Seriphina Joseph #2
“Course I have.” He smirks. “And yet, you’ve been servicin’ me just fine.
” He pushes off the wall and strides forward, ignoring the looks from the fawning women around him.
He stops in front of me, pulling me closer with a hand to my hip.
He leans down to press a chaste, for him, kiss to my lips before standing upright and nodding to our audience. “Ladies.”
Esther blushes, Helen stops breathing, Katherine looks away quickly, Darla lets out an uncharacteristic giggle, and Marci has the audacity to fucking wink at him.
I groan, my face warm. “I made coffee, upstairs. It should still be hot.” I nod toward the stairs, my implications clear.
Katherine wheezes out, “Well, he certainly doesn’t look like the lumberjack Marci described.” Her face turns a brighter pink when Griffin raises an eyebrow at her.
He chuckles and shakes his head, sauntering up the stairs without an ounce of shame.
Helen grabs my arm the second he is out of earshot, whisper-yelling, “Seriphina Joseph! You did not just send him away!”
Darla slaps both hands on the coffee table in front of her. “I need a name! I need details! I need to know who his daddy is!”
“You have been holding out on us,” Esther says while fanning herself. “How long has that been staying in your loft? And more importantly, why didn’t you tell us?”
Katherine, with her eyes glued to the stairs where he disappeared, chimes in, “He is really, really hot.” She takes in a shuddering breath, on the verge of swooning. “If I was twenty years younger, I’d climb that tree in a heartbeat.”
Darla is giving me the side eye like I’m hiding national secrets.
Marci shrugs at Katherine. “You could be like Helen and go for it anyway.”
“Oh, don’t you even start,” Helen splutters indignantly. “You’re all just jealous.”
Darla sighs, waving Helen off. They’ve had that conversation a million times before. “Okay, okay, enough distractions.” She levels me with a smile, fingers tapping together like a super villain. “Now back to the matter at hand. You and your mystery man.”
I move back to the counter, not wanting to sit through this forced debriefing. “I don’t know ladies, I’ve got a lot of work to do. Everything piled up while I was away and—”
Darla grabs my wrist mid-retreat. She’s surprisingly strong for someone who bedazzles her compression socks.
“Oh no you don’t.” She tugs me right back into the center of the group.
“Two weeks ago you disappeared. Now, you’re back bruised, glowing, and there’s a man who looks like that sneaking around in your loft?
Sweetheart, we are not leaving here until we get answers. ”
“It’s complicated,” I choke out.
Somehow that word makes them more ravenous for information.
“Complicated?” Helen asks.
“Complicated how?” Darla continues, “Complicated as in hot and heavy, or complicated as in he’s married?”
The others look on in feral interest.
“Complicated as in I don’t know exactly what we are yet. We’re taking it... slow.” I sigh and sit back down.
“Taking it slow?” Darla scoffs, sipping her tea like she can read my thoughts. “Honey, that man was looking at you like a starving wolf who just found his favorite steak.”
“I don’t think ‘taking it slow’ and ‘sleeping shirtless in your loft’ are compatible concepts, Seriph.” Marci contributes from her corner, the pragmatic one of the group.
Helen sighs dreamily from her chair.
“I asked to take it slow emotionally, not physically.” I offer.
Esther leans forward, eyes wide. “So let me get this straight, you and him are having fun while you figure it out?”
“Oh my God,” Katherine breathes out next to her.
“Basically?” I confirm.
Their reactions make me doubt that I know what I’m doing. He doesn’t want casual with me. He’s intense and intriguing and fucking irresistible. What were my reasons for taking it slow again?
Griffin struts down the stairs in his everyday clothes, holding a travel mug of coffee.
He looks sinful in his tight black T-shirt and cargo pants with both his gun and his knife holstered to his side.
He drops into the empty spot next to me on the couch, throwing his arm behind me and manspreading like he belongs there. He tips his head lazily.
Helen leans over to whisper to Katherine, “Dear lord, he smells good.”
Griffin leans back with a devilish smile, amused that he’s the morning entertainment. After cheerful introductions, they start firing off questions in rapid succession like they are hosting a quiz show.
“So, what are your intentions with our Seriph?” Darla starts, motherly.
“Are you from around here?” Katherine adds.
“What do you do for work?” Esther says without waiting for him to answer.
He pulls me into his side and takes a sip of his coffee, not the least bit fazed by their interrogation. For a guy who woke up and walked directly into a group of gossip hungry menopausal women, he looks surprisingly comfortable. “I hunt for a livin’.”
