first.
“What do you mean,” she breathed, “unusual?”
“What I mean is…” Griff said, but then he stopped. He tilted her chin with one finger, and regarded her with hungry eyes. And then Junior wasn’t sure if she gave up waiting on him or whether it was Griff who pulled her closer and took her lips with his own.
He seized on her desire, knew it somehow and melded it with his own and kissed her deeply, making her moan back in her throat and drawing her against him.
It was Griff who finally pulled away, because Junior would have kissed him forever. It was Griff who looked at her with confusion mixed with the hunger in his eyes.
“What I mean is I want you more than I’ve wanted any other woman. And yet you don’t even remember making love to me last night. What I mean is that every man in this damn town seems to know you better than I do, but for some reason I want to know everything there is about you.
“And finally, it’s an unusual experience for me to have a woman want me just to make a, you know, baby—” Griff’s voice broke off, but he took a deep breath and continued. “—when that’s the last thing in the world I ever went looking for. In short, it’s an unusual situation.”
Junior drew back, too, so that she reclaimed her own tiny part of the swing, and looked at him.
“You said woman,” she said. “You said I was an unusual woman, and now you’re saying it’s an unusual situation.”
“So I did,” Griff said. “I guess I don’t know what I mean. Junior. Junior-I-don’t-even-know-what-your-real-name-is, Junior, you confuse me. I want you. I don’t want to want you. I think it’s a very bad idea to want you.”
He didn’t know the half of it, it was clear. The bad idea was for her to want him. This was supposed to be a simple, clean, wham-bam arrangement. Thank you, sir, and have a nice life. How had they come to be sitting here devouring each other with their eyes like a pair of teenagers?
“Junior is my real name,” she finally sighed.
Griff reached for her fingers, twined them in his own, and suddenly it was a little more okay. It was nice, sitting here. She could hear the revelers in the back yard, and now and then a couple of kids would tear shrieking across the front lawn in some game of chase, but they were alone in the dark shadow of the porch.
“Come on. I know this is a backwards kind of place, and all, but the other women have normal, I mean at least faintly normal, names.”
“My dad wanted a Junior,” she said, smiling at the memory. “But one after another the boys were born and they were all the spitting image of my mom. She was beautiful,” she added a little wistfully.
Griff’s heart lurched a bit. It was inconceivable to him that Junior didn’t understand her stark, shocking beauty, it was that obvious, but maybe not enough people had bothered to point it out to her.
“So they kept waiting, thinking the next one would look like dad, you know, with the red hair and skinny and all that. And, well, number four was me and there I was, carrot top from the get-go, and they say I hollered the minute I saw Dad and he said ‘This is the one’ and my mom’s not exactly a pushover but she knows to get out of the way when he’s got his mind set on something. My middle name is Annabel, by the way. That was mom’s doing.”
“Annabel,” Griff said, turning it over. Ridiculous.
“But if you tell anyone I’ll kill you.”
“Right. I, um, feel about the same way about my own middle name.”
“Really? What is it?”
But Griff didn’t really have the heart to conjure up memories of Maggie Goldman and so instead he kissed her again, and this time he didn’t stop, but just pulled Junior onto his lap where she fit rather perfectly.
Junior slipped in between the circle of revelers, and crossed in front of the bonfire.
She found Taylor and her new husband sitting on a bench that had been pulled up near the fire. Someone had found a
“What do you mean,” she breathed, “unusual?”
“What I mean is…” Griff said, but then he stopped. He tilted her chin with one finger, and regarded her with hungry eyes. And then Junior wasn’t sure if she gave up waiting on him or whether it was Griff who pulled her closer and took her lips with his own.
He seized on her desire, knew it somehow and melded it with his own and kissed her deeply, making her moan back in her throat and drawing her against him.
It was Griff who finally pulled away, because Junior would have kissed him forever. It was Griff who looked at her with confusion mixed with the hunger in his eyes.
“What I mean is I want you more than I’ve wanted any other woman. And yet you don’t even remember making love to me last night. What I mean is that every man in this damn town seems to know you better than I do, but for some reason I want to know everything there is about you.
“And finally, it’s an unusual experience for me to have a woman want me just to make a, you know, baby—” Griff’s voice broke off, but he took a deep breath and continued. “—when that’s the last thing in the world I ever went looking for. In short, it’s an unusual situation.”
Junior drew back, too, so that she reclaimed her own tiny part of the swing, and looked at him.
“You said woman,” she said. “You said I was an unusual woman, and now you’re saying it’s an unusual situation.”
“So I did,” Griff said. “I guess I don’t know what I mean. Junior. Junior-I-don’t-even-know-what-your-real-name-is, Junior, you confuse me. I want you. I don’t want to want you. I think it’s a very bad idea to want you.”
He didn’t know the half of it, it was clear. The bad idea was for her to want him. This was supposed to be a simple, clean, wham-bam arrangement. Thank you, sir, and have a nice life. How had they come to be sitting here devouring each other with their eyes like a pair of teenagers?
“Junior is my real name,” she finally sighed.
Griff reached for her fingers, twined them in his own, and suddenly it was a little more okay. It was nice, sitting here. She could hear the revelers in the back yard, and now and then a couple of kids would tear shrieking across the front lawn in some game of chase, but they were alone in the dark shadow of the porch.
“Come on. I know this is a backwards kind of place, and all, but the other women have normal, I mean at least faintly normal, names.”
“My dad wanted a Junior,” she said, smiling at the memory. “But one after another the boys were born and they were all the spitting image of my mom. She was beautiful,” she added a little wistfully.
Griff’s heart lurched a bit. It was inconceivable to him that Junior didn’t understand her stark, shocking beauty, it was that obvious, but maybe not enough people had bothered to point it out to her.
“So they kept waiting, thinking the next one would look like dad, you know, with the red hair and skinny and all that. And, well, number four was me and there I was, carrot top from the get-go, and they say I hollered the minute I saw Dad and he said ‘This is the one’ and my mom’s not exactly a pushover but she knows to get out of the way when he’s got his mind set on something. My middle name is Annabel, by the way. That was mom’s doing.”
“Annabel,” Griff said, turning it over. Ridiculous.
“But if you tell anyone I’ll kill you.”
“Right. I, um, feel about the same way about my own middle name.”
“Really? What is it?”
But Griff didn’t really have the heart to conjure up memories of Maggie Goldman and so instead he kissed her again, and this time he didn’t stop, but just pulled Junior onto his lap where she fit rather perfectly.
Junior slipped in between the circle of revelers, and crossed in front of the bonfire.
She found Taylor and her new husband sitting on a bench that had been pulled up near the fire. Someone had found a
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