Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
GRIFF
I’m clinging to professionalism by a thread—Phil’s coming over!
—when I step into the elevator with Daria, Dorian, and Patton.
I know I left the place tidy this morning, but I wouldn’t mind giving it a once-over before he arrives—because yes, I’m trying to impress him.
Damian won’t mind if I handle some time-sensitive stuff and then take the rest of the afternoon off. We mostly work independently, and—
“I’m impressed, Griffin,” Daria announces, breaking into my thoughts. “I really like the clothes and the designer. Good job.”
“Thanks,” I say dryly. “So you want more of those tops?”
She nods. “Definitely. Not all patchwork, though. I like how it looks, but not so much that I want only patchwork.”
I shake my head. “We’re getting the patchwork one in exchange for the video and a pap walk, but the rest are going to be custom orders, so we have more control over those things. I’ll work with Calla to pick some colors and fabrics for you.”
“That’s the other thing I really liked, the way Phil brought the denim in for me to feel before anything else. After the asshole last year…” She shudders, and Dorian slings an arm around her in sympathy.
The “asshole” in question is the rep we were working with at a well-known luxury design atelier, who we overheard making snarky comments to a colleague about Daria’s sensory issues.
We hadn’t signed anything yet, so we walked.
My clients have to deal with enough crap in the media and online—they don’t need to hear it from the people they work with, and especially not for stuff they can’t help.
“You won’t have to deal with anything like that from Phil and Calla.” I might have only known them a few weeks, but I’m damn sure of that.
“What happened with him?” Dorian asks as the elevator doors open and we all exit. “When he got up and walked away. Was he okay?”
I shrug, though I wish I had the answer to that. He said he was okay, so I have to take that at face value. “He probably needed some space.”
“He and Calla make a good team,” Daria muses, then side-eyes me. “Do you think they’re…?” She wiggles her eyebrows.
My jaw clenches involuntarily, and I force it to relax. “I don’t ask people I work with personal questions.” That’s… partly a lie. It depends on the person.
“So you wouldn’t care if they were?”
She’s baiting me, but I’m determined not to let it show. “Why would I care?”
Dorian snorts. “Griff, man, even I could see that you’re down bad for Phil. My not-subtle sis is trying to find out if you plan to do anything about it.”
We step out onto the street. “I’m not discussing my personal life with you.”
Daria crows in victory. “That means yes. Way to go, Griffin! But if you guys ever have a fight, I can’t guarantee I’ll be on Team Griff. It depends on whether I need new tops.”
“That’s heartwarming, thank you.” I flip my hand in a wave as we separate to go to our cars, and her laugh trails after me.
The sound of the doorbell sets Vivi barking excitedly. She doesn’t normally get so wound up by it, but after watching me clean, shower, and set the table at a slightly frantic pace, she knows something’s up.
“That’s Phil,” I tell her, scooping her up and glancing around one more time to make sure I haven’t missed anything important.
The place looks good—tidy and clean, but not clinical—and I have a Top 40 instrumental playlist going on low for some background noise.
The table looks like I’ve made an effort but not tried too hard—I think—and I’ve just started getting the stuff out for dinner.
I’m wearing jeans and a designer button-down, but I’ve left my feet bare to make things more casual.
Plus, there’s Vivi. I took her into the shower with me and then let her pick a bow afterward. She opted for lacy yellow with cute rickrack trim, and she looks adorable.
There’s every chance I’m overthinking this. But I can’t remember ever being this nervy over a date before, not even when I was a teenager, and that has to mean something, right? So I’m not going to risk fucking it up.
I pause to take a deep breath before reaching for the door handle. I open the door, and Phil smiles hopefully at me, the porch light highlighting the fiery red tones of his hair.
I smile back and say, “Hi.”
“Hi.”
Vivi barks, thankfully interrupting what might have turned into an awkward moment, since my brain seems to have shut down at the sight of him on my doorstep. He turns his smile on her.
“Hi, Vivi! Ohhhh, you’re even cuter in real life than you are in pictures.” He lifts his hand, then glances at me. “Can I pet her, or is she standoffish with strangers?”
I chuckle. “Standoffish? Vivi never met her. She adores anyone who’ll worship her. Do you want to hold her?”
His eyes light up. “Yes!”
I hold her out to him, and Vivi happily transfers from being tucked under my arm to having Phil fawn over her. She even deigns to lick his face, prompting a delighted laugh.
He’s so beautiful when he’s happy.
“Come in,” I invite belatedly, stepping back so he can cross the threshold.
First rule of hosting: Don’t keep your guest on the doorstep.
I guess I failed that one. He follows me inside, still complimenting Vivi on her bow, and I close the door.
“I’ll give you a quick tour, and then you can keep me company while I cook, if that’s okay. ”
“Sounds good to me.” He looks around as we go through to the living room. “This is a nice house.”
