Page 7 of Griffin (Pecan Pines #3)

Chapter 7

Michael

G riffin grunted as he took another step up the ladder, his head vanishing deeper into the top shelf.

“Which one did Noah want again?” he asked, shuffling through the boxes with a clinking of glasses that sounded borderline chaotic.

I held the ladder steady, fingers gripping tight as I silently counted to three before answering. “Second row to the right. The one with the extra inferno kick.”

I bit my lip, trying not to laugh, my grip tightening both to keep the ladder stable and to hold back the snicker threatening to escape.

Watching Griffin struggle with a stack of hot sauce boxes was definitely worth it.

I’d promised I’d be the best employee Pecan Pines had ever seen, but I hadn’t expected him to hold me to it quite this intensely—working me to the bone every shift.

Like the time I was chatting with a couple of regulars about the craft brews, and he came up with that same unreadable look, saying, “Michael, other customers are waiting.”

At first, I figured he was just running a tight ship, but it kept happening.

I’d get a laugh from a regular, or they’d compliment my pour, and like clockwork, there’d be Griffin at my side, reminding me of the next thing on my list.

Honestly, I didn’t mind.

Casey was right—I needed this job to stay grounded, something that kept my mind busy enough to keep my thoughts from spiraling into that anxious, trapped feeling whenever my stalker crossed my mind.

If I lingered on it, the fear would tighten in my chest, cold and clinging like ice.

Just the other night, I’d opened my streaming app and was met with a flood of offline messages from mforever018 . Even just seeing that username made my skin crawl.

So happy we got to meet at Cinderfield GamesCon.

When’s your next stream?

Can’t wait to watch you.

At first, they seemed innocent enough, but then the messages took on an insistent, almost desperate tone that made my stomach churn.

Why aren’t you streaming?

You promised you wouldn’t keep me waiting.

I don’t think I can keep going if I don’t see you soon.

Each word felt like a weight pressing down on me, lingering even now in the back of my mind.

If it weren’t for the bone-deep exhaustion from staying late at the bar—cleaning up, refilling condiment bottles, wiping down tables—I’d probably lie awake all night, replaying those words and dreading what might come next.

At least the job left me too worn out to do anything but crash into bed and try to forget for a few hours.

“Are you sure it’s on the second row?” Griffin’s voice cut through my thoughts. He glanced down from the ladder, one eyebrow raised.

“Positive,” I said, barely keeping my grin in check, pushing aside the unsettling memories to keep the lighthearted act going.

No need to let him see what was really haunting me.

He let out a frustrated grunt, setting down the box he was holding and digging even deeper.

I bit back a laugh as he muttered a few curses.

“Oh, and grab the one at the back,” I added, trying to keep my tone innocent. “Noah said the ones close to expiring are hiding back there somewhere.”

The groan that followed was totally worth it.

He paused, turning to look at me with a smirk, his eyes crinkling in a way that spread a surprising warmth through my chest.

One thing I’d noticed about Griffin was that he didn’t really smile like that for anyone else—not for Noah, not for the other staff or customers. Just me.

“You’re messing with me, aren’t you?” His voice had a low, playful rumble to it, catching me off guard.

I couldn’t help it—a wide grin broke free. “What gave it away?”

He shook his head, chuckling as he picked up the same box he’d just set down. “Because we always keep the bottles that expire first right at the front.”

He shot me an exasperated look before stepping down the ladder with effortless balance, holding the box under one arm.

My eyes couldn’t help but follow him, tracing the lines of his back, the way his muscles shifted under his shirt, and down to his jeans that hugged his thighs just right.

I wondered, not for the first time, how firm that ass really was. Heat crept up my face, and I quickly looked away as he reached the bottom.

“Enjoying the view?” Griffin’s voice had that rare teasing edge, a lightheartedness that made my stomach do a small, unexpected flip.

I swallowed hard, masking my reaction with a laugh.

“I don’t know what you mean,” I said as smoothly as I could, reaching out as he handed me the box.

His fingers brushed against mine, and a jolt shot up my arm, like a spark I hadn’t seen coming.

I almost dropped the box but managed to catch it. Griffin’s eyebrow arched. I forced a casual laugh, looking down to hide the blush rising in my cheeks.

“Wow, that would’ve been a huge chunk out of my salary, huh?” I joked, hoping to lighten the moment.

“Salary?” Griffin’s tone was mock-serious as he leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. “Casey told me you were working for free. Besides, didn’t you mention you had zero food and beverage experience?” His smirk widened. “Think of this as on-the-job training.”

“What?” I blurted, almost dropping the box again.

Before I could process it, Griffin’s arms were around me, steadying the box and pressing close against my back.

His warmth radiated through me, and the scent of pine and something distinctly him filled my senses, making my mind go blank.

He was so close, I didn’t know if I wanted to lean against him or push him away. The silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken tension.

I shifted uneasily, trying to put some space between us, but Griffin didn’t budge—his body remained where it was, like he had all the time in the world to wait me out.

I cleared my throat, forcing myself to break the silence. “I worked my butt off all week, and you’re saying I’m not getting paid?”

I leaned back just enough to try to push him away again, but he stayed in place, his hand resting lightly on the counter, caging me.

