Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
“She’s wrong.”
“What if she isn’t?” I fretted, knitting my fingers together, feeling my heart begin to race. “What if she knows more because she’s older and wiser and raised me to be this one specific way in a specific type of environment where everything is handed to me, and all these setbacks I’m facing are just the tip of the massive iceberg lurking beneath the surface and I’m doomed to fail?”
“Hey.” He reached over and took one of my hands. “She’s wrong, okay? Stop talking and take a breath.”
Closing my eyes, I inhaled and exhaled slowly a couple times. When I looked at him again, I felt silly. “Thanks. Sorry for the panic attack—that conversation was supposed to be about you.”
“It’s okay. I don’t really want to talk about myself anyway.” He squeezed my hand. “Now listen. I only just met you last night, but I can already tell you are not the kind of person to turn around and run scared when you face a problem. Maybe you’re a little bit, uh . . .”
“Careful,” I warned.
“ . . . inexperienced in the real world,” he finished, in what I considered a triumph, “but you’ll learn fast. You’re smart, you’re determined, and you can talk to anyone—in two languages, no less.”
“Three, actually.”
“Three?”
“I speak Latin too.”
“Latin?”
“It’s the universal language of western civilization,” I said defensively. “Although not terribly useful in modern life, I admit.”
Griffin shook his head and gave me a disarming smile. “You’re going to be okay, Blair.”
“You really think so?”
“Yes.” He looked down at the inside of my forearm, which bore a couple faint brown scars. “Jesus Christ. What happened?”
“Oven rack burns. Professional hazard.”
“Oh.” He brushed his fingertips across them, which I thought was sweet, then let go of my hand. “You good now? You’re not going to faint or anything?”
I laughed. “No. I’m good.”
“Okay, then let’s take this cat home and go get some food.”
“But what about finding a place for me to stay? I feel like an orphan right now. And I’m not as cute as a rescue cat.”
“Food first, or I won’t even be able to think.” He shook his head, and pulled away from the curb. “My mom’s right about one thing—I get hangry as fuck.”
After we’d been on the road for a few minutes, I looked over at him. “So what did your sister mean about breaking your number one rule for me?”
“Nothing.”
“Oh, come on.” I reached over and poked his shoulder. “What’s your number one rule?”
He exhaled. “No sleepovers. I don’t bring women back to my apartment.”
“Ah.”
“Not that last night was a sleepover in that way,” he said quickly. “So I didn’t really break the rule.”
“Definitely not,” I said.
But I turned my face toward the window and smiled.
Seven
Griffin
I carried the kitten’s crate up the stairs, and Blair followed behind, toting the bags Cheyenne had given me with food and supplies.
“My sister said to keep her confined in one room to start, so I guess I’ll put her in the bedroom,” I said.
Blair set the bags on the kitchen counter. “How cute. You can cuddle with her at night.”
I glared at her over my shoulder.
“Let me guess—mechanics don’t cuddle,” she said, trailing me into my room.
“This one doesn’t.” I set the crate down in one corner and opened it up, but the kitten didn’t come out.
“So is it a boy or a girl?” Blair asked.
“Girl. Her name is Bisou.”
“Bisou?” She laughed and wandered over to where I stood. “That’s adorable.”
“It is?”
She turned to face me. “Yes, it’s French. It means kiss.”
Again, I found myself staring at her lips. Dying to taste them. Should I just fucking do it?
In the end, she saved me by dropping down and patting the floor, trying to coax the cat out of hiding. “Viens ici, ma petite Bisou,” she crooned. “Ma choupinette. N’aie pas peur.”
Suddenly I thought of those old scenes in the Addams Family when Gomez would lose his mind when Morticia spoke French. If I never got it watching reruns as a kid, I got it now. It didn’t even matter I had no clue what she was saying. Just the words on her lips were sexy.
Blair sighed and sat back on her heels, looking up at me, her lips in a pout. “She won’t come out.”
Christ, she was adorable. And why was it so hot in here? “Maybe she just needs to get acclimated. Ready to go? I could use a cold beer.”
“Sure.” She took the hand I offered and rose to her feet. “Thanks. Have I told you yet how nice your manners are?”
“I don’t think so.” I dropped her hand before I started kissing my way up her arm, Gomez-style.
“Well, they are. I feel like all the guys I’ve met in the last few years are Neanderthals with expensive shoes.” She shrugged. “Or maybe I just attract the jerks who think having money is the same thing as having class.”