Page 6 of Griffin (Pecan Pines #3)

Chapter 6

Griffin

I turned back to the bar, pretending to be focused on the drink order in front of me.

Too bad my eyes kept drifting to Michael as he took orders with an ease that hadn’t been there when he first started.

He moved between tables, his dark hair catching the dim bar lights every now and then.

I couldn’t help but notice the slight smile tugging at his lips as he interacted with the customers.

Michael was polite, maybe even a little shy, but he was starting to fit in.

The guy was a mystery—last night, he’d been awkward and closed off, and who could blame him?

I’d nearly bitten his head off after the accident.

And then today, he showed up early with a bucket of gum for the bar, looking apologetic and somehow…sweet.

He looked like he genuinely wanted to be here, and there was something about that commitment that tugged at me.

I poured another drink, handing it to one of the regulars, but my eyes went right back to Michael.

I wasn’t even looking for a mistake at this point; I was just watching him work.

And that’s when I saw it: a couple of my packmates eyeing him with more interest than I liked.

The way Ron and Steve were practically leaning over their stools to get a better look made my jaw tighten.

"Where do you think he’s from?" Ron asked Steve, nodding toward Michael.

"No clue, but he’s pretty cute. Hey, Griffin, who’s your new—" Steve started, but he clammed up fast as I felt a low, involuntary growl rise from my chest.

It wasn’t loud, but it was enough to make both of them shut up, exchanging wary glances.

Good. They could look somewhere else. I didn’t want anyone—even my packmates—sniffing around Michael.

I barely knew the guy myself, but there was this strange, uncomfortable feeling rising in me whenever I thought about anyone else getting close to him.

Michael had kissed me in that cab, just a quick, fleeting kiss, but it had lingered in my mind.

The way his lips had brushed against mine, soft and unsure, had stirred something I hadn’t felt in years.

It was as if that one kiss had imprinted itself on my senses. He’d brushed it off as an accident, but I didn’t buy it.

An accident was bumping into someone on the street—not leaning in and pressing your lips to theirs like they were the only solid thing holding you up.

I wanted it to happen again. Just to test things out, to prove that whatever I was feeling was some fluke. Or maybe to prove that it wasn’t.

And damn it, I wasn’t used to feeling this way—this protective urge to keep other people away from him, this desire to stake some unspoken claim.

I was so lost in thought that I barely registered Michael waving a hand in front of my face.

"Griffin? Earth to Griffin? I need three beers and two buckets of wings for table seventeen,” Michael said.

My gaze snapped back to reality, and I nodded, trying to shake off the tension tightening in my chest.

"Right. Sorry, got distracted for a second,” I admitted.

I could feel Ron and Steve’s eyes on me, but they didn’t say anything.

They were too busy trying to look like they weren’t being nosy. Typical wolves.

My annoyance flared up again, and I shot them a look, daring them to say something, anything.

They both cleared their throats, muttering among themselves and turning their attention back to their drinks.

Good. They could keep their opinions to themselves.

I got the drinks and wings ready, sliding them across the bar, but Michael was still watching me with a hint of a smirk.

"Got distracted, huh? Must be an important thought,” Michael said.

I raised an eyebrow. "Just making sure everything’s running smoothly, that’s all,” I lied.

He rolled his eyes, a hint of that playful spark flashing in his gaze. "Right. Sure."

The way he looked at me, like he was starting to relax and feel comfortable, only made me want to push my luck.

It’d be so easy to reach over, pull him close, feel that warmth from his hand in mine like I had that night in the cab.

A part of me wanted to corner him in the back, just to see what he’d do, if he’d blush or lean in like he had before.

But the logical side of me—barely there, granted—held me back.

And maybe that’s what kept me on edge, the fact that he was working for me now, that we had a work arrangement.

And yet, there was this crackling tension between us, simmering just beneath the surface.

Even my wolf, usually calm and centered, was prowling, eager, riled up. I’d never felt possessive like this before.

Hell, I didn’t even know what I was feeling, not really.

"Is there something on my face?" Michael’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

He was watching me, brow furrowed, a hint of uncertainty in his eyes.

"No." I forced a casual tone, shrugging. "You’re just doing…better than I expected, I guess."

"Thanks, I think?" He smiled, a shy, almost disbelieving smile that only made me want to protect him more.

I turned away, needing to put some space between us before I did something stupid, like lean in and make him feel that tension too.

But it was impossible to stay away, not when I could hear him laughing softly with customers, his voice carrying over the hum of the bar.

Every laugh, every look he gave to someone else felt like a little needle, poking at the strange, possessive part of me that wanted him all to myself.

Then, as if the universe was testing my control, I caught a scent that made my wolf bristle.

It was another shifter’s scent, one I didn’t recognize, trailing in from the door.

I looked up to see a guy I’d never seen before hovering a little too close to Michael, chatting him up. A tourist?

My wolf’s instinct flared, a hot surge of protectiveness tightening my grip on the glass I was holding.

The guy leaned in, flashing Michael a charming smile that was a little too familiar.

And Michael, being polite, smiled back, though he looked a bit wary.

The stranger’s hand brushed against Michael’s arm, lingering longer than necessary, and something inside me snapped.

I took a deep breath, setting the glass down with a soft but firm clink.

It didn’t take much to make my way over, the tension in my chest morphing into a determination that bordered on territorial.