“Thanks. It’s a little bigger than what I need, but I couldn’t pass up the location.
Plus, I get a break on the rent. It belongs to the mom of one of the guys I served with.
She went to live with her daughter in Oregon, and her son is stationed in Georgia.
She didn’t want to sell it, but she was worried about having a stranger live here when there wasn’t anyone around to check up on it, so Gavin—that’s my buddy—asked around to see if anyone he trusted needed a new place.
” I shrug. “It worked out great for me. I take care of the maintenance and send my landlady videos of the house and Vivi in exchange for paying less rent than I would anywhere else and a package of cookies every Christmas.”
Phil’s jaw drops. “She sends you cookies? I’m so jealous. Our landlord told us mold is the sign of a healthy living environment.”
I freeze midstep. “What?”
He shakes his head. “Don’t worry, Calla and our friend Xera sorted him out. But his argument was that if mold could grow in the apartment without us cultivating it, then it must be somewhere that has all the requirements to support life.”
That… makes no sense. “That’s so fucked up. It’s fixed now, right?”
“Oh, yeah,” he assures me. “In fact, it’s so fixed that he has someone come out twice a year for a mold inspection.”
A snort escapes me. “I knew I liked Calla. Anyway, this is the living room. Through there is the kitchen, where we’ll go in a second.
This way…” I lead him into the hall and toward the back of the house.
“… we have my bedroom, the bathroom, and the room that triples as a guestroom, office, and Vivi’s sanctuary.
Because apparently my dog is too good to share space with me. ”
On cue, she barks, and Phil leans his head down to rest against hers. “A princess knows her due.” He straightens and raises a brow. “Does she sleep with you, though?”
“When she feels like it.” Which is most nights, but occasionally she’ll surprise me.
We head back into the kitchen. “Oh, I love the table setting,” Phil says, letting Vivi down so she can go to her water bowl. “You didn’t have to go to that trouble, though.”
I guess the flowers were a giveaway that this isn’t how I set the table every night.
“It’s no trouble,” I insist. “I like to do something extra every once in a while. It reminds me that I’m not enlisted anymore.” I meet his gaze. “And you deserve to have people make an effort for you.”
His cheeks go red enough to match his hair, but I don’t look away. If he just wants us to be friends, that’s fine, but I won’t have it be because I wasn’t clear about what I want.
“It’s nice to be pampered,” he says at last, his voice quieter than usual. “It like it. I like… this. Being here.” He pauses, then adds, “With you.”
Fuck it.
I close the gap between us and bend my head—slowly, giving him time to move away if he wants to.
He doesn’t.
The first touch of my lips on his is soft, tentative—and yet somehow explosive. I feel the shock of it through my whole body. The universe fucking shifts on its axis, just from our mouths touching, even though there are still inches between our bodies.
And then his arms come up and he grips my shoulders, fingers digging in as he drags me closer. His mouth opens under mine, and I haul him up against me, wrapping my arms around him to keep him close as our tongues duel and explore.
Vivi’s barking is what eventually brings me back to reality. I break the kiss and dazedly lift my head, not sure what the fuck just happened. I’ve never been that situationally unaware before, but from the sounds of it, Vivi’s been barking for a while.
Phil exhales shakily, and I look down at him, still in my arms. His face is flushed, pupils blown, and his fucking gorgeous mouth is puffy and wet from my kisses. I dip to kiss him some more, but he huffs a tiny laugh and steps back.
“I think she wants her dinner.”
Pulling myself together, I follow his gaze and see my dog standing beside her food bowl, a recriminating glare on her tiny face.
“Uh… yeah. I guess I lost track of time.” I give my head a shake, trying to get my brain operational. “Have a seat. Can I get you a drink?” I start getting Vivi’s dinner sorted first.
“That would be great. Whatever you’re having is fine. I’m going to wash up, if that’s okay?” There’s the faintest tremor in his voice, and my head comes around sharply. Is he upset?
He looks fine, though—he’s even smiling. Maybe he just needs a second to recover from that mind-blowing kiss.
“Sure. It’s—”
“I remember. Thank you.” He slips out, and I take advantage of the moment alone to finish feeding Vivi, wash my hands in the sink, and give myself a pep talk.
He knows now that I want him. It’s not like anyone could have mistaken that for a “friendly” kiss. He didn’t shut me down; hell, he participated enthusiastically. That’s a good sign, right? Like maybe he considers this a date too?
I grab a bottle of wine a client gave me. It’s expensive, and I’ve been saving it for a special occasion. What could be more special than this? When Phil comes back, I’ll make sure he knows what I’m hoping for… and maybe tomorrow, I’ll be disclosing our brand-new relationship to Damian.
An awkward conversation with my boss about my personal life? A guy can only hope.