She could hear him moving around his apartment as he spoke, like he was eager to walk out the door.
She checked the map. “It’s a three-minute drive from where I’m parked, so I guess I’ll beat you there. You’re sure it’s okay for Spencer to go in there? Do I need to wait for you to show up?”
Griffin laughed. “Trust me, they’re going to roll out the red carpet when they see him. Just grab a table and enjoy the free round.”
* * *
• • •
“Oh my fuggin’ gawd, it’s Leo!” the bartender shouted when Justine and Spencer walked in the door at the Yard Bar. “Griffin told me someone found him!”
The half-dozen people in the bar turned to look at Justine as they walked in the door, and she saw a few smiles of recognition. Spencer bounced on his front paws excitedly while Justine gripped the leash. “Hi, yeah. I’m Justine and he’s called Spencer now.”
She realized too late that inviting her to his local bar was another bit of psychological warfare. She’d have to spend the meal explaining why Leo had a new name and why it was going to stay that way. She thought about making a quick exit, but she didn’t want Griffin to think he intimidated her.
Plus, she needed his damn apartment.
The white-haired bartender came out from behind the bar wiping his hands on his apron. His hunched posture made him look ancient, but his long hipster goatee and suspenders helped him fit right in with the too-cool crowd, like he was their porkpie-hat-wearing grandpa who was a bouncer at CBGB back in the day.
“Hey, doggy boy! Hi there, Leo!” The man surrendered to Spencer’s kiss attack with laughs and hugs. “Welcome home.”
It was a charming reunion, and as hard as it was imagining Leo happily living his old life, she could appreciate the fact that everyone loved him.
“Anthony, didja see?” the old man called to a bald man seated in the back corner of the small bar. “It’s Leo!”
“No way! Welcome back, dog breath!” The guy gave Justine a quick elevator-eyes glance. “You Griff’s girlfriend?”
“No!” she shouted. “Just a friend. Long story.” She waved her hand to imply he wouldn’t want to hear it.
“I’m Wendall,” the bartender said. “Is Griff coming to meet you?”
“He is. He told me to get a table.”
“The one up front is his favorite, right by the window. I’m going to bring you a drink on the house since you saved Leo. What are you having?”
“Surprise me. Whatever you like on tap.”
“All righty, one Mastiff Milk Stout from Lost Dog, coming your way. Griffin’s favorite. And a bowl of water for the good boy.”
Justine shrugged off her coat and blazer and settled into a chair at the table by the huge front window. Somehow it made sense that Griffin’s local was an unpretentious, dimly lit, brick-walled space with a ceiling-high wall of liquors behind the bar. She couldn’t tell if it was a new bar made to look old, or if it had been in the neighborhood for sixty years.
Spencer camped out at her feet, panting happily and watching everyone around them, seeming perfectly at home. Exactly fifteen minutes later, Griffin walked in, bringing a blast of cold air and a round of hellos with him.
“Hey there, you,” he said, smiling his giant dimple-cheeked smile at Spencer, who leapt up to greet him. “Looking good, buddy! No gum’s gonna get you down, right?” He wrapped his arms around Spencer as the dog jumped up to hug him, causing Justine to squirm in her seat. It had taken her months to teach him not to jump up on people.
“Hey, you order food yet?” He unwound his scarf and pulled off his leather moto jacket. She scanned him quickly and was disappointed to realize that even in a basic T-shirt and jeans he looked amazing.
She shook her head. “I was just making my choice, but I’m open to your suggestions. Popcorn shrimp, perhaps?”
“Oh, no debate,” he replied, waving at Wendall behind the bar and making the universal “bring me a pint” gesture. “Onion rings to start; they’re as big as your fist. Then cheddar and Gruyère béchamel mac and cheese.”
“That sounds amazing. But are they small portions? Because I’m starving.”
Griffin grinned at her. “You actually eat?”
“Do I? Just watch me.” She took a gulp of her beer, then grimaced. “Although my appetite might be off since this is like eating a loaf of bread.”
Griffin hunched over so his hands were on Spencer beneath the table. “Did Wendall buy you that round?”
“Very sweet of him.” She nodded. “I guess you’re a regular regular here? Everybody knows your name?”
“Kind of.” He shrugged. “When I’m in town I’m here quite a bit. But not, like, alcoholic levels or anything,” he backpedaled.
She realized it was the perfect in for her request.
“Speaking of being out of town . . .”
Wendall delivered his beer and took their food order, forcing her to stop the request and continue to feel weird about it.
“You were asking me about being out of town?” he asked once they were alone again. He had a habit of staring into her eyes that made her want to look away.
“I told you how bad today was for him, and I’m worried that trying to commute into the city is going to make being on the show really hard for Spence.” Her eyes flicked down to where Griffin’s hands were massaging him, and she forced herself to ignore it. “So . . . I was wondering if—”
“You want my apartment,” he interrupted. “Of course. That’s why I offered it. Happy to let you guys crash there.”
Her heartbeat slowed a measure.
“Are you sure it’s not going to screw up your Airbnb schedule?”
