I was trapped like an animal high in the air in that aluminum cage. He knew I had nowhere to go and he had all the power. Before that moment I'd been a little turned on by the edge of power and darkness I sensed in him. It wafted off him and enveloped me in its seductive warmth. It had seemed like just a little thrill. Harmless. He'd been the key figure in my twisted sexual fantasies for the month since I'd met him.
And I'm ashamed to admit it, but after that night on the jet, he's been even more prominent in my erotic mental movies. Every night I've gotten off even harder to thoughts of what could have happened, of what he could have done. And this is why I can't possibly see him again. Those feelings are too confusing. And I don't want to be that weak girl who lets a man like that in.
Still, he's called. He's sent flowers, chocolates. Today I received a handwritten letter in the mail from him asking yet again for another chance. It's engraved stationery on cream-colored cotton paper. I know he won't keep this up. There are a few days at the most before he'll stop this pursuit and I will have lost him forever. If I can just be strong for a few more days I can put this and him behind me.
It was only a month. Nothing serious. Soren is not the one.
“I'd ask if I could buy you an ice cream to cheer you up, but that method obviously isn't working.”
I look up, wiping the tears off my cheeks to find a very handsome man standing in front of me—as good looking as Soren, in fact. He is an angel to Soren's demon. His looks are light to Soren's dark.
He has a golden tan, sun-streaked blond hair, and some of the bluest eyes I've ever seen—besides my own. And a toothpaste commercial smile with a dimple. A freaking dimple.
He's got that casual Saturday in-the-park preppy look about him like he's just out for a stroll in between a round of golf and walking some pretentious special-edition dog breed. Settle down, Livia. He's probably got a girlfriend who walks their pretentious special-edition dog.
I've been sitting on a park bench, reading and re-reading the letter Soren actually put a stamp on and put in the mail to me. And I've been eating a scoop of chocolate chip ice cream out of a disposable bowl from the creamery a block away.
I hurriedly fold the letter and stuff it back in the envelope and stuff it in my bag as though I've just been caught doing something wrong.
“You look like you could use some air,” he says.
“We're outside.”
He laughs, and it's the most melodic sound I've heard in ages. “That's true, but sometimes even the open air can feel stifling. Sometimes you need to move. I was just going to go for a walk down by the river where it's breezier. Come join me?”
“I don't even know you.”
I honestly have no idea what kind of magic I've worked on the universe since I started this roster thing. I thought it was my confidence that was drawing men to me, but obviously not, since this one approached when I was crying and falling apart on a park bench.
“I apologize, where are my manners? I'm Griffin.”
“Like the mythological creature?”
He grins. “Indeed. So you know I'm safe.”
I laugh in spite of myself. “I'm pretty sure Griffins don't make good house pets.”
“So you'll keep me on a leash outside. It'll be fine.”
I laugh as that visual swoops through my mind.
I need to stop moping over Soren, and standing right in front of me is my ticket out of this mental spiral. His hand is extended out to me in invitation.
“You're wearing sensible enough shoes for it,” he says.
I've already lost track of the conversation and the invitation to walk with him. And I am wearing sensible shoes. My ensemble today consists of tennis shoes, soft heather grey shorts with a drawstring waist, and a darker charcoal grey racerback T-shirt. My hair is pulled back into a ponytail, and I look like I'm ready to go for a run.
Finally I sigh and put my hand in his, allowing him to pull me up to stand. This doesn't have to go anywhere. It's not like I'm going to marry him. It's just a walk down by the river.
“I'm Livia,” I say finally.
“Beautiful name. Griffin and Livia. I think that'll look just fine on the wedding invitations. Kidding. Relax, it's just a walk.”
But my shocked face isn't from the joke. It's the fact that I was just thinking about how it wasn't like I was going to marry him. And all at once my romantic little mind is off to the races again. Maybe... this guy? I know I just met him literally two minutes ago, but don't we often joke about things that have a bit of truth to them? Isn't that the core of a joke? Truth? Could this mean he's at least looking for something real?
We walk for miles, and much longer and farther than I'd thought we would. I find myself grateful to be wearing such sensible shoes and comfortable clothes. I can't even imagine what it was he saw in me. No makeup—though that's normal for me, workout clothes, and sobbing into ice cream. Nothing says ask me out on a date like that combination. Is this a date? Or is he just a nice guy trying to cheer me up? Maybe I remind him of his sister or something. Then again, wedding invitation jokes aren't very brotherly.
We've talked for well over an hour, and I really like him. In the space of a single afternoon he's managed to restore my faith in men.
“Are you hungry?” he asks, suddenly.
I skipped lunch and the ice cream doesn't have quite the staying power of real food.
“Actually... kind of?” I say it like it's a question.
We've found ourselves standing in front of the River Siren. It's a dinner cruise riverboat. I've never actually been on it because it's for the tourists. Griffin looks from the boat to me.
“So, let's go on a dinner cruise.”
“I'm really not dressed for it,” I say, looking down at my grey cotton workout uniform.
He laughs, gesturing at his khakis and polo shirt. “I'm not much better. But it's fine. You wouldn't believe some of the odd clothes tourists wear on this thing. It's hardly a fancy venue.”
I bite my lip. It actually sounds fun, and I could use the cheering up. “Don't you have to have reservations? Tickets bought ahead?”
“Nah. They leave a couple of tables empty in case a VIP shows up.”
I arch a brow. “And you're a VIP?”
He winks, and that devastating dimple comes out of hiding again. “Definitely. I'm friends with the owner of this little tourist trap on the water.”
“Okay. I mean... if you think you can get us in, it sounds like fun.”
He walks up to the outdoor podium where people are showing their pre-bought tickets. Griffin speaks low, so I don't hear him, but I barely catch the words from the man behind the podium. “Of course, Mr. Macdonald, we'd love to accommodate you and your lovely date.”
So I guess it is a date. But I think I already knew that.
The boat serves us Salisbury steak, mashed potatoes, green beans, and dinner rolls along with the best iced tea I've had in a while. It's comfort food—something I definitely needed after my big pity party in the park. After dinner we go up to the top deck where a live band plays swing music. Some of the tourists are already up dancing. Griffin drags me out on to the dance floor. He's a surprisingly good dancer, but I'm terrible.