Seriphina Joseph #3
“Figures. He always did have questionable taste in movies.” He shakes his head and follows me down the stairs.
When we get to the jeep he opens the door for me, helping me up, before reaching across to fasten my seatbelt then shut my door. He jogs around the front before climbing in and starting it. Putting it in gear, he glances over at me.
“You know, I think Jax is convinced your store is a satanic front for a sex dungeon.”
“He does not! He installed the security. He would have found a sex dungeon.” I slap his arm playfully, his teasing helping me to relax. “Honestly, that sounds more like wishful thinking coming from him.”
He laughs, the kind that lights up his eyes.
He rubs the spot where I slapped him. “Oh, he absolutely does. The man won’t shut up about your ‘candles made of virgin tears’ or whatever the hell he thinks witches use.
” He seems to think about it for a moment.
“Which, for the record, please don’t tell me if that’s actually a thing.
” The jeep rumbles as he pulls out onto the road.
His free hand finds mine on my thigh, calloused fingers threading through mine like they belong there.
I shrug and look out the window. “Guess that depends on what you practice. I don’t carry anything like that but I’m sure I could find it if I needed to.”
His grip tightens fractionally for a moment, stealing a sideways glance at me before focusing back on the road.
“You’re screwin’ with me, right? You’re not actually out there summonin’ demons into mugs and crap are you?
” He pauses as he takes in my glare. “Oh for the love of... Don’t give me that look.
I have a right to be skeptical of a woman who keeps a stock of ‘hex the patriarchy’ candles on hand at all times. ”
“Those are just scented candles and they sell really well.” I roll my eyes at him, refusing to entertain the idea that I’m summoning demons.
I carry all the things necessary to practice, but rarely ever do so myself.
I don’t like making claims about who I am.
Some may call me a witch but I just have beliefs that happen to follow the same lines as the things I sell.
He snorts, shaking his head while his thumb absently brushes over the back of my hand. “Sure, as innocent as those dried herbs you’ve got in those apothecary jars with the fancy labels. And the crystals and the moon water and all the rest of that woo-woo stuff.”
“Woo-woo stuff? Okay, Gryffindor. Keep it up and I’ll never tell you about sex-powered ritual spells.” I pull my hand out of his and cross my arms over my chest looking out the window in feigned irritation.
He barks out a laugh, loud and utterly delighted.
He reaches over and grabs my knee, giving it a rough shake.
“Oh, now we’re talkin’.” Realizing I’m not joking, he glances at me sideways.
“Wait, was that an actual offer? Because I’ve got questions.
Startin’ with when?” His voice turns playful as his fingers trail up my inner thigh.
“Never, if you keep being an ass about it,” I quip.
We pull into the parking lot. Jax and Bishop stand by the entrance to the restaurant, which is actually more of a bar.
He shuts off the engine and unfastens his seatbelt before catching my chin between his fingers, forcing me to look at him. “Fine. But know I will be conductin’ my own research later.” He pulls me in for a quick kiss, nipping at my bottom lip before getting out of the jeep.
We walk up to Bishop and Jax. He wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his side.
“Damn, Colson. She’s way too pretty for your ugly ass.” Bishop whistles. He’s an older man with salt-and-pepper hair and sharp hazel eyes that miss nothing. He crosses his arms over his chest, looking amused.
“She’s also smarter,” Jax adds dryly.
Griffin flips them both off.
“Jax, been awhile. Still pissy your hookups prefer their book boyfriends?” I tease him while moving in for a hug.
“First of all,” he scoffs, “ouch. Secondly, no one chooses fictional men over this.” He gestures to himself dramatically before grinning. “Unless we’re talking about that series where the guy has wings. Then, yeah fair.”
Bishop snorts and offers his hand in a gesture that is respectful and assessing. “Seriphina, right? Griffin hasn’t shut up about you since he dragged your ass into his safehouse.”
“Oh? And he had me convinced he barely talks about me at all.” I offer my hand, giving him my brightest smile.
“He doesn’t. Not willingly.” He jerks a thumb towards Jax. “But this one hacks into his texts like it’s his fucking hobby.”
The sound that comes from Griffin is halfway between exasperation and resignation. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Remind me again why I keep either of you around?”
Jax throws an arm over Griffin’s shoulders. “Because deep down in that blackened little heart of yours; you love us.”
Griffin shoves him off before nodding toward the restaurant. “Let’s get this shitshow over with so I can drink somethin’ strong enough to make me forget I ever heard that word come outta you.”
