Bebe
“You sure this is cool?” Griff asks as we walk into the biker bar.
I nod, and the reason it’s cool is because Griff had taken a hold of my hand after we’d exited my vehicle. It’s amazing how the simple touch of a man’s hand against mine can cause the butterflies to zoom around my belly again. It reminds me of my first real boyfriend in ninth grade, and I can remember how glorious it felt the first time we walked the school halls while holding hands.
I’d taken Dozer’s advice to stop worrying so much. I’d even relented and allowed Griff to pick me up at my house, but honestly… that was more the fact I’d run a background check on him that turned up clean.
He’d rumbled up my driveway on the Harley, but after he’d come inside, met my mom, and said hello to Aaron, we decided to take my car since rain was in the forecast later that evening.
We went out for dinner first, and I found it oddly comforting he suggested we eat at TGI Fridays. It wasn’t fancy, and I appreciated the low-key atmosphere. We both sat at the bar, ate ribs, and drank a beer while we chatted.
Again, it was easy talk. Favorite movies, favorite foods, favorite books. After dinner and as we were waiting for the bill, Griff said, “I’m not ready for the evening to end yet. How do you feel about playing some pool or something?”
I’d loved the suggestion because I wasn’t ready for it to be over either. Every passing minute, every little thing I learned about this man, made me like him just a little bit more.
The biker bar he chose is one he’d been to before. He didn’t make attempts to assure me that he’s not a bar fly or he didn’t drink excessively. I like he’s confident enough he doesn’t have to explain how he knows about this bar.
Griff grabs us a beer, and we find an empty table near the back. It’s not overly crowded as it’s still early—barely eight-thirty—and a Wednesday night to boot.
Griff teases me as he racks the balls. “Are you a shark? Should we lay some money on this?”
Chuckling, I tell him the ugly truth. “I haven’t played pool since college, and that was a long damn time ago.”
His head pops up, eyebrows rising. “College, huh? Where did you go?”
Shit. That information is too close to my eventual downfall. Still, I answer with a breezy smile. “MIT.”
Griff’s mouth hangs open slightly. “Damn… I didn’t realize you’re a genuine brainiac. What was your degree in?”
I laugh nervously, playing it off as best I can. “Not too much of a brainiac. I dropped out after my sophomore year. Pregnant with Aaron.”
He nods in what appears to be understanding. I’d left the implication heavy in the air that my pregnancy caused me to leave college when, in reality, it was the fact I’d gotten way too deep into cybercrime.
“I admire you raising Aaron on your own. Getting pregnant in college couldn’t have been easy.”
“Yeah,” I reply a little thickly, shifting away from his gaze to grab a pool stick off the rack on the wall. “Thanks.”
When I turn around, Griff has finished racking the balls and stands at the high-top table we’d set our beers on. He doesn’t mention the pregnancy or Aaron again, for which I should be grateful, but he ends up asking about something even worse.
“So, tell me more about your job,” he says.
I internally wince, knowing the questions are just going to get more personal. I’m nowhere near ready to tell him about my horrible truth. Dozer told me to trust my gut on when the right time would be, and I can affirmatively state now is not that time.
I move over to the table, take a long pull off my beer, and set it down. “Oh, it’s not all that interesting. I basically do minor computer repair, software installation, and troubleshooting for customers.”
“Is that what you were studying at MIT? Computers?”
“Yeah,” I murmur, my gaze dropping to my beer bottle. I have a moment of sadness over what could have been had I stayed on the righteous path. “Guess that stuff sort of comes naturally to me.”
“Well, dairy farming came naturally to me,” he says with a booming laugh, “but I didn’t like it at all. So the moral to that story is just because you’re good at something doesn’t mean you should be doing it for your career.”
“I’ll drink to that.” I chuckle, picking up my beer bottle and tapping it against his. “But seriously… dairy farming can’t be all that bad.”
And just like that, Griff is off and running, explaining about his family’s farm in New York and just how backbreaking the work can truly be. I’m relieved because the attention has been taken from me and the potential avalanche of lies I’d have to keep telling him the more he asked. For the time being, I’m happy to listen to him talk.
Over the next hour, we sip at our beers, play pool, and flirt. Either I’m not as rusty at flirting as I thought I’d be, or the beer is making it easier, but regardless, it’s fun.
I’m having a good time, and I can’t remember the last time I just enjoyed myself with another human being.
Griff smiles a lot. When I try to scoot past him to line up for a shot, he’ll move out of the way just enough so he has to touch my hip or my arm as I move by. There’s a tiny thrill each time it happens.
And there’s laughter.
I’ve had so little to laugh about for so long—because, let’s face it, prison isn’t a happy place—that my face actually starts to hurt. But Griff is funny and self-deprecating, and I’m hopelessly drawn to him as the night wears on and the beers keep coming.
Another couple saunters over and asks if we want to play doubles, and Griff and I agree. They’re not local, just visiting some family and out for a night of fun away from the kids. We have a great time with laughter and more beers. At some point, I end up leaning into Griff and his hand comes around my waist as we watch our opponent take a shot on the pool table. I feel protected. Despite the fact it’s not an overly intimate touch, I feel desired.
I can feel it radiate from him, which makes Dozer’s words reverberate through my head about how I should go for it.
Around eleven, the other couple leaves and Griff and I finish our last beer.
