When Honey Got Married (21 page)

When the determination that had flowed through her mere moments before showed signs of crumbling, she steeled herself for all she was worth. She had to. If she’d ever been worried she might be swamped by Brent’s life plan, Griff was the kind of man who overshadowed everything else within a five-mile radius.

“Thank
you
,” she said. “That means a lot.” With that, she stepped away.

He followed. Was he being purposely obtuse? “But even while watching you leave was the gutsiest thing I’d ever seen, I’m not so sure you should have left.”

Damn it
! Her feet came to a halt. Damn
him
. It could have ended on such a high. Simple, clean, magical, and instead he was making her feel all tangled all over again. “How can it possibly help to say that now?”

“Because I can’t
not
say it anymore.”

“So why the hell
didn’t
you
ask
me to stay?”

A muscle worked in Griff’s cheek. “I didn’t have the right.”

“Who says?” Pippa rose up on her toes, and jabbed Griff in the chest to push her point home.

Griff ran a hard, fast hand up the back of his hair. “You wanted to leave. You needed to leave. What kind of friend would I have been to have stopped you?”

Emotion rising so hard and fast within her, Pippa clenched her hands into fists so as not to poke him again. Then had to fight the urge to pummel him like a two-year-old having a tantrum. “A friend? We were never anything as innocuous as friends, Griff Delacroix. And while we’re saying things that should have been said a long time ago, you were right back there. I am a liar. I do remember the first time we met. I even remember the first time I even heard your name.”

She wished for sunlight, anything so that she could read his dark, shadowed eyes. To know if any of this was making a dent. But he seemed so big, strong, stoic, while with each new confession she felt like she was being summarily stripped bare.

But the only way to leave Bellefleur behind without leaving a part of herself behind this time was with the truth. All of it.

“There was always something there with you, Griff. A spark. A recognition that I never felt with Brent. You’re a smart guy, you must have had some idea. And knowing that, you kissed me like you meant it, then let me go.” He reached out for her then, but she shoved him away. “What happened tonight is simply something that should have happened years ago. A way to get each other out of our systems. I’m heading back to LA. Leaving Bellefleur and all its ghosts behind me for good. And if you still think yourself any kind of friend of mine, don’t follow.”

And with that she walked out of the bushes, into the light, into the stream of guests now milling about, barely taking in the string quartet playing in the tent, the band back rocking the ballroom, the sea of faces, some calling her name, as she headed down the dogtrot and out the front door.

Her shoes crunched on the gravel as she all but jogged back to her Firebird. But rather than feel any kind of relief that her getaway car was just around the corner, she felt pissed that she still owned the thing. It was a bomb. It should never have left the swamp it was found in. And yet she’d never sold it, as it was the one last thing connecting her to Bellefleur. To the Delacroixes. To Griff.

Emotions scattered all over the place, one last memory sneaked through her defenses.

She remembered standing outside the Delacroixes’ five-car garage one summer holiday. The Firebird’s hood was popped so she could gaze in wonder at the engine, barely able to believe the car she’d scrimped and saved to buy from the guy with the swamp, was hers. It was her ticket to freedom. To choice. To the world.

Then came the crunch of footsteps on the gravel behind her. She’d known it was Griff before she’d even turned around. Something about the lazy strides, the prickle of skin at the back of her neck, the wave of heat that hit her before his large body had blocked out the sun.

He’d leaned beside her then, his big hands curling around metal. Then he’d laughed and shaken his head. “Pip Squeak,” he’d said in that deep Louisiana drawl that did exquisite things to the backs of her knees, “what have you gone and done?”

“Bought and paid for my own car, which is more than you’ve ever done.”

He’d turned to look at her then. His dark shaggy hair haloed by the afternoon sun. Dust motes dancing in a ray of sunlight. The thick scent of bougainvillea and summer in her nose. His face mere inches from her own.

“You got me there, Pip Squeak,” he’d said, his voice husky and deep. She hadn’t dared breathe for fear of fracturing the moment.

When she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, his eyes had moved to her mouth. Had darkened. And he’d breathed in long and slow, his nostrils flaring, his head shaking ever so slowly, as if he couldn’t help thinking bad, bad thoughts.

She’d been seventeen years old and it was the first moment she’d known what true desire felt like. Not a crush. Or puppy love. But grown up, hot, luscious, rich, decadent, dangerous need.

Then Brent had arrived, twirling the keys of the BMW his folks had bought him the day he got his license. He’d bounced up to them, flung an arm over Pippa’s shoulders, like a buddy would, and grinning, said how cool her car was, and dragged her away to meet the gang for ice cream.

She’d looked over her shoulder, half expecting Griff to be watching her walk away with that dark brooding thing he did so deliciously well, but he’d grabbed a rag and some kind of long stick thing, and was fiddling with her engine.