He holds the door open for me as we file in.
The bar’s crowded for a Thursday night. But our table sits in the far corner and it’s away from the other patrons.
A circular booth with plush, oversized leather seats.
Griffin slides in next to me, thigh pressed against mine under the table, grounding me.
Jax flags down the waitress, a blonde woman in her early twenties who eyes our group with a mix of curiosity and interest. He flashes her a charming grin. “Whiskey. The good shit, not whatever you water down.”
Griffin rolls his eyes and leans forward, elbows braced on the table as he turns to Bishop. “So, you got anything useful on Sokolov’s new location or did you just come here to embarrass me?”
“Both.” His gaze flickers to me then back to Griffin. “And to meet this pretty lady. See what the fuss was about.”
Griffin gives him an impatient look but doesn’t push, instead he turns to me. “You hungry? They have great food here.”
“Great food?” Jax scoffs. “He eats here twice a week.”
“It’s better than that crap you get from that taco truck you’re addicted to.” Griffin glares at him.
Jax opens his mouth to argue but Bishop cuts in smoothly. “Order everything, I’ll pay.”
Griffin gives him a look but doesn’t argue, leaning back in the seat. His hand finds my thigh under the table.
“I could eat.” I answer him. I watch the comradery, observing how comfortable Griffin is with them. They fit together.
His fingers give my thigh a subtle squeeze before he flags down the waitress again and orders half the menu without looking at the prices. Steak, scallops, truffle fries, and some fancy salad that makes Jax gag just hearing about it.
Bishop watches Griffin with an amused smirk before turning to me. “So, he tell you yet how he came up with your nickname?”
Griffin chokes on his water. “Bishop.” The warning in his tone is unmistakable.
Jax perks up. “Can’t wait to hear this one.”
“What?” My brow furrows and I look at Griffin. “Which one? Sunshine or Wildflower? I assumed it was because my clothes are bright colors.”
“Oh, this is priceless.” Jax leans in, relishing in Griffin’s suffering. “Sunshine is pretty self-explanatory. But Wildflower? That one has a story behind it.”
“Wait? How is Sunshine self-explanatory?” I frown, not understanding.
“Because no matter how shitty the day is,” he says as his thumb brushes over my knuckles, “you’re the first goddamn thing that makes it brighter.”
Jax fake gags, Bishop chuckles into his whiskey. I don’t know what to do with that. I suck at taking compliments, usually opting to pretend they didn’t happen. Which is better than the alternative, straddling him at the table. This kind of sweet has me rubbing my thighs together.
I clear my throat before asking, “And Wildflower?”
“Oh, that one’s even better.” Jax wiggles his eyebrows. “See, Grumpy over here had this whole speech about how you were ‘soft in all the right places but somehow sharp enough to cut him—”
Griffin smacks him upside the head before he can finish. Jax laughs as Griffin growls under his breath. “Christ, do I need to muzzle you?”
Bishop shakes his head and takes another drink of whiskey before he finishes the explanation for Jax. “Meaning you grew on him like something stubborn and impossible to kill. Which is high praise coming from him, believe me.”
Griffin lets out an exasperated sigh before leaning in close to my ear. “You grew where you weren’t meant to and you did it beautifully, like a wildflower.”
I freeze and my breath catches. His words make the desire to drag him off to the bathroom and jump his bones harder to fight. I opt to change the subject into safer territory for me and for Jax. “Do you guys use call names? I’ve heard they usually have a story attached to them.”
Jax sits up at that, looking like an eager dog wanting to play fetch. “Oh, we do. You gotta hear Bishop’s story. It’s gold.”
“Jax.” Griffin growls in warning.
Jax ignores him, turning in his seat to grin at Bishop. “Come on, man. Can I tell it?”
“I know I’m going to regret this,” Bishop sighs, looking like a parent who can’t say no. “Go ahead.”
Jax rubs his hands together with a dramatic flourish as the waitress sets down plates of seared steak, scallops glistening with butter, and truffle fries that smell like heaven. He waits until she’s gone before leaning in.
“Okay, so, Bishop’s call sign? Reaper. Sounds badass, right?
Totally earned.” He pauses for effect, grinning when Bishop rolls his eyes.
“Because once, on a job in Caracas, this dumbass Italian arms dealer locked himself in a panic room thinking he was safe. Three hours later?” He pretends to check his watch.
“Dude walks out screaming about how the AC vents were playing funeral dirges on loop while Bishop sat outside drinking coffee.”
Griffin snorts into his whiskey, but doesn’t deny it.