“Not at all. I don’t do it all the time because it pisses off my neighbors. I’ll just take the listing down for a bit.”
Justine finally exhaled. “I can’t tell you what a relief that is! Thank you. He was so sick today. You have no idea.”
“Oh, but I do.” He gave her a quick smile. “I remember it very well.”
In an instant she was reminded of what she was putting at risk by opening herself up to him. But it was too late to take it back.
The door whooshed open again and a skinny guy in a red knit cap, ’70s glasses, and jean jacket walked in and surveyed the room like he was waiting for a round of applause.
“G-man,” he shouted, spotting Griffin. “And Leo? What the hell?” He looked at Spencer and laughed. “What is going on, man?”
Spencer came out from near their feet with his hind end wagging.
“Danny, hey,” Griffin said with a slight frown that only Justine caught. “Long story. How you been?”
“Oh, amazing, man. I’ve been out in Sedona working on my shit.” He finally acknowledged Justine. “Hey, I’m Danny.”
“Justine,” she replied with a wave. Based on Griffin’s cool response she could tell he wasn’t a Danny fan.
“You guys mind if I join you?” he asked as he pulled up a chair to their table.
Griffin’s mouth went into a tight line for an instant. “Be my guest.”
“Leo, man,” he replied, his head bobbing as he slapped Spencer on the back. “Never thought I’d see this dude again.”
“Same.” Griffin shot Justine an apologetic smile.
“Hey! Let me show you some pics of the sweet new deck I just painted for Justin Bieber.”
* * *
• • •
“I never knew there was such a thing as a skateboard artist,” Justine said as she and Griffin stood outside the bar under a streetlight with Spencer sitting between them.
“Oh yeah, there is. To my eternal frustration, there is.”
“Is that his full-time job? Custom painting skateboards?”
Griffin snorted. “No, his full-time job is being a trustafarian. His daddy sta
rted a hedge fund, so Daniel Chase the Second doesn’t have to work.” He shook his head. “Must be nice. Me, I’m hustling every damn day, but all that guy has to worry about is if his monthly allowance has cleared the bank yet.”
“Hey, you’re doing okay,” Justine replied. “You’ve got a great job and a fantastic apartment. I’m the bigger hard-luck case. I’m so poor I can’t even pay attention.”
“Whoa, dad joke. Nice.” He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. “Sorry the meal got ruined by him. He never stops talking about himself. And we have some, uh, history that he’s conveniently forgotten, so it’s not like I enjoy hanging with him.”
“He was entertaining,” she lied. “And dinner was delicious. Awesome recommendation.”
“You didn’t have to pay.”
“Ah, the old ‘pretend you have to go to the bathroom and slip the bartender your credit card’ move. Can’t beat it.”
It felt shockingly like a date, standing in the cold night air with Griffin closer than he should’ve been given that it wasn’t a date. It was the first time she’d bothered to acknowledge his lips. There was no symmetry to them. The bottom one was much larger than the top, and she found herself mesmerized by it.
“Are you okay to drive home?” he asked, startling her back to reality.
“Of course. I only had one. Couldn’t stomach another of those.” She shuddered.
“Yeah, but you scored a bunch of points with Wendall for finishing it.”
Justine watched a cab pass by them slowly. “I should probably hit the road. Rush hour is over.”
“Rush hour never ends in New York, you’ll see.”
She felt a tingle of excitement when she realized that she was going to get to pretend to be a local a few days a week.
“When do you want to do the key handoff?”
“How about right now?” Griffin reached into his pocket and pulled out a single key on a narrow brown leather strap.
“Wait, you brought a spare key? How did you . . .”
He smiled, unleashing his dimples just for her. “I had a feeling that’s why you reached out today. And if you didn’t ask, I was going to offer again. It makes sense for both of you.”
Not only was the gesture genuinely kind; it was also a little psychic.
“Griffin, thank you,” Justine said.
Her gratitude overwhelmed her, and for a moment she wanted to step around Spencer and pull Griffin into a quick hug, but that would make the not-a-date moment feel even more like one.
“You know where you’re going? Need me to nav you out of here?”
“No, I’m good.” She nodded and glanced down at Spencer. “He’s asleep standing up. Time for us to leave. I’ll text you with my schedule for next week.”
“Perfect.”
Griffin took two quick steps toward her and wrapped her in a hug before she realized what he was doing. She was still holding Spencer’s leash and she couldn’t reciprocate with both arms, so she flung one behind his back and leaned into him as he pulled her close. He felt solid and warm, like he’d just been sitting in front of a fireplace. Her cheek ended up against the soft leather on his shoulder for a few seconds, and she tried to process exactly why she wanted to raise her face and wait for the kiss that would inevitably come if it were an actual date.
Which it wasn’t.
He released her almost as quickly as he’d grabbed her. “Sorry, I’m a hugger.”
“Yeah, same. No problem.” She had a hard time looking at his face, but he didn’t seem to have the same issue. Since she’d already determined that he was a little psychic, it was possible he could tell what she was thinking. Things like imagining his pillowy bottom lip on top of hers. Or pretending to trip over Spencer’s leash in the hopes that he’d grab her arm and pull her close. It had been months since she’d felt that electric flicker of want, and he was exactly the wrong person to be on the receiving end of it.