I slid up beside Michael, nodding at the guy.

"Can I help you with something?" My voice came out steady, maybe a little colder than necessary.

The stranger blinked, clearly taken aback, and glanced between me and Michael.

I suppressed a growl, but I could feel my eyes shifting color. My wolf was itching to rip this tourist’s head off.

"Uh, no, just… just chatting with your handsome waiter here,” he said.

I gave him a toothy smile, but it wasn’t friendly.

"Well, he’s got work to do, so maybe it’s time you find someone else to chat with,” I said.

The guy’s expression shifted, a flicker of confusion and irritation crossing his face.

A growl finally rumbled from my throat, and he backed off, muttering something under his breath as he retreated.

Michael’s brows lifted, a hint of amusement dancing in his gaze.

"Were you…jealous?" Michael asked.

I crossed my arms, trying to shrug off the accusation.

"I was just making sure my employee could get his job done without distractions,” I answered.

"Right." His lips twitched, fighting back a smirk. "Didn’t know you cared that much about productivity."

There was a teasing lightness to his tone, and it only made me want him more.

I wanted to pull him aside, tell him exactly why I cared so much, let him feel the intensity he’d stirred up inside me.

But I held back. For now.

"Just get back to work, okay?" I muttered, turning back toward the bar.

As I walked away, I couldn’t help but glance back, catching his gaze lingering on me.

There was something in his eyes—curiosity, maybe even interest.

And as much as I wanted to stay guarded, to pretend this was just another job, the look in his eyes set my pulse racing all over again.

Back at the bar, I tried to focus on the orders, but my mind kept drifting back to him.

My wolf’s possessive urges hadn’t quieted down, not by a long shot, and if anything, they’d only gotten worse.

The idea of anyone else touching Michael, of him looking at someone else the way he’d looked at me, made me irrationally angry.

But mixed with that anger was this strange, undeniable pull, something that wasn’t just about wanting to protect him but went deeper, more intense.

I’d never felt this way before, not for anyone.

It left me confused, like I was walking on a tightrope between caution and instinct.

I didn’t want to scare him off or make him feel like I was crossing any lines.

But, damn it, I couldn’t shake this need to keep him close, to make sure he was safe, to be the only one he leaned on.

The bar had settled into its usual rhythm by the time Noah came up to me, guitar slung over his shoulder, a little worn from tonight’s set but grinning wide.

I poured him a drink, setting it in front of him just as he slid onto the barstool.

“Good crowd tonight,” he said, raising his glass before taking a sip.

His eyes were bright, like he was holding back something unsaid. Noah continued, “People seemed extra lively. And…what’s the deal with you and Michael?"

I shrugged, reaching for another glass to wipe down as if I hadn’t heard him right.

"Nothing’s going on,” I replied.

Noah raised a brow, setting his glass down slowly.

“Come on, Griff. I saw you practically growling at that shifter earlier. That wasn’t nothing.” His voice held a teasing edge, but his eyes were serious.

I wanted to tell him to butt out, to keep his nose in his own business, but this was Noah.

We didn’t hide things from each other—hadn’t needed to since we were kids. I could feel him waiting, his gaze almost drilling into me.

“Alright, fine,” I muttered, setting the glass down with a bit more force than intended. “I…might have feelings for Michael.”

Noah’s eyes widened, then a smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“Might have feelings? Really? You growled at someone for even looking at him,” Noah pointed out.

I rolled my eyes, trying to shrug off the intensity of what he was saying. But he wasn’t wrong.

"Yeah, okay. More than might , alright? It’s weird, though. I barely know him, and yet…”

The words trailed off, but Noah seemed to get it.

He nodded slowly, his usual playfulness replaced by genuine interest.

“So, you gonna do anything about it? Or just stand around here all broody?” Noah asked.

“Maybe,” I said with a sigh. “I don’t know where to even start. You got any advice?”

Noah let out a short laugh.

“Advice? From me? I’ve never had a serious relationship in my life. Now Sawyer, on the other hand…but too bad he’s off playing lovebirds with Casey,” Noah said.

My shoulders slumped. It was true.

As much as I liked to keep things to myself, I knew Sawyer would’ve had some kind of guidance, especially now that he was happily mated to Casey.

But he wasn’t here, and that left me floundering.

Just then, Michael appeared at the bar, ticket in hand for another order. He looked between me and Noah, curiosity lighting his eyes.

“Looks serious,” he said, nodding at the two of us. “What were you two talking about?”

“Nothing,” I answered a little too quickly, turning back to wipe down the counter.

Noah gave me a knowing look, but I ignored him and focused on pouring drinks for Michael’s table instead, hoping my face didn’t betray anything.

Michael’s eyes lingered on me a little too long, and I felt my wolf becoming attentive, interested.

He seemed to catch the awkward silence between Noah and me, his brow furrowing slightly.

“Okay, then,” he said, sounding unconvinced.

Michael took the tray I’d loaded up with drinks, but just before he turned away, he muttered, “Let me know if you need help with…whatever it is.”

His voice was soft, hesitant, like he was unsure if he should have even offered. But then he left, tray balanced perfectly as he wove back into the crowd.

The moment he was gone, Noah chuckled. "Smooth, Griff. Real smooth. He’s gonna figure it out if you keep acting like that,” Noah pointed out.

“Mind your own business, Noah,” I grumbled, but there was no real bite in my words.