Seriphina Joseph
GRIFFIN HOLDS ME UNDER his arm the entire way out of the clinic and I’m grateful for it. He is like a solid weight, anchoring me when the walls around me feel claustrophobic. He guides me into the jeep with his hand on the small of my back.
“Seatbelt,” he murmurs, reaching across and clicking it into place. He closes the door and sprints around to his side, getting in and starting the engine. He grips the steering wheel for a moment looking straight ahead before shifting it into gear.
“Italian or burgers?” His tone is casual, like he’s trying to remove the weight of the last hour.
“Because I swear to God if you say ‘whatever you want,’ I’m takin’ you to that shitty place near your store that puts raisins in their potato salad.
” This isn’t an offer of food, he’s offering me control, a choice. Something small but mine.
“Burgers sound good.” I almost laugh, except I’m not fully back from the haze of the clinic.
He grins, slow and lopsided. The corner of his eyes crinkle. He pulls out of the parking lot. “Good choice, Sunshine. I know somewhere that makes the best milkshake you’ll ever have.”
Twenty minutes later, we are pulling into the parking lot outside what looks like an old school roadside diner. The neon sign flickers, ‘Maggie’s’ and he nods to it as he kills the engine.
“This place doesn’t look like much,” he admits, shooting me a sideways glance, “but trust me, best damn bacon cheeseburger of your life.” He hops out and rounds to my side before I can unbuckle. He opens my door with exaggerated chivalry. “After you, milady.”
I snort, taking his hand, letting him help me out of the jeep. “This is the first time we’ve gone out somewhere together. I think we may have skipped a few steps.”
“Gotta admit,” he drawls, “I imagined our first date bein’ somewhere fancier than this.” He tugs me to him, his voice dropping quieter. “But I like it better this way. No pretenses, no ceremony, no expectations... Just us.”
He leads me inside, the bell chiming softly, warm lighting and the scent of sizzling beef wash over us.
He guides me to a corner booth, strategically picked so his back is to the wall, giving him a clear line of sight to the door.
When he slides in across from me, the tension in his shoulders is gone.
All that’s left is a smile as he flips open the sticky menu.
“Milkshake first,” he declares, like it’s non-negotiable. “Strawberry or chocolate? And don’t think about sayin’ vanilla, that’s not a real flavor.”
The waitress, a middle-aged woman with tired eyes and a nametag reading ‘Georgia’ approaches, setting two glasses of water on the table. “Well, hey there, Griff. Who’s this pretty lady?”
He doesn’t blink at her teasing tone, obviously used to it. “My better half,” he replies smoothly. “Who I was just tellin’ needs strawberry syrup in her veins if we’re gonna make it through this meal.”
Georgia laughs and scribbles on her notepad before shooting me a wink. “Strawberry milkshake comin’ right up then, sugar.”
“Guess that answers the strawberry or chocolate question. Could this place be a bigger cliché?” I smile, while looking thoughtfully out the window. Despite what I said, I’m enjoying myself.
“Knew you preferred strawberry.” He nudges my foot with his boot.
I’m surprised he remembered.
He leans forward, elbows resting on the table. His fingers tap absently against his glass of water before he finally speaks again. “Talk to me. What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?”
“I don’t want kids,” I blurt.
The topic can be a deal breaker for a lot of people. Ever since the pregnancy test, I’ve wondered if he wants children. It’s not that I don’t like kids, I just never saw them for myself. I’m content with my store and my simple lifestyle.
“Good.” He doesn’t hesitate. He takes a drink of water before setting the glass down with a clink.
“Never saw myself as father material anyway. My line of work doesn’t exactly foster a kid friendly environment.
” His fingers drum on the table before he meets my gaze again.
“You and me? We’re enough. More than enough, alright? ”
Relief washes over me. “Okay.” I pause. “Would you ever be open to getting a vasectomy? You know, later on when we’ve been together for a while?”
I told him I want to take things slow. I feel like it’s presumptuous of me to ask. But I’m not a fan of hormonal birth control methods and how they make me feel.
He chokes on his water, nearly spitting it out before thumping a fist against his chest with a cough. “Sunshine, I’d let you book the appointment tomorrow if you wanted.” He raises an eyebrow and grins. “Hell, I’ll let you drive me there so I can bitch about the ice pack on the way home.”
