25. Griffin
GRIFFIN
There’s a band I sit in with sometimes, and we had a good practice tonight. We got drinks after, but the other guys didn’t stick around too long, because they all have families to go home to.
I don’t. I have Zeb, and Frank … and Ember. Who’s probably found her vibrator by now, and is making good use of it. I don’t want to torture myself by listening to that again.
So I’m sitting at a table in the back, brooding, nursing a beer, when my skin tingles, like a ripple of electricity has flowed through the room. I look up and see Ember taking a seat at the bar.
My first impulse is to go to her, like a moth to the proverbial fucking flame. But I stop myself. She’s made her feelings clear, and I’m not in the mood for more rejection right now.
It’s so fucked up. She’s the most special woman I’ve ever known, and I can’t touch her—she says—because we work together. And if we didn’t, I probably would never have met her.
Which is a thought I cannot stand. Having her in my life is infinitely better than not knowing her, no matter how hard—in all senses of the word—things are right now.
I keep my distance, but I can’t take my eyes off her, so I see the moment a man sits next to her. My hands curl into fists as he starts talking to her. He smiles, and she smiles back, with a little toss of her hair.
I want to kill the guy, whoever he is. Doesn’t he see the big, neon Hands Off sign I’ve cosmically attached to her?
She’s wearing a short skirt, and the dude keeps looking down, checking out her bare legs. As the two of them laugh about something, he touches her thigh, letting his hand rest there a moment.
Fuck him. No one else should be touching her. As my stomach churns, my phone buzzes.
It’s Zeb. Finishing up dinner, ready in a few minutes .
Leaving Ember with this guy is not an option. And hell, maybe I feel like starting trouble. So I text him back. I’m at Double or Nothing. Ember’s here and some guy’s hitting on her.
The response is immediate. I’ll be right there .