And there it was. More proof that they were riding the friendship train. She’d never be interested in him physically. She was all about his three-act structure.
“Yeah, well, my scripts aren’t tattooed on my body. Damaged? Hell, yeah, it’s damaged. More than most people even realize. Not even Kelsey, because, you know, it’s not like I want my sister to see me naked.”
Good God, had he actually said that out loud?
From the bright red color on her cheeks, he was going to assume that he had, and that was damned unfortunate. Because although his right hip and side were in pretty bad condition, all of his necessary parts worked just fine, thank you very much.
Not that he told Beverly any of that, though. Because he could only ride the friendship train so far.
“I do get what you’re saying,” she said, her eyes hard on his. “It’s just that I don’t see you the way you do. Not wrong. Not damaged. Just smart and funny and talented.”
That tightness was back in his chest, and he quenched it by polishing off the rest of his wine. “I think we need more.”
“Maybe we do.”
He started to rise.
“Griffin?”
He paused, looking at her.
“Can I—” The question came with an extended hand, and he shook his head, flinching back as if he feared she’d touch without permission. “Oh. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’m just not—”
“Ready?”
“Comfortable.” Ready suggested there might come a time when it was okay, and he didn’t see that happening.
As if she understood his thoughts, she nodded. “Right. Okay.” She stood. “Let’s go get refills.”
They ended up drinking the next round in the kitchen, pairing the lovely Pinot Grigio with the Chips Ahoy cookies he had stashed in his pantry. The conversation drifted to his Mustang, and he was relieved. He wanted to talk to her—loved the way she listened and asked questions and got into it even though cars clearly weren’t her thing.
He was enjoying the casual conversation so much that he lost track of time, though he was consoled to realize that she had as well when she jumped up with a sharp, “Oh, hell! I’m going to be late. I was supposed to meet Megan for my make-up five minutes ago.” She pulled out her phone. “I’m texting my ETA. Want me to say you’re coming, too?”
“Sure.”
Her smile bloomed as he stood up. “Good. Because we should be together when we tell everyone the good news about Hidden Justice, and I don’t want to have to wait for you.”
“Fair enough.” He stepped closer so he could grab her glass off the table to carry it to the sink. But she reached out, taking his left hand in her right before he’d picked it up, and the shock of the unexpected connection sizzled through him, an electrical storm sparking inside him in all the right places.
“I really am sorry about earlier,” she said softly. “But please believe me when I say that nothing I saw bothers me. And most of all, I want you to know how much I love the script and how excited I am that we’re moving forward.”
It was the right thing to say. A kind thing to say.
It was also the kind of thing a friend would say, and as they headed out the door to her car, Griffin let go the last small hope that something more than friendship might bloom between them.