by Nia Arthurs
Brown eyes lock on me. “Don’t make me regret this.”
I throw a hand over my heart. “You’ve got my word. This project will go off without a hitch.”
“I hope you’re right.”
So do I, but I leave that part unsaid.
12 Griffin
After my meeting with Doc, I head out for my date with Cobie.
The grin on my face is blinding, I’m sure.
My heart’s pounding.
I turn the radio up and sing along to the eighties bop screaming through the speakers.
Is it just me or did the sun always shine that brightly?
I grin at the scenery rushing outside my window. Cobblestoned sidewalks stretch for miles. Huge trees mount to the sky, their heavy branches shading pedestrians from the heat.
Quaint shops dot the landscape, stalwart soldiers holding their own against the corporations that run the economy. Colorful awnings flap in the wind and large glass windows display a variety of wares, inviting customers to browse.
I roll to a stop between the yellow lines stripped into the curb before a tiny coffee shop.
Hopping out, I stride toward the glass doors, noticing the rustic chalkboard situated beneath the shade. The name flowing across the top catches my eye.
Brew Drop Coffee Shop.
There’s a picture next to the name of the store. I’m assuming it’s a drop of dew, but it could be a raindrop or a sparkling tear for the lack of artistic skill.
When I enter, a bell jangles cheerfully.
The room is open and brightly lit. Bookshelves fill three of the walls. A handful of square tables with tall, wooden chairs are scattered around the space. There’s a haphazardness to the decor, but it’s warm.
Welcoming.
Charming.
Reminds me of the coffee shops in my hometown.
Speaking of coffee, the scent unfurls in the air like a beckoning flag.
I sniff.
A fresh brew.
My stomach growls, warning that I haven’t eaten since breakfast.
I check my watch and wonder if it would be impolite to order something before Cobie arrives.
I decide to go for it and amble to the large display case.
My mouth waters as I check out the selection of cupcakes.
Chocolate. Red velvet. Cheesecake. Vanilla.
Score.
My sweet tooth used to be the bane of my existence. Every fad diet and fasting regime fell a swift and bloody death when I caught sight of a pastry.
It’s why I’ve avoided bakeries like the plague.
But now that I’m here, there’s no way I can choose just one, so I end up snagging five different flavors and promise myself I’ll work them off at the gym.
The bells jangle.
I glance up and spot a tall, slender woman with beautiful, dark brown skin and long black hair strutting in. She’s wearing a delicate wrap that flows off her shoulders and jeans that hug her trim calves.
With one, fluid motion, she slides her shades to the top of her head. Large brown eyes survey the coffee shop. Her thin nose scrunches and she glances at her phone.
Chandra.
Unlike Cobie, who managed to capture and keep the essence of her high school self, Chandra looks older. More mature. There’s a sharpness to her cheeks and a wariness in her eyes that tells a sad story.
But she’s still as beautiful as I remember.
I stroll toward her, knowing I have to pass her to get back to my table.
She notices my approach and her lips melt into a pleasant smile.
“You must be Griffin,” she says, her voice soft and feminine.
I stop.
Study her.
My nerves tighten.
Does she recognize me?
Impossible.
No one’s been able to link the face I have now to the one I sported back in high school. For the past ten years, I’ve been coasting along as a different guy entirely.
“Who are you?” I play dumb.
“I’m Chandra Howard.” She prances nearer.
I shuffle back. “Have we met?”
“No. Not in person.” She narrows her eyes, gaze casting over my head and down to my feet. “Your picture didn’t do you justice.”
I stiffen in horror. “What picture?”
“The one from the Winthrop Corp webpage.”
The breath of relief that escapes my chest rattles the coffee mug balanced on my tray.
For a moment there, I thought she was referring to one of my old high school headshots.
Growing up, I developed an aversion to taking pictures. In fact, I still cringe when Mom breaks out the old albums and tries showing them off to the neighbors.
It bothers me that I used to look like that.
I just want to seal away those years.
Pretend they never happened.
“That’s probably the only photo you’ll find. I don’t have social media.”
“Everyone’s online nowadays so if you’re not…” She leans closer, eyes narrowed. “What are you trying to hide, Mr. Bech?”
I squirm.
Say nothing.
Chandra shrugs, letting it go easily. “If you’re not on socials, how did you hear about our little bakery?”
“Cobie asked me to meet here.”
An eyebrow arches. “She asked you out?”
“It felt more like a punishment.”
“Did you do something wrong?”
“I’d say it was a mutual offence.”
She regards me drily. “I doubt it was mutual. My best friend is an angel.”
I laugh loudly.
There’s the sarcastic Chandra everyone adored.
Unlike the other girls, I remember Chandra as the cut-and-dry type. Quiet but blunt. When she did speak, people stopped to listen.
She rarely hooked up with anyone, which made her an enigma in the boys’ locker room. All the guys ached to conquer her. She’d always seemed to be overlooking us though, as if we weren’t worth her time. There was a rumor that she was dating a college guy those last two years, but it was unconfirmed.