Georgia returns with two massive milkshakes, rolling her eyes at Griffin’s coughing fit. “You good over here?”
He waves her off and grabs his chocolate shake like nothing happened. “Peachy. Just discussin’ future investments.”
“He said this place has bacon cheeseburgers to die for. I’d like mine well done, please.” I smile warmly at her, while trying not to laugh at Griffin’s antics.
“One well done bacon cheeseburger for the lady.” She smiles, scribbling on her notepad with a practiced flick of her wrist. “And let me guess, you want yours still mooin’ like last time?”
He smirks and tips his milkshake at her. “You know me too well, Georgia.”
She rolls her eyes, chuckling as she tucks the notepad in her apron pocket. “Be back in twenty. Try not to scare off your date while I’m gone, Griff.”
He waits until she’s out of earshot to lean back over the table. His voice drops to a low timbre that makes my stomach flip. “So, you plannin’ to hold my hand durin’ this hypothetical vasectomy? Or just laugh at my sufferin’ from the waitin’ room?”
“If you want me to. You held my hand today so it’s only fair.” I take a sip of my milkshake and let out a small moan of approval. “Oh wow, this is really good.”
He watches me over the rim of his glass as he takes a long sip of his own. His eyes darken. “Never thought I’d be jealous of a fuckin’ milkshake.” He sets it down and takes my hand, pulling it closer. “But here I am.”
I roll my eyes and worry my lip ring between my teeth. There’s so many things we’ve never talked about. So much I don’t know about him. I’m getting first date jitters when he’s already been in my pants. I take another sip and avoid looking at him.
His hand tightens around mine. “You doin’ alright over there?” His brow furrows, maybe thinking I’m dealing with the aftershocks of the afternoon. “You don’t have to put on a brave face for me, Wildflower. You know that.”
I huff out a nervous laugh. “I’ve known you for two weeks but feel like I don’t ‘know’ you.
And you never ask personal questions so I don’t get the chance to reciprocate.
Past the fact that you’re a bounty hunter who speaks multiple languages, owns a cabin in the mountains, and can take down two grown men in the blink of an eye—I’m running blind. So no, I don’t know that.”
He holds my gaze steadily, tracing soft circles on my hand.
When I finish talking he scoffs, lets go of my hand and leans forward, bracing his forearms on the edge of the table.
“You know enough. You know that I’ve been chasin’ scumbags and catchin’ ‘em for over fourteen years. You know how I take my coffee and how I like my burgers. You know that I sleep better with you curled up against me. That I can’t get enough of that goddamn laugh, even though I barely get to hear it.
You know that I’d walk through fire for you. ”
“I didn’t know the thing about the laugh,” I say quietly, caught off guard by his confession.
I pull my hand back and put it in my lap.
“But I don’t know anything about your family, if you’ve ever been married, where you grew up, how you got that scar below your collarbone, how you met Jax and Bishop. ”
His jaw flexes briefly, letting me know his answers aren’t going to be pretty.
He sighs, choosing his words carefully. “Parents were addicts. Foster system in Texas after that. Never saw them again. Never cared to.” He rubs the outside of his milkshake glass.
“Married? No. Jax was with me back in the Marines. Only reason I got outta that life with a pulse instead of six-feet-under.” His hand drifts up to press against the scar beneath his collarbone.
“Got this one at twenty-four, chasin’ some fucker through Detroit, who thought stabbin’ me would make me let go.
” A grin cuts across his face. “It didn’t. ”
He taps the table. “Bishop found me thirteen years ago bleedin’ out in an alley after a job went sideways.
Took one look at me and said, ‘Kid, you got two choices: die stupid or live smarter.’ Guess you know which one I picked.
” Quieter now, his tone cautionary. “You want more? You ask. But fair warnin’, most of my stories aren’t gonna help you sleep at night. ”
A lifetime of darkness casts those shadows around his shoulders.
Not something bad that happened once. But one thing after another.
When Jax said he had the market cornered, he wasn’t kidding.
Something inside me aches openly for what he’s gone through.
I ask for background and end up with two instances where he was left bleeding out.
From the scars I’ve seen on his body, I know there are more.
The way he opened up and gave me a peek into his past makes me want to return the favor.
I never talk about what I’ve been through.
