“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.”

“I don’t have much of either.”

Blair laughed. “Doesn’t matter. I’d rather be with you than any one of them tonight. Hey, listen. Do you mind if I use your bathroom real quick to freshen up before we leave?”

“No, go ahead. I’ll wait outside.” As I left the room, I glanced at the ball gown hanging on the back of my closet door.

“Want me to put my wedding dress back on?” she teased. “Seems like it was a big hit around here.”

I looked back at her menacingly. “Don’t you dare.”

“I love it when you go all mean boss on me.” Her grin was full of mischief, daring me to come at her and throw her down on that bed like I wanted to.

I left the room before I said—or did—something I’d regret.

Outside, I called my mother.

“Hello?”

“It’s me. Did you think of anyone who might have a spare room to rent?”

“Not yet. But I’m thinking very hard. In the meantime, though, I think she should probably just stay with you a little longer.”

“Stop trying to play matchmaker, Mom. It never works.”

“Because you’re so stubborn,” she chided. “You don’t even try with the women I introduce you to, and I’ve set you up with some perfectly lovely girls!”

“Name one.”

“What about that nurse from Urgent Care? She was darling.”

“She spent the entire dinner crying over her ex-husband. No, thanks.”

“What about the new bank teller at the credit union? She was definitely single.”

“She didn’t like baseball. That was DOA.”

“Well, how about the lawyer I met at the gardening center? She seemed outdoorsy.”

“She likes women, Mom. Which she said she told you right away when you mentioned setting her up with your son.”

“Well, sometimes people are just confused, or in denial.”

“In this case, that person is definitely you.”

“Don’t change the subject! We were talking about Blair. If you’d just try to get to know her, I think you two could be good for each other.”