“Like in the woods? With a bow and arrow and a loincloth?” Darla says hopefully.
I choke on my tea at the mental image of Griffin in a loincloth, while he thumps me on the back. The rest of the women are all doing various forms of fanning themselves, licking their lips, and undressing him with their eyes.
“Not exactly.” He takes a slow sip of his coffee, deliberately dragging it out before he answers. “I’m a bounty hunter.”
Dead silence.
“A what?” Helen’s teacup clatters on its saucer, mouth gaping.
“Oh my God, Seriphina Joseph. You have a bounty hunter in your loft.” Darla clutches Katherine’s arm practically vibrating with excitement.
Marci leans forward, setting her tea down like the situation finally got interesting.
Esther recovers and points a finger at him. “That explains the muscles, and the gun.” She turns to me with a knowing look. “And the bruises.”
I tense hard enough for Griffin to notice.
I knew I should have worn long sleeves. I keep my eyes on the floor, struggling to find a logical explanation.
One that doesn't have anything to do with sex or assault.
Before anything logical occurs to me, my brain shifts and shoves me right into the alley.
Griffin’s grip on his coffee cup tightens, his expression carefully blank, storm-gray eyes flicker between me and Esther. He leans forward, palm resting on my thigh, squeezing gently to ground me in reality.
“Esther.” He commands with a quiet authority that makes the entire group go still. “She got those bruises fightin’ off a man twice her size when he tried to steal from her shop.” He lets that sink in. “And trust me when I say he left lookin’ worse.”
Darla gasps, Katherine reaches across to squeeze my hand, and Marci narrows her eyes at him like she can see everything he doesn’t say.
I word a silent ‘thank you.’ He squeezes my thigh again. And for a moment, the rest of it falls away and I’m able to breathe.
Darla shifts into mother hen mode. “Oh sweetie! Why didn’t you say something?” Her outrage is real and protective, making me feel cared for in a way I’ve been missing since my parents died. She points a finger at Griffin. “And I suppose you stepped in?”
Marci watches him with narrowed eyes.
“Not exactly.” He shrugs. “She was dealin’ with him fine on her own. I just finished it for her.”
Darla looks torn between admiration and horror, while the rest of the group looks awed. Griffin sips his coffee, while Marci’s expression shifts from mildly curious to outright assessing.
“He was passing by when it happened. And he gave me a place to stay at his cabin in the mountains for a couple weeks, to relax for a bit.” I carry on the lie but my voice trembles. Which probably only sells it more to the concerned group of women surrounding us.
“Figured she needed somewhere quiet to recover after that mess.” His thumb rubs my upper arm, holding Marci’s gaze as if daring her to press for details. Thankfully, she doesn’t.
Darla, acting leader of the group, makes a soft sound of sympathy before reaching across and squeezing my hand. “Oh honey, we had no idea. You should have called one of us.”
“By the time I thought about it, we were already settled in and distracted.” I lie again. “I was okay, really.” Next time I go off grid, I should really leave a note.
“Oh yes, I can imagine how distracted you were.” She glances back and forth between the two of us, grinning. “My oh my, Seriphina Joseph. I knew you had it in you.”
Griffin snorts into his coffee. For a guy who carries his shadows like an impenetrable cape, he’s weirdly right at home in the middle of the Biddies Gossip Club and their shenanigans.
Although everyone seems to accept his explanation, Marci is watching him carefully, not buying the whole heroic bystander line.
He clears his throat, tilting his head toward me. “Alright, alright. Enough interrogatin’.” He stands up, holding his hand out to me. “Sunshine, didn’t you say somethin’ about overdue work?”
The ladies pout while I take his hand and let him pull me up off the couch. They whisper to each other as he follows me over to the counter by the cash register.
“I need grandkids like that, yesterday!”
“I’m not having kids! I already told you that, Helen.” I fire over my shoulder, greeting a customer with a smile and a nod.
Helen throws her hands up, muttering something about ‘wasted genetics’ while the rest of the ladies laugh.
The conversation shifts from me and Griffin, to their usual chatter about the goings on around town.
Darla shakes her head watching us fondly like she’s already planning out our wedding before turning back to the group.
“You good?” He leans in, resting his hand on mine.
I lace my fingers through his. “Thank you, I didn’t know what to tell them. Our ‘how did you meet?’ story gets pretty dark.”
“Don’t mention it.” He presses a kiss to my palm.
“You going out to look for Sokolov today?” I let go of his hand and shuffle papers and invoices around.