I don’t feel the need for the false pity and empty comfort that usually comes from sharing the darker parts of yourself.
I don’t want to offer him that. So I offer a piece of me instead.
“My parents died five years ago in a car accident. They were on their way home from a movie when a drunk driver ran them off the road. I used the insurance money to buy the building for Moonglow. It’s why my store means so much to me. It’s all I have left of them.”
“Thank you for trustin’ me with all that.” He reaches over, takes my hand and raises it to his lips. “I know it’s not easy.”
“I don’t talk about it a lot. But I can’t ask you to bare your soul without showing you a bit of mine, can I?” I sit back and sigh. I know relationships come next and I’m not proud of my choices.
He senses my hesitation and goes first. “Last serious relationship was eight years ago.” He shrugs.
“Some diplomat's daughter who thought she could ‘fix’ me. Lasted six months before she realized I wasn’t a stray puppy.” His smirk returns but this time it’s self-deprecating.
“Had my fair share of distractions since then. But nothin’ that stuck. ” He pauses. “‘Til you.”
I shake my head. “Give it time.”
I’m still not convinced this is real, even though he shows me in so many little ways.
Hell, he’s shown me in a lot of big ways, too.
But, it’s one of those things that feels too good to be true.
Where’s the other shoe? And how many times do I hurt this man’s feelings before I stop waiting for it to drop.
My skepticism isn’t lost on him and his eyes narrow. “Don’t.” His voice is firm, telling me I’m entering dangerous territory. “Don’t do that. Don’t think I’m gonna bail every time the road gets rough. Don’t think you’re not good enough for me or some bullshit like that.”
Georgia arrives with our burgers and fries and sets the plates down on the table. “Need anything else?”
“We’re alright, Georgia, thank you.” I nod and pretend I don’t feel the irritation coming from the other side of the table.
He waits for her to move out of earshot before speaking again. “Look at me.” My eyes meet his and he continues. “You matter. You understand? You’re more than enough. I don’t know how many times I gotta tell you that before you believe me.”
“I was almost married once.” It feels safer to change the subject than acknowledge what he’s saying.
I start eating to avoid the emotions he’s drawing out of me.
“He cheated on me. I didn’t know the girl, but he did get her pregnant.
Luckily, we had only set the date so I didn’t have to cancel venues or lose any deposits. I was twenty-three.”
Griffin schools his face into that familiar controlled mask of neutrality. But I can tell what I said pissed him off. “Who was it?” He tries to sound nonchalant. “Just so I can find the asshole and punch him in the dick.”
I let out a surprised laugh. “That was twelve years ago, Griffin. I’m sure life has already punched him in the dick a few times by now.” I shake my head and continue eating.
“Anyway, five years later after a ton of failed dates and no one really hanging around for more than a few weeks, I met a guy. He looked amazing on paper. He was charismatic, had a good job, owned his own home, but he wore two faces. The one he showed the world and the one he saved for me when we were alone. The one he saved for me eventually put me in the hospital with a broken arm and a busted jaw. My parents decided that was enough. I moved in with them after that. It was two years before their accident.”
Griffin’s grip on his fork tightens with enough force to bend the metal.
He sets it down and takes a deep breath, the rage in him barely contained.
“You tell me who that bastard was.” His voice drops lethally quiet.
“And I’ll make sure he never breathes easy again.
” He gets it back under control and straightens up in his seat.
“But you’re right about one thing. Life did punch the first guy in the dick. ‘Cause I’m here now.”
This line of conversation could end up with someone hurt, so I change the subject. “So will you be going back to the cabin tonight?” He agreed we’d take it slow. Regardless, I really want him to say no. I like sleeping next to him way more than I should.
“Only if you’re kickin’ me out,” he drawls.
“Otherwise, figured I’d stick around. Make sure the new security system works.
Test out those fancy deadbolts.” He leans in.
“Maybe, see if your bed’s as comfortable as mine.
” Then he pops a fry in his mouth with a shrug like he didn’t set my entire nervous system on fire.
I almost choke on my burger. The idea of him in my bed makes my body respond and my face flush. “Stay as long as you want,” I breathe out.
He arches a brow at my reaction and smirks when he figures out what caused it. He leans back, arm slung over the back of his booth. “Good to know,” he responds smugly and takes another bite of his burger.