“Listen,” he says, taking my hand. His green eyes are mesmerizing. “I’ve had way too much alcohol to drive you home. I’ll pay for a cab for you.”
My head tilts in question. “What will you do?”
“I live within walking distance. Just a few blocks from here.”
“Hmmm,” I murmur, glancing at the pool table. I’m sad our evening is ending because this has all felt new and magical. I never thought I’d have this again in my life.
“Or…” Griff says, which causes me to snap my head his way, my eyes locking on him. My pulse speeds up. “You could come to my place. I’ll make us some coffee.”
“I’m not ready to have sex with you,” I blurt out, but then immediately cringe. “Oh, my God… I have no clue why I just said that.”
“I didn’t have any expectation we’d have sex,” he says with a chiding smile. “Truly… just coffee. But I’m also glad to get you a cab.”
“I’m not averse to sex in general,” I say. Once again, I sort of shrink backward with a full-body cringe. “Oh God… why did I say that?”
Chuckling, Griff steps into me and puts his hands on my hips. “Just relax, Bebe. We aren’t going to do anything you don’t want to.”
“I’m just so nervous all of a sudden,” I babble, continuing in a rush of tangled words. “And my friend Dozer told me to not get wrapped up in my head about this and to do whatever I wanted to do, as long as I’m safe, and well… I do feel safe with you and we’d have to be safe about sex, so I guess that—”
Griff’s mouth comes down on mine, effectively shutting me up, and I start to sink into oblivion. His kiss is so fantastically amazing, and I lose myself in it. After another few moments, I know if he told me to get naked and get on the pool table, I’d do it. It has to be a combination of alcohol and forced celibacy, but the deeper part of my psyche realizes Griff has the power to make me feel so much more if I ever gave him a shot.
Way too quickly, his mouth is gone and he’s smiling down at me. “Let’s go to my apartment. We’ll have some coffee and sober up so cooler heads prevail, but I’m still going to need to put you in a cab at some point. It’s a work night for us both, and we won’t be safely sober enough to drive for a while. So let’s just go hang for a bit longer. We can plan our next date.”
“There’s going to be another date?” I ask curiously, my lips still tingling from his kiss. My chest constricts from the sweetness of his words.
“After that first kiss?” he asks with a wink. “You’re damn straight there’s going to be another date.”
When I laugh, it comes from a genuine place within me that I haven’t opened up to many other people. A part I thought might have died from living in isolation and fear for seven years. But it feels good. Besides, the way Griff’s eyes light up from the sound makes it even better.
We leave the bar, hand in hand, and walk the few blocks to Griffin’s apartment. It’s small, but clean and nicely furnished. “Sorry it’s a little bare,” he explains as we enter. “I’ve still got all my stuff in storage from the move.”
“I can help you unpack sometime if you want,” I offer, glancing around the living room.
Griff moves into the kitchen, then starts the first cup of coffee in his Keurig. “Sure, that would be great.”
There’s not much to see in his apartment. There’s a short hall off the living area that has two doors—presumably, a bathroom and a bedroom. I move into the small kitchen just as the first cup of coffee is done brewing.
Griff hands me the cup, then points to the fridge. “Cream is in there. Hope you don’t want sugar as I don’t have any.”
“Black is fine,” I reply, giving a tiny huff over the steamy top before taking a sip. While I like my frothy cappuccinos and sweet confections in my java, years of only having black coffee available in prison made me adaptable.
Griff rests a hip against the counter as his cup brews, pushing his hands into the front pockets of his well-fitted jeans. “When are Aaron’s football tryouts?”
“Saturday.” I mimic his stance, leaning against his counter with my coffee in hand. “He’s so nervous.”
“I can practice with him some more if you want,” he offers.
“Really?” It’s the sweetest offer, because Aaron is anxious about it. “We don’t want to be a bother.”
“You and Aaron are not a bother,” Griff chides with a stern frown. “And he’s a good kid. I enjoy helping him out.”
“He really appreciates what you taught him. I have no skills whatsoever. Without a male figure in the picture, it can be challenging with a boy.”
Griff nods, his eyes sympathetic. “I can only imagine.”
“So you had a close relationship with your dad?” I surmise.
“Very,” Griff says with a chuckle. “I mean… a lot of time was spent working on the farm with him, which isn’t always the most fun, but he’s a good listener… my dad. I can talk to him about anything. And he taught me how to throw a football and how to fish.”
“See, I worry I’m not able to give everything Aaron needs—”
“You give him exactly what he needs,” Griff interrupts. “You may not know what the hell you’re doing with a football, but you were out at the park with him, encouraging him to play. That’s all that really matters to a kid, Bebe.”
I look down at my cup, sadness starting to fill me. “I wasn’t always the best mom. Wasn’t always available to him.”
I risk a peek at Griff, wondering if this is the time to spill my guts about my history. He gives a slight shrug. “No one is perfect, Bebe, but what I do know is your kid seems happy and well adjusted. I’d say you’ve been a damn good mom to him.”
And right there… I know I can’t say anything because Griff is already giving me too much credit. He’s built me into someone I’m not, and I’m not ready to see the disappointment on his face when he learns about the real me.
Maybe I should just do as Dozer says. Fuck him and have fun. This doesn’t have to be anything more than a casual hookup that can help me to scratch an itch that’s been brewing for a long damn time.
I put my coffee cup down, not wanting to do anything to interfere with my buzz and the courage it’s giving me to take a step toward the sexy man across from me.