Compensation, Cranberry-Free
Maisie
Oh. My. God. I'd just made a total ass of myself – rambling like a malfunctioning Roomba about sex in cars and Lord knows what else.
Sure, I hadn't used the word "sex" outright, but it had been strongly implied.
By me.
With him.
Plus, I'd tried to throw out his laundry for God's sake.
And now I didn't know what to do.
A full hour had passed since I'd gone off the rails, and I'd seen no sign of Griff, not even a peek.
I glanced toward the door to the back room and felt the knot in my stomach tighten. I couldn't even recall if I'd shut the door myself on the way out or if Griff had shut it after me.
At this point, he was probably putting up a deadbolt.
Between customers, I'd been trying to stay busy – fixing displays, reorganizing the helmets, and mostly pretending that I wasn't reliving my stupid performance on a mental loop.
I glanced at the clock. Already, it was half past noon, and I'd given Griff no compensation for his work. I mean, yeah, I'd brought him coffee, but that was nearly nothing. And even with the expensive loaner bike, a single beverage hardly counted as real compensation.
I chewed on my lower lip. What if he quit?
And let's say he did, could I blame him?
Not really.
My gaze strayed to the little blue cooler that I'd tucked under the front counter. It contained three sandwiches – two for him and one for me. I'd packed Griff's sandwiches into a single paper bag, so he could eat them wherever he wanted.
I frowned with a sad realization. He couldn't eat them anywhere if I didn't hand them over.
I returned my attention to the connecting door. Hopefully he was still in the back room, but there was that rear exit. Surely, he hadn't escaped?
I stared at the door for way too long before letting out a resigned sigh. I'd have to face him eventually . And besides, those sandwiches weren't going to eat themselves.
I crouched, flipped open the cooler, and grabbed the paper sack containing his lunch. A moment later, I eased through the connecting door with the bag in-hand, half expecting to find him gone.
He wasn't.
Instead, he was crouched beside a half-disassembled bike, totally focused, sleeves shoved up, grease on his forearm. And okay – yes, maybe I noticed the way his jeans pulled snug over his hips as he leaned in to tighten the crankset with those ridiculously steady hands.
I gave myself a mental slap – not for making a fool of myself earlier, but for ogling his backside now.
Yes, I meant his ass. Thank goodness Beverly wasn't here – all grabby and giggly – because if things got out of control, maybe his hand wouldn't be the only thing she'd latch onto.
I rolled my eyes. Get a grip, will ya? Beverly might be rambunctious, but she would never do that – well, at least not without permission or a whole lot of tequila.
I knew this because she was a regular at Franny's weekly card games, and let's just say, she did like her margaritas.
I cleared my throat, looking to get Griff's attention.
When he turned to look, I held up the paper bag. "Lunch."
His gaze drifted to the bag, but he said nothing.
I moved forward until I was close enough for him to grab it. "I made it myself. I hope that's okay."
Something flickered in his gaze like the news wasn't all bad. "Homemade's fine by me." He set down the wrench, wiped his hands on a rag, and reached toward the bag only to pause in mid-motion. His brow furrowed like he was having second thoughts.
I was pretty sure I knew why.
Call me an idiot, but I couldn't stop myself from teasing him just a little. "You do like cranberries, right?"
He froze, eying the bag like it might chew his face off. In an oddly neutral voice, he said, "So…it's a cranberry sandwich?"
I'd been holding it in, but the way he said it made me laugh louder than I should have. "No. But you should see your face."
His mouth twitched, and he snatched the bag from my hand. He opened it and pulled out one of the sandwiches wrapped in cellophane. He lifted it close to his eyes and squinted through the clear wrapping as if searching for worms in an apple.
I hadn't meant to torture him. "Don't worry," I said with a reassuring smile. "There's nothing but tuna and homemade bread." I hesitated. "And mayo. Oh, gosh. You do like mayo, right?"
He gave a slow nod. "Mayo's good."
"Because if it isn't, I'll remember to skip it next time. Oh…and I'll also bring chips. I would've brought some today, but I didn't have any. I mean, I just need to hit the store, that's all. And it won't always be tuna…unless you want it to be tuna?"
Good grief. I was rambling again.
And thinking.
And imagining.
I gave myself a mental kick. Do not think about the Buick .
He grinned. "Hey, I like anything."
I didn't believe that for a second. I cocked an eyebrow. "Anything, huh?"
He looked ready to laugh. "What are you getting at?"
"Nothing. I just saw you picking off the cranberries yesterday, so I wanted to make sure there's nothing else you don't like." I should've stopped there, but the jokester in me couldn't resist asking, "What about raisins? You like them , right?"
He grinned. "Sure, but only under extreme duress."
I laughed. "What does that mean?"
His smile faded. "It means, if you're hungry enough, you'll eat anything." As he said it, a shadow crossed his features, making him look like a man who had learned this the hard way.
A twinge of something – maybe sympathy, maybe guilt – tightened in my chest. The teasing fell away, and I considered what he'd told me yesterday – that he was broke and living in a place that sucked.
I still didn't believe it.
But I wanted to learn more. Suddenly I was wishing that I could pull out my own sandwich and interrogate him over lunch. But that was a luxury I didn't have. One of us had to stay out front, and that person was obviously me.
And besides, the guy deserved some peace while he ate. As he began unwrapping the sandwich, I turned and headed for the front. I was just passing through the doorway when Griff called out, "Hey Maisie."
I turned to look. "Yeah?"
He lifted the sandwich in a mock toast, one bite missing. "Best sandwich I had all day."
I snickered. No doubt, it was the only sandwich he'd had today, so this was hardly a compliment. But I smiled just the same.
If I wasn't careful, I could definitely get used to this.