Jutting my chin toward one of the only free tables, I ask, “If I’m due an interrogation, at least let me taste one of these cupcakes first.”
“Fine with me. Even death row inmates get their last meal.”
I grin because that comment, for some reason, reminds me of Cobie.
Chandra follows me to a table and primly sets a purse down in the chair beside her. Shaking her hair out, she glances at me with a surveying expression.
“I’m surprised you two are hanging out. It’s not standard procedure to interact with the winners after the competition, is it?”
“No.” I leave it there.
“I see.”
“You’re the one who sent in Cobie’s application, right?”
“What are you getting at?”
“Nothing. I’d just like to confirm that when it comes to Cobie and Winthrop, you’re on my side.”
“Well, that depends.”
“On?”
She leans forward. “Whether you’re worth her time.”
I expected that. Chandra was always immensely protective of Cobie, who was the friendlier, more outgoing half of the pair.
There’s no mistaking the suspicion in her eyes. Though I also get the sense that she’s not completely against me.
As the silence stretches, her narrowed eyes relay a silent warning. Be careful how you answer. I know you like her, but if you break her heart? I’ll kill you.
Putting my cupcake down, I focus completely on her. “I assure you, I have nothing but Cobie’s best interest in mind.”
“Really?” A corner of her burgundy-painted lips tilts up. “Is that all you have in mind when it comes to her?”
“No.”
She waits for me to expound.
I don’t.
I figure Cobie’s the one who needs to hear my confession first, not Chandra.
I fold my hands together and say again, “No.”
To be honest, when it comes to Cobie, my thoughts are neither pure nor professional.
But she doesn’t need to know how far back that desire goes.
Chandra reaches out and snags the red velvet cupcake. “In that case, I’ll take this as a bribe.”
“Take them all.” I slide the plate over to her side. “I’ll need all the help I can get.”
A shadow casts over our table. “Don’t give her a thing, Griffin.”
I recognize Cobie’s voice and glance up.
She smirks at me and then points to Chandra. “Excuse me, ma’am, but don’t you own the store?”
“I do, don’t I?”
Covering my amusement with a cough, I ask, “You’re the owner?”
“That’s right.” She rises and takes a chomp out of the red velvet. “I’ll get you another cupcake. On the house.”
The grin on my mouth grows wide. I’m really glad to hear that Chandra’s doing well. I always liked her, even if it was in a different way than I liked Cobie.
“I’ll talk to you later,” Cobie grumbles, swatting her best friend on the arm as she passes by.
“Bye, Griffin.” Chandra juts her chin down.
I wipe my fingers on a napkin and stare at Cobie. “Hey.”
“Hi.” She settles in the chair across from me. Sunlight pours from the large windows facing the street and the light brushes her brown skin with an otherworldly luminescence.
It’s like she’s glowing.
Chandra was right.
Cobie really is an angel.
“What did you two talk about?” she asks.
“This and that.”
Cobie reaches out and steals one of my cupcakes.
It’s a simple gesture and she probably means for it to irritate me, but my heart thuds.
I want to wrap her in my arms so desperately the limbs start to ache.
She pauses. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Instead of answering, I press one palm on the table, stretch across and scrape my thumb beneath the underside of her lip. There’s frosting there, sure, but I could have just as easily handed her a napkin.
I’ve got to touch her.
Got to taste her.
But we’re not there yet, so I settle for staring into her eyes and licking her frosting from my thumb. “Sweet.”
She sucks in a shocked breath.
Pupils dilate.
Cheeks flush, red tones swirling beneath the brown.
Her eyes flit to my lips and back.
The cupcake plops from her hands and falls upside-down on the table.
13 Cobie
I’m an idiot.
But we’ve established this.
Since meeting Griffin Bech, I’ve been losing my brain cells. My concentration. My inhibitions.
Reasons why I shouldn’t keep disappearing.
Submitting.
Relenting… to the reasons I should.
The one reason.
Because I want to.
Memories flash.
The conference room.
Sunshine skating through the windows.
His hand on my face.
His breath on my ear.
Dark, pink lips hovering over my mouth.
My heart clamoring and tightening.
Hopelessly, I struggle for balance as a wave of desire crashes into me.
Too strong.
I’d love to return to that moment, to the safety of his arms.
Love to replace that frosting in his mouth, his big, rough fingers binding around my thighs, spreading them apart. And… oh man, is it getting hot in here or is it just me?
I dig my teeth into my bottom lip, trembling to keep my butt in my seat and my hands to myself.
Griffin chuckles. The sound of dark pleasure. Tumbling, rolling tides. Languid movement. Heat. Tangled limbs. Tangled lips. Hearts. Bodies.
He’s shockingly beautiful, the kind that doesn’t quite belong to this world. Butterflies contort and tumble in my stomach. It’s impolite to stare, but Griffin demands my attention.