It wasn’t the last time she’d found him beneath her hood that summer. And at the end of those holidays, her car had started for the first time.

She shook her head hard, as if to rid it of the memory for good.

The minute she got back to LA she was selling the damn car. Hell, maybe she’d push it back in the swamp in which it had been found before she even left the city limits. Then she’d take a bus to LA. She’d hitch if that’s what it took.

Then no regrets, no loose ends, no looking back, she could get on with her life for real.

Okay, so she looked back once as she approached her car. But no one was on her tail.

She’d told Griff not to follow and he’d listened. Just as he had all those years before.

She fumbled for her key, got in her car, shoved the key in the ignition, and stilled.

She stared down the road. Streetlamps lit the rows of trees framing the pavement, sending gossamer shadows of Spanish moss fluttering over the whitewashed wall leading out of town.

She’d told Griff not to follow, and he’d listened. He knew what she wanted, knew what she needed, and had put aside any kind of want of his own and let her go.

Isn’t that how
P.S.
had been born?
P.S. Pip Squeak…you can do this, you can make it.
After a childhood spent being dragged around following someone else’s dreams, hadn’t she just wanted to be heard?

So why did the fact that he was letting her go, again, just as she’d asked, make her feel so damn rotten?

Chapter Seven

Griff had every intention of giving Pippa exactly what she wanted. Even while the thought of not seeing her again twisted his insides to the point of pain, who was he to stop her?

The answer came back loud and clear. He was the man who knew how
not
stopping her felt, and never wanted to feel that way again. And if that meant he was in for a fight, if he had to chase her down to the ends of the earth, so be it. Not like he’d ever taken the easy path before.

Lungs burning from the near-sprint up the driveway, he found her as he rounded the front gate. Sitting on the hood of her ancient red Firebird, all tucked up beneath her long black dress, hands on her knees, knees drawn to her chin, high heels dangling from her fingers, eyes glazed as she looked dead ahead, toward the way out of town.

His heart beat so hard at the sight of her, he could feel it all the way to his toes. Yet he shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants, thumbs hooked on the outside, and with a relaxedness he certainly didn’t feel, he ambled her way.

As he neared, her gaze cut to him. Her dark hair flickered across her face in the light evening breeze. She looked so small up on her big car he thought again of the skinny girl with the wild hair and bright eyes, running across the park, and he could practically smell hot dogs.

“Here you are,” he said, his voice rough with emotion.

“Here I still am. Though I’m not quite sure why.”

“You’re not?” he asked, taking a step closer.

She breathed deep, her eyes darkening.

The connection he felt to this woman was so strong, he could only hope her hold on it wasn’t as tenuous as she seemed to think. Because now he’d had her, now he’d held her and made love to her, and heard from her own lips how she’d felt about him once, he couldn’t see himself letting her walk away again.

Then he realized she was shaking. Trembling from head to toe.

“Jesus, Pip,” he said, forgoing any effort at cool. He was at her side in three long strides, whipping his jacket from his back and wrapping her in it.

He climbed up onto the hood, the metal creaking beneath his much greater weight, and snuggled up next to her, the dust on the hood making him wonder if his suit pants would ever be the same.

He looked down the road toward LA, his own home in Boston a long way behind him. And knowing it was now or never, he took a deep breath and said, “You asked why I was here.”

She sat up a little straighter as she said, “It was your brother’s wedding.” And when her lips kicked into a self-deprecating smile it was all he could do not to kiss that mouth.

“True. But you were right about Brent. He never understood my need to go out on my own. Saw it as a denunciation of everything he holds dear. So needless to say we’ve had our issues the past few years. And yet the second I heard you were coming, not even a natural disaster could have kept me away.”

She breathed deep, breathed out harder again, and rested her cheek on her knee to watch him. He took that as a sign to go on.

He said, “I’d spent my entire life knowing what my future would be, but unlike Brent it was never a comfort. It was a shackle around my neck I honestly felt I could do nothing about. Then you headed off into your future with nothing to guide you but your heart, and that was it for me. It took a few months, but I did up business plans, hired offices, minimal staff, nabbed a couple of grants, and had my first client on the go before I showed my folks what I wanted to do. They were shocked, but once they saw what I was achieving, that I was serious and enthusiastic, I think they were mostly relieved.

“I’ve always wanted to thank you for that.”

“So stop messing around, and thank me already.”

He glanced down at Pippa to find she now had tears in the corners of her eyes. She sniffed them back. Still a little skinny, still a little wild, still a whole lot the most plucky woman he’d ever known.

