She's My Kind of Girl by Jennifer Dawson Page B

able to buy a nice little house and have no mortgage, just like you do here. Sign it.”
    Tammy picked up the papers, and Darcy handed her a pen. She looked at Darcy with a big, watery gaze. “Are you bringing it to Griff?”
    Darcy glanced at the clock over the ancient fridge. “As soon as we’re done here.”
    â€œAnd there’s nothing I can do to change your mind about staying home?”
    Darcy’s mind filled with the image of Griffin’s house, that house of her teenage fantasies. He’d given her a tour last night, after they’d finally exhausted themselves. Naked and curled in a blanket, she’d walked with him, listening to him talk about all the changes he’d made. She’d watched his face, the way it had shone in the soft light, and fallen even deeper in love with him.
    He’d done it. All the things he’d talked about growing up. It was then that she remembered he hadn’t really ever talked about travel like she had. She’d talked, and he’d listened. House, family, and community, those were the things Griffin had wanted. And he’d accomplished everything he’d dreamed of and more. He’d turned himself from a troublemaker into the pillar of the community. He was liked and respected.
    She’d made her own successes—just not here in Revival. She had a life, and she needed to return to it. She shook her head. “No. This isn’t my home anymore.”
    â€œThis has always been your home, baby.” Her mom smiled, sad and bittersweet. “You’re just too stubborn to admit it.”
    Darcy understood her mom believed that. But she knew the truth.
    Her mom signed the document and pushed it back to Darcy.
    She stared down at it. It was time to face Griffin.
    Time to say good-bye.

Chapter Eighteen
    Griffin stared out his office window onto Revival’s Main Street, unable to concentrate on the proposal for new streetlamps that sat in front of him. His mind kept wandering to Darcy. Last night and all the things he’d done to her. All the things he wanted to do to her.
    He didn’t delude himself where Darcy was concerned. She wouldn’t stay. He’d learned that lesson when he was eighteen and he’d tried so hard to convince her. She’d never wavered, and she’d never looked back.
    She couldn’t come home, and he couldn’t leave.
    That left them with no future.
    He held no illusions he’d change her mind.
    But that didn’t mean he couldn’t be with her while she was here. Griff knew how fast life could change, and he didn’t take it for granted. He wasn’t going to waste time with her to save himself the hurt when she walked away.
    Last night he’d realized all those things he’d been telling himself all these years were bullshit.
    He’d never really gotten over her.
    All those times he’d never allowed himself to date any of the women in Revival wasn’t because he was protecting his reputation, but because they weren’t Darcy.
    And after all this time, he still loved her. Had never stopped loving her.
    So he might not be able to have her, but he wouldn’t waste one second with her.
    He’d recover. He always did. But he’d hold fast while he had her.
    The intercom rang, and Mrs. Weller’s disapproving voice came over the line. “Darcy Miller’s here to see you. I told her you were busy, but she insisted.”
    Griffin smiled. Speak of the devil. “Send her in.”
    Mrs. Weller huffed and hung up.
    He laughed, but it died in his throat when Darcy walked into his office. Face affixed in a remote mask, she refused to meet his eyes.
    His chest gave a hard squeeze. There weren’t going to be any more nights.
    Last night was the only one.
    He wouldn’t even have her for a little while.
    She walked up to his desk, an envelope in her hand. When she stopped, she shifted on her feet.
    She didn’t want to say