Solid. Confident.
Hard. Tender.
A walking distraction.
A perfect disorder.
“Need a napkin?” He grabs a bunch from the container and starts to clean up the fallen cupcake.
I snatch it from him, allowing the irritation to rise in me and, hopefully, hide my lust. “Oh, now you know where the napkins are?”
A grin notches up one side of his lips.
My tummy wobbles.
“Why did you invite me here?” he asks.
“I wanted to get on Elsa’s nerves.”
“Elsa?”
“The girl at the front desk.”
“You mean Ella?”
My movements jerk to a stop. “Damn. Was I that close?”
“About what you heard when you came in—”
“It’s none of my business.” I bundle the napkins together, crumpling them into a ball with a little more force than necessary.
A pale hand clamps my wrist.
I stare at his big fingers. They surround my hand, filling me with warmth.
It’s annoying how much I want him to keep holding me, touching me.
It’s annoying how much the contrast of our skin tones is stimulating me.
Brown. White. Brown. White.
It’s so sexy.
I like it.
Too much.
“It is now.”
“You think I care? You’re free to date whoever you want.”
“But I don’t want her.”
“You want me?”
“If you’re asking, I guess I haven’t made myself clear enough.” He releases my hand.
I frown. “Does it not register?”
“What?”
My eyes linger on his. “That I don’t trust you.”
“Is that your way of asking me to draw the line?”
“Would you?” I arch an eyebrow. “Would you draw the line and never cross it if I told you so?”
His gaze shifts outside. “I’d be disappointed.” Back to me. “But I’d do it. Out of respect. I wouldn’t want you to call me a twat.”
I laugh. “You’re funny.”
I like the smile that spreads on his face in reply.
The way his brown eyes twinkle.
He keeps knocking down my assumptions of him, revealing a warmth and kindness that feels out of place in a body as sinfully gorgeous as his.
“Can I ask you a question?” he says.
The way his eyes are boring into mine, I know it’s going to get personal.
I try to find a glimmer of strength in me to reject him, to keep him out, away from my heart the way he’s taken control of my body.
Instead, I shrug. “Go ahead.”
“Why did you sign the contract?”
“You mean after we fought that day?”
“Yes.”
“Because you hit a nerve.” I pry my eyes from his. Turn it down to the table. “Because my mom deserves a bigger legacy than I can give her on my own.”
“I remember she died when you were a sophomore,” he says softly. “My condolences.”
My eyes return to his. “How did you know that?”
“It was in your form.” His cheeks flush slightly.
I nod. “It was hard when she passed. I never knew my father so I had to live with my grandmother. Gran died a few days after my high school graduation. For a while, I started wondering if everyone I loved was doomed.” I chuckle darkly as if it’s a joke.
But it’s not.
I spent two years completely traumatized after Gran passed. I didn’t know what to do with myself, didn’t know where I would go from there.
Chandra was the one who dragged me out of town just to get away from the memories, f
rom the pain.
“You know that wasn’t your fault, Cobie,” Griffin says softly.
“I know. Life just sucks.” I study him. “What about you?”
“My parents are still living.”
I chuckle, noticing his sheepish expression.
Griffin is so handsome.
And sweet.
There’s a boyishness that peeks out whenever he’s uncertain and I find it absolutely adorable.
“You don’t have to feel guilty because your story’s better than mine.”
“Who said it was better? My baggage might be heavier than yours.”
“I doubt that.” I squeeze one eye and analyze him. “Let me guess. You grew up in a gated community with high society snubs who sail yachts on the weekends. In high school, you were a jock with a different girlfriend every week. But the girls were so eager to give it up you got bored and started dating the Plain Jane with substance.” I grin. “I’m good, aren’t I?”
He chuckles. “Wow.”
“Guys like you are too easy to read.”
“I see we’re back to making assumptions.”
“How far off am I?”
He picks up a cupcake.
It looks tiny, almost toyish, in his big and rough hands.
Turning it around and glancing at it from every angle, Griffin muses, “When I look at this, you know what I see?”
I stare at Zania’s creation, wondering where he’s going with this.
Griffin sets the cupcake back down. “I see three hundred and fifty calories. Fourteen grams of fat. Four grams of saturated fat. I see three hours at the gym sweating my butt off to keep that from showing.”
“If you’re trying to boast about your muscles, that’s not really proving your point.”
A flicker of amusement curls his lips. “I work hard to look like this. It doesn’t come easy. Nothing in my life has come easy.” His voice deepens. “I don’t know about the guys you’ve met before, but I’ll show you who I am. And in exchange, I’d like to get to know you.”
“That was smooth,” I admit, bobbing my head.
“I try.”
“So what? Want a medal.”
“Dinner will do.”
My fingers tighten. “You got lunch.”
“Only because you got jealous.”
“What? Je—“
He cuts me off. “I asked for dinner. The rules haven’t changed.”