Nine

Griffin

When I woke up, she was gone.

For a moment, I’d forgotten she was ever there, but one deep breath and I could still smell her shampoo or soap or whatever that sweet, mouth-watering scent was clinging to the sheets.

Shamelessly I buried my face in her pillow and allowed myself one more long, slow inhale. Fucking delicious. Then I lay back for a minute, hands behind my head, contemplating everything that had happened.

I’d definitely broken some rules.

And, if memory served, I’d asked Blair for a repeat performance.

How worried did I need to be that any of those broken rules would come back to haunt me? Despite the fact that we’d spent the last thirty-six hours together, how well did I really know her? How well could you know anyone after only a day and a half, even if you’d spent some of those hours naked?

But damn, those hours had been good. Better than good. Fucking incredible. She’d surprised me, and very few people did. On the outside, she was all sweetness and light. Politeness and polish. But get her alone in the dark and she was eager and aggressive, loud and feisty. And if I occasionally got annoyed with how much she could talk during the day, I fucking loved it in bed.

I’d stayed fairly quiet, even though filthy things had been on the tip of my tongue the entire time. I still wasn’t sure how dirty or rough she liked it, so I’d pretty much let her set the tone and followed her lead.

Maybe tonight I’d push the boundaries a little farther.

My dick, already growing hard from the scent of her lingering on the bedding, shot to full mast. Groaning, I flipped the sheets aside and got out of bed.

Work before play—that was a rule I could not afford to break.

“What’s this?” I found her in the kitchen hunting through the upper cupboards, wearing her Snoopy T-shirt and purple panties. I could tell they were purple because every time she reached up and opened another door, they peeked out from beneath the hem of the shirt.

“I’m checking for baking supplies.”

“Pretty sure I have none.”

“Is there a market open early? I’d love to make something to serve in the lobby today.”

“There’s one on Maple that opens early, I think.”

“I also made coffee—hope that’s okay. And I fed the cat. I think she likes the sun coming in over by the front windows. She’s curled up over there on the floor.” Blair set a mixing bowl I didn’t even realize I owned on the counter before turning to face me. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” I smiled. She chirped like a robin even at six a.m., but I liked the way she looked, barefoot and messy-haired. “I’m not used to seeing someone else in my kitchen.”

She looked a little guilty. “I’m an early bird. And I like to get to work.”

“It’s fine. I do too.”

She picked up her coffee and took a sip. “You’re dressed already.”

“Yeah. I have to knock off early on Thursdays because it’s game night, so I go in early too.”

“Game night for your baseball team?” She leaned back against the counter.

“Yeah.”

“Can I come watch?”

“Uh, sure. Game’s at seven.” It was hard not to stare at her bare legs and recall the way she’d straddled me last night. Already I felt another erection coming on. It hadn’t been easy to get rid of the first one five minutes ago, so I figured I’d better get out of here fast. “I should go.”

“Don’t you want coffee?”

“I’ll make some downstairs.”

“You’re out down there, remember?”

“Oh yeah.” I frowned. “Maybe you could order some today? My mother always kept us supplied, but I’m not sure where she got it.”

“I’ll take care of it. In the meantime, I’ll pick some up from the market this morning.”

“Thanks. Save the receipt and I’ll pay you back.”

She lifted her shoulders. “I’m not worried.”

“Okay.” I hesitated, not sure what I was supposed to do here. Did I kiss her goodbye? Toss her a wave as I headed for the stairs? Thank her for last night? Usually I made this kind of post-sex exit under the cover of darkness. This felt really different.

While I stood there debating, Blair set her mug down and walked over to me, brushed some dust off the shoulders of my navy work shirt, and fussed with one of the buttons. “Have a good day at the office, dear.” Then she kissed my cheek and leaned back. “Is that what you were waiting for?”

I scowled at her, grumbling under my breath and I turned and took the stairs down. I could still hear her laughing as I went out the door.

I spent a blissful two and a half hours by myself, save for the two minutes Blair came down with a cup of coffee for me and asked for directions to the Maple Street Market, which she’d verified opened at eight.

“So when I walk out of here, I’d go left on Main, right on Maple, and then down a few blocks?” she asked, staring at the map on her phone.

“Right.”

She looked up and squared her shoulders. “Cross your fingers for me. With any luck, I’ll be at the desk with fresh coffee and scones by ten a.m. If not, come looking for me. I took a wrong turn.”

“Will do.” I watched her walk out as I took a sip of the hot black coffee she’d brought me. She wore another short dress today, this one was light blue with white flowers on it. It had some kind of little bow thing that tied at her chest, and while she’d been standing here, part of me had been tempted to take one end between my teeth and undo it. Shaking my head, I set the coffee cup down next to the computer and got back to work.

That girl could distract me like nobody’s business—which is why I stayed in the service bay where I belonged even after she poked her head in and let me know she was at the desk with fresh coffee and homemade scones.

McIntyre came in shortly afterward, his expression sulky and his mood sour.

“Emily still mad about the shower thing?” I asked.

“Nope, something totally different. You might be right about this forever thing,” he groused. “Is it too late to back out?”

I laughed, saying no more as I continued working on an older Honda whose owner had let her idiot boyfriend swap the original four-cylinder engine for a V6. He’d asked my advice on it while the car was in for a turn signal problem—he was the kind of asshole who wanted to stand there and watch me work, because he knew everything about cars—and I’d told him it could be done, technically, but should not be done by anyone who wasn’t a certified mechanic because it would require so many modifications.

But did he do it anyway? Of course he did.

And now it was on me to try to clean up the fucking mess he’d made. It was a tedious, expensive job, the kind of thing that normally would put me in a pissy mood. But today, my mood was just fine.

“Are you whistling?” McIntyre asked around noon.

“What? No.”

“Yes, you were. I heard it. What happened, you get laid or something?”