with me, but I told him I had work to do.
I ended up here after trying to call Dylan about a case file while I was waiting for the subway. He didn’t pick up and even though it was near midnight, I made my way to his apartment for no other reason than to drag him into the pit of misery I’m drowning in.
“It’s that fucking art class, isn’t it?” He takes another drink from the bottle. “Why the hell did you think it was a good idea to enroll in that? You had to know it was self-torture.”
How many years have to pass before the debilitating pain of loss finally leaves every cell of your body? I know for certain it’s not one, or five. What’s the magic number? Ten? Twenty? Fifty?
“Piper’s class has nothing to do with the past.” I grip the edge of the counter tightly with my left hand. “Don’t bring it up, Dylan. Don’t.”
“Don’t?” he echoes back in a low voice. “You’re the one who walked in here and ruined my night. You don’t get to dictate what we talk about.”
“I ruined your fuck,” I correct him with a sly smile. “So you didn’t get to shoot your load in a woman who looks like Eden tonight. Boo-fucking-hoo.”
He’s on me in an instant. His fists bunched around the lapels of my suit jacket. “Shut your mouth. Don’t say her name to me.”
“Who’s Eden?”
The sound of a breathy feminine voice turns both our heads in the direction of the hallway. I know what she’ll look like before I see her. Tousled sun-kissed locks of light brown hair, big blue eyes and lean legs. The only thing she’s wearing is a dress shirt. It’s blue, pinstriped and a match to the one Dylan was wearing when I left him at the office earlier to go to Piper’s class.
“No one,” Dylan lies through his teeth. “Go back to bed, beautiful.”
“Who are you?” Her gaze skims my face. “Are you staying?”
Fucking a woman that Dylan’s had his dick in isn’t going to happen. We’ve never touched the same pussy and that’
s not about to change.
“He’s no one too.” Dylan loosens his grip on my jacket. “He was just leaving.”
I should send her out the door and confront my best friend about his reckless need to relive his past with every woman he fucks. I’m not a therapist though and my demons can rival his any day of the week.
“I’m out.” I pat Dylan on the cheek as his one-night stand retreats to his bedroom. “Get back to it, buddy.”
