Page 47 of The Curveball
Unbidden, tears line my lashes. “My mom and aunt made a custom cake in the shape of a book with my cover on it the day it released, and my brothers tell me they use it as a romance guidebook in their relationships.”
Griffin chuckles at that. “Not a bad idea.” He takes a step closer, so he’s towering over my chair. “Why is it so hard to believe I might think it’s as awesome as your family does?”
His question mulls over in my brain a few times. There isn’t a real answer to give him, not one that make sense at least. To him, I most likely look riddled in self-doubt. In truth, I think I’m sabotaging myself.
When I went to therapy, my counselor told me when people start to crack my defenses, I burn my own gates in a way. I push them back; I think the worst of them. Strike first before they strike me, sort of thing.
For the first time, I get what she meant.
I lift my gaze. “I don’t know. Thank you for the compliment.”
He takes another swig of his water, unaware of the things he’s doing to me. Griffin Marks is spinning my life off its axis one day at a time.
I pull out my phone from my pocket and pull up my different social media sites. “I’ll make a post, and I’ll make sure everyone knows you were not drunk.”
“Tell them I’m better than Tyler.” He laughs at his own joke.
“Right after I provide proof of life.”
“Proof of life. I love it.”
I scoff and arch my brows. “It’s true. I might write contemporary romance, but my readership is not one to shy away from Mafia and dark romances. It’s probably not a far stretch for them to imagine I’ve been abducted by some sexy, broody, Italian don who is, at heart, a big softie for his woman.”
“That’s a thing?”
“Oh, it’s a whole genre. I’m pretty sure if half the dark romance readers were ever abducted, they’d cry if the police showed up and ruined their broody, twisty romance with their Mafia capo.”
Griffin makes a noise in his throat and lifts his brows, clearly a little disturbed. “I guess I’ll leave you to it then. I’m a call away if you need anything.”
“Go. Be a good son. Butter her up so she loves me when she meets me.”
“You’re Marci Grey,” he says as he takes a step toward the door. “I think I’ll officially be fighting for a place in my mom’s heart when she meets you.”
I roll my eyes and turn away when my face heats. Griffin waves and leaves out my front door.
Only once the sound of his jeep fades away do I breathe again. I’m not going to survive this. It’s been two days and already I can hardly keep my head on straight around the man. I’m not as insulting; I’m almost complimentary. I don’t even want to talk about how much I stare at him.
It’s official, I’ve become the woman who looks at a man like he’s a meal.
I always judged women like that. Shame on me. Now, I’m the one doing the same.
Forcing thoughts of Griffin Marks out of my head, I hurry and make my posts on social media, posting a few selfies to prove I’m alive and well. I even do a quick live in my main author group, insisting both Griffin and me are unharmed, and he was in no way intoxicated.
I flip the screen off and slump in my seat. Two seconds is all I get before my phone lights up with a text.
I smile at the name.
When I came to study the team, I was closest with Alice, but Skye Knight is becoming a fast friend.
Skye:Hey, girl! How are you surviving the Griffin tornado?
Me:He’s so sunny all the time it’s impossible to feel sorry for myself at all.
Skye:*laughing emoji* Right? How’s the head?
Me:Much better today. I look like I have a horn still, but it doesn’t ache so much.
Skye:Good. Listen, Alice and I were thinking of meeting for coffee. Want to join?