Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 158872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 530(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 530(@300wpm)
He lifts an eyebrow.
“You.” My cheeks burn. “To see you working out. Not my brother.”
He chuckles softly. “I don’t mind hearing it.”
What Brantley lacks in customer service skills he makes up for with quick, efficient meal prep. Griff and I have our orders a few minutes later.
We take a table by the window where he can keep an eye on his bike parked at the curb. Underneath the table, our knees touch. This almost feels like a date. We’re alone together. Out in public. My heart beats a relentless happy rhythm.
“Hey, Griff.” A silky-smooth woman’s voice interrupts us.
I glance over at the blonde standing way too close to our table, wearing a cropped tank top, leggings so tight and thin they barely qualify as clothing, and flip-flops.
Mounds of dirty, hard-packed snow still line the sidewalks but she’s wearing flip-flops. I side-eye Griff. Is this the type of woman he’s usually interested in? Ones who don’t know how to dress properly for early spring weather in upstate New York?
“Heather,” Griff says hesitantly, as if he’s praying that’s her name. “How are you?”
“Good.” She beams and thrusts her generous chest forward. “You?” Her gaze strays to me like she’s waiting for an introduction.
Is Griff really going to pretend I’m not even here?
Fine. I’ll introduce myself. I raise one hand and wiggle my fingers. “Hi.” Damn. Why does my voice have to squeak like a little kid’s? I sweep my hair off my shoulder and sit up straighter.
“Uh, this is my friend Molly,” Griff says. “Remy’s sister. Have you guys met?”
“No.” She beams at me. “Gosh, you look so much like your brother.” Her smile falters as if she’s worried that’s an insult. “But much, much prettier.”
My nervousness breaks and my lips curve up. “Thanks,” I answer, sounding less like a Smurf this time.
Her attention returns to Griff. “Well, I saw you and wanted to say hi. Are you looking for anyone to”—she casts a nervous glance around the immediate area— “work the ring this weekend?”
“We can always use extra bodies.” Griff’s jaw tightens and he glances at me before returning his attention to Heather. “You’ve got my number, right? Text me and I’ll let you know.”
I swear, she bounces up on her tiptoes. “Thank you. I’ll see you then.” She touches my shoulder. “Maybe I’ll see you too.”
“Maybe.” I force what I hope looks like a friendly smile.
She spins around and flip-flops away. The noisy thwacking of her sandals sort of kills the sexy sway of her hips. If I tried walking like that, in those shoes, I’d trip and land on my face.
Griff acts like she was never there and focuses all of his attention on me. To keep myself from saying something childish, I stuff down my jealousy with a big bite of turkey and bagel.
“Sorry about that,” Griff says. “She’s not—”
“Dnrf,” I mumble around my mouthful of food, then raise my hand to stop him from whatever explanations he’s about to give.
He glances over his shoulder and leans closer. “She’s not an ex or anything, Molly. Just a girl who helps us at The Castle on fight nights.”
I shrug, as if I don’t care, although the wad of turkey and bagel I’m trying to choke down says otherwise. “You don’t have to explain to me.”
He reaches over and rests his hand on my wrist. “Yeah, I do. I want you to trust me.”
I swallow and take a quick sip of my iced green tea. “I do.”
“I want you…” His hands ball into fists. “I haven’t... I don’t…” He sighs. “You’re my girl. No one else.”
What is he trying to tell me? “But you keep saying you can’t date me,” I challenge.
His jaw tightens but a hint of a smile ripples over his lips. “That doesn’t mean I want to date anyone else.”
I rest my hand on my hip. “Just how long have you had this moratorium on dating?”
“Moratorium?” He chuckles.
“A temporary pro—”
“I know what it means.” He rolls his eyes and glances toward the front of the coffee shop. “They still have the picnic area at Miller’s?”
“Yeah,” I answer slowly. I wasn’t done talking about us but maybe I need to drop it and enjoy the time we have together. “When it’s warm enough, we take our dinner breaks out there.”
“Good.” He nods to my food. “Wrap that up. We’ll finish there. I don’t want you to be late for work.”
I take another vicious bite of the bagel, then slowly wrap the rest of my sandwich and shove it in the brown paper bag. “What’s the real reason?”
He reaches over, grabs the bag and my drink, then stands. I follow his lead, standing and pushing in my chair.
“We don’t have much time together.” He flashes a quick, warm smile. “I don’t want anyone else stopping by and stealing my Molly minutes.”