He reached up, sank a hand into her hair, and leaned down to kiss her. She took that kiss as if she’d been waiting for it her whole life. So tough, so soft. So the woman for him.

His hand in the back of her hair, he rested his forehead against hers.
Stop messing around.

“You’re it, Pippa,” he said, lifting his head to look into her eyes. “You’re the one. I should have fought for you then. And I’m sure as hell going to fight for you now.”

She slipped her fingers into his hair and shook her head. “You did more than anyone ever did for me. You listened. You heard. I needed to go, and you let me. The fact that you didn’t want to makes you even more remarkable.”

“I warn you now, I’m not doing that again. Ever.”

A sly smile lifted her soft lips. “You really are a smooth operator, Griff Delacroix. No wonder all the girls in town were so madly in love with you.”

“All the girls can go right ahead and love somebody else. There’s only ever been one girl for me.”

Her chest lifted, and she held her breath. And he held his right along with her. Until she said, “I thought I’d come back to make amends. But the truth is I’ve loved this town from the minute I arrived, and I’ve wanted you from the moment I first heard your name. Considering that hasn’t changed in a decade, I can’t see it changing anytime soon.”

Then, with a small shrug that was about the sweetest move he’d ever seen her make, Pippa said, “Have blog, will travel.”

Griff lay a hand against her cheek. “And I can build houses anywhere.”

Then he leaned down and touched his mouth to hers. And the metal of the old hood began to crumple beneath him.

The man-hours he’d poured into the car once upon a time had Griff sliding more carefully from the hood, taking Pippa around the waist and carrying her with him. “Something I’ve wondered for a very long time,” he said, lowering her slowly down the front of his body.

“And what’s that?”

“How far the seats of that fire hazard of a car of yours fold back.”

“This car is not a fire hazard. It’s a wonder. Beloved. I am never going to part with this car. And they go all the way.”

“Ouch, that answer was a little quick for my liking.”

She grinned, unfettered, free, and finally his. “I slept in there once or twice. Okay, more than that after I first left town. There’s more room than you think.”

Griff glanced down the road. The stars were out in force that night, but it was all quiet bar the soft rustle of leaves in the light breeze and the distant strains of music.

As if she’d read his mind, Pippa said, “Everyone who lives within ten miles of here is inside Belles Fleurs right now.” The latch of the front door clicked open. Her eyebrow slid north. “What’s wrong? Worried we’ll get caught? A Delacroix arrested for public indecency? What would the town think?”

His eyes found hers, her pupils inky discs in the near-darkness. And when he pulled her to him, her breath shot from her lungs in a satisfying sigh. “I’ve never much been one for caring about doing what people think.”

“Yeah,” she said grabbing him by the lapels and dragging his face to her neck, and tumbling into the open car door, “don’t I know it.”

…

An hour later, as Pippa and Griff stood leaning against the Firebird, both wrapped in Griff’s jacket, warm, snug, sated, kissing softly, gently, like they had forever ahead of them, a white stretch limo shot out of the front gate.

A goodly hunk of wedding dress sticking through the door told them it was the bride and groom. Pippa moved, as if she might catch Honey’s eye, but it was too late. The car was nothing but taillights. Then the whistle of a rocket hissed into the air and fireworks exploded over the house, and she and Griff both looked to the sky.

Griff said, “Fireworks? Who the hell
are
these people?”

“Want to go see?”

Griff wrapped his arms tighter about her. “Not so much.” His hands slid slowly up her back as he said, “Let’s get out of here.”

“Shouldn’t you say good-bye?”

“I’ve said good-bye to everyone I plan on saying good-bye to tonight.”

He pushed her hair from her face, his long fingers gentle. The fireworks lighting up the sky behind him had nothing on the desire that lit his eyes. And something else. Something sweet and rich and deep and new and ancient. And true.

“So where to now?” Pippa asked.

“The Firebird was an experience, but I suggest a hotel.”

“Well, it just so turns out that I have a room. But it’s not fancy. It’s at the HoJo’s on I-10.”

Griff looked down at her with one raised eyebrow. “Does it have room service?”

“Barely.”

“Does it have a
do not disturb
sign?”

“That it does.”

“Then what the hell are we doing standing around here yapping?”

As she got behind the wheel of her Firebird, Griff more than filling the passenger side of the car, Pippa couldn’t hope to contain her grin. For she no longer felt a fraud. Not one little bit. She felt free, truly free, for the first time in her life. Free to live, free to love, free to make mistakes, and free to learn from them. Because she knew she’d been heard, but she’d also finally learned how to hear.

With a last look at Griff, Pippa gunned the engine, did a U-turn, and headed toward Bellefleur, leaving her past behind. Like the dust kicked up by the Firebird’s tires it floated away on the sultry Louisiana breeze.