“Let me walk you to your car.”
She wished she’d had trouble finding parking. “It’s right there.” She pointed to the red Mini Cooper peeking around the corner.
“Oh, okay,” he said softly. He leaned down and gave Spencer a kiss on the head. “Bye, Spence, hope you make it home without puking.”
“I’ll text you the photographic evidence either way,” Justine said over her shoulder as she walked to her car.
“Perfect, can’t wait.”
chapter fifteen
Spencer kept his pace close to Justine’s, occasionally glancing up at her to check in. They were at mile two of four on their first outdoor run in forever, falling into the rhythm she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed. She filled her lungs with the cool fall air and understood that there was no way the treadmill came close to the feelings she got when she ran outside. She needed it, and she was angry at herself for not getting out more often, especially with winter weather on the way.
They were on the “promenade path,” the easy, flat trail that bordered soccer fields, parks, and homes. It felt like all of Rexford was outside enjoying the global-warming day, which made Justine relax and focus on her breathing and form. Spencer was her athletic idol; his grace put hers to shame.
When her legs started to itch, she unconsciously reached into the pocket of her hoodie for her headphones to distract herself, only to remember that she didn’t have them with her. Running without music was torture, but plugging her ears was a risk she wasn’t willing to take.
Yet.
The fact that she was still stopping herself from doing something she loved made white-hot anger rise in her chest. She was strong; there was no reason to let fear change her habits. She had every right to bliss out on the trail, lulled into a dance-trance by Beyoncé. She didn’t have her music with her but there was another way she could prove that she was the same old Justine.
This run was going to be more than just exercise.
It was one step closer to reclaiming her badassery.
“Spence, this way.”
He glanced up at her and seamlessly shifted his direction. When he recognized where they were heading, he picked up his pace.
“Yup. Let’s go!”
Justine broke into a sprint when she saw the trailhead. She knew she needed to slow down because the route she was choosing to take was long and required focus, and focus adds to exhaustion. But she was doing it.
The trees bordering the path were an explosion of bright yellow and orange, like they were wearing their most cheerful gear just for her. Everything felt right for the first time in ages; the fit of her sneakers, the crisp air, the unmistakable smell of leaves piling on the ground, Spencer’s joy. The crunch of the rocky ground was louder than she realized without her headphones in, but she found a way to turn the rhythm of her feet into a metronome. She started a chant to keep time.
My. Trail. My. Trail.
They ran farther up the incline to where the trail narrowed. Spencer seemed thrilled to be back, rationing his pee so that he could reclaim every tree. He gave a little whine and Justine unclipped his leash to let him run at his own pace. Spencer dashed ahead and buried his nose at the base of a log.
The farther in they went, the denser and darker it became, but it was fine because Justine could do hard things. She refocused on her foot placement since her balance was lacking. Treadmill running couldn’t touch trail running when it came to a total-body workout, and she could already feel the burn in her shoulders and core.
But she felt happy. And strong. And braver than she’d felt in ages.
Was it the lifeline that The Eighteenth was going to provide her? Sure. Of course. The thought that she’d be able to pay her bills and Sienna without worrying was enough to make her want to start singing at the top of her lungs. And it wasn’t just the money. It was the adventure.
She looked down at her feet, watching for rock
s and roots. Her eyes flicked up to scan the horizon, just as she’d learned to do when she started cross-country in high school. A flash of light through the trees momentarily slowed her, and her brain automatically flipped through her fight-or-flight options until she realized the enemy in the shadows was a bird.
“Spence?”
He crashed through the overgrowth to the edge of the trail and paused with one paw up, a quizzical look on his face.
“Okay, we’re good. Go sniff.”
He turned and disappeared again.
Spencer. Leo. She chanted the names as she ran. Spencer. Leo. Spencer. Leo.
Griffin.
She envisioned his face and smiled even though her calves were starting to burn from the run. He wasn’t a bad guy after all, despite his shitty first impression. He loved Spencer, and Spencer loved him back, which probably carried more weight than anything. And obviously he was attractive. Justine rolled her eyes and puffed out a breath at the understatement. Hot. Yes, obviously.
When her mind drifted to the hug they’d shared, she changed her chant.
Not. Happening. Not. Happening.
The endorphin hit came out of the blue. A fizzy feeling radiated from her belly and her mind felt clearer than it had been in weeks. She felt . . . lighter. It was the giant reset button she’d been craving.
She was back.
Something crashed through the trees in the distance and she fought off the adrenaline rush that shot through her chest by imagining what it could be. Deer. A coyote. A black bear. Bigfoot.
Those she could handle.
Her phone rang and she clutched at her pocket to grab it like it was a lifeline, her sweaty hands almost causing her to drop it on the dirt. It didn’t matter if it was a telemarketer offering her timeshare deals; she was going to answer. Relief flooded her body when she saw Sienna’s number.
“Hi,” she panted, still running. “What’s up?”
“Hey, where are you? You sound weird.”
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