I tried to sound irritated, but the flush creeping up my neck betrayed me. “And I only mentioned the no-experience thing because?—”

I paused, catching the smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You’re messing with me, aren’t you?”

Griffin broke into a laugh, deep and genuine, vibrating through his chest against my back.

The sound made something flip inside me, and I had to fight the urge to reach up and grab his face, like I’d done at the convention.

No . Michael: employee. Griffin: boss.

Still, the question that had been lingering in the back of my mind came to the surface: Why had he been at the convention that night?

Outside of quick exchanges here at work, we hadn’t had much chance to talk about anything personal.

Just as I was gathering the nerve to bring it up, my phone buzzed, jolting us both out of the moment.

Todd’s name flashed on the screen, making my stomach twist. He’d been calling non-stop for days.

My thumb hovered over the screen, torn between answering and letting it go to voicemail.

Griffin’s brow furrowed. “Everything okay?” His question pulled me back, and I noticed he’d taken the box from me without my realizing it.

The call ended, and I exhaled, feeling the tension ease. But before I could pocket the phone, it buzzed again, sharper this time.

The door leading to the back was only a few steps away, and I mumbled, “Sorry, I need to take this,” without waiting for Griffin’s reaction as I slipped outside.

The cool night air bit at my skin as I pressed the phone to my ear, trying to steady my voice. “Hey, Todd.”

“Why haven’t you been answering my calls?” Todd’s voice cut through the quiet alley, sharp and direct.

I winced, scrambling for a reply. How could I explain without letting everything spill or breaking the promise I made to Casey?

“You said you'd only be gone a couple of days, Michael. It’s been almost a week.” His frustration was plain, his voice catching on a sigh, teetering between anger and something almost desperate. “Look, I don’t know what’s wrong but I can’t help if I don’t know what’s going on.”

I bit the inside of my cheek, that familiar mix of guilt and dread bubbling up. “I’m sorry, Todd, but I… I need just a bit more time.”

“Michael, this isn’t a game.” His tone softened, edging toward pleading. “The people at Shadowfall: Requiem have been calling, asking where your gameplay reviews are. They expect a live stream tonight , and I can’t keep stalling for you. We can’t lose this contract. Besides, what about your fans?”

I closed my eyes, fighting back the familiar knot of dread that twisted tighter with each word.

The thought of streaming with mforever018 lurking somewhere out there made my stomach churn.

His messages flashed in my mind, every line digging a little deeper, fueling a fear that was hard to shake.

Streaming felt like leaving the door wide open, practically inviting him in.

“I-I know, Todd,” I said, forcing my voice to stay steady.

Todd went silent for a second. When he spoke again, his voice was softer. “I’m your manager, but I’m also your friend. We’ve worked too hard to let this fall apart. I’m here for you, okay? Just… let me in on what’s going on with you.”

The guilt hit hard. Todd was one of the few people I truly trusted—a constant through all the ups and downs of my career, someone who’d stuck by me from day one.

Keeping this from him, this whole mess, felt like betraying that trust.

I’d come to Pecan Pines without telling him why, without letting him in on just how much the stalker was getting to me.

And now, if I didn’t stream, I’d be letting him down in a different way. He didn’t deserve this.

“Thanks, Todd,” I murmured, hanging up, my chest tight. It wouldn’t take much for him to hear the worry in my voice again.

When I walked back into the bar, I couldn’t shake the image of Griffin’s concerned expression.

I’d barely managed a hurried excuse before slipping out, and the thought of explaining myself… I couldn’t do it.

The idea of him seeing me rattled like this was too much. I shook it off, pushing the unease aside, and headed back to Casey’s apartment.

The walk felt longer than usual, each step a steady, uneasy beat in my chest. By the time I got inside, my nerves were buzzing.

I set up my laptop, my fingers jittering as I adjusted the streaming setup.

Normally, this routine grounded me, but tonight, it felt like I was setting up a stage for disaster.

I double-checked my VPN settings, making sure my location was hidden. “Just another stream,” I muttered, even though every instinct told me it wasn’t.

Todd’s words echoed in my mind: We’ve worked too hard to let this fall apart . I owed it to him—and to the fans who’d been with me from the start.

But no matter how hard I tried to hold onto those reasons, the dread sank deeper, whispering that this stream could be the one that brought the stalker even closer.

With each camera adjustment, every tweak to the lighting, my anxiety sharpened, reminding me of every reason I’d wanted to avoid this.

I’d promised Casey I’d only stream if I absolutely had to. And now, I didn’t have a choice.

My contract with Shadowfall: Requiem demanded it, and backing out would mean breaking that commitment—and dragging Todd down with me.

I gripped the setup tightly, forcing myself to stay focused. You can do this , I told myself, swallowing the doubt clawing at my chest.

Just get through tonight’s stream—it’ll be over, at least for now. Todd’s counting on me.

With a deep breath, I clicked the button to go live in thirty minutes, hoping that once it was behind me, the weight pressing down would finally ease up.

LIVE IN 30 MINUTES – SHADOWFALL: REQUIEM FIRST IMPRESSIONS .

The notification went out, and the chat slowly started filling up. Familiar usernames scrolled by, fans and supporters all gearing up for the stream.

Then one username stopped me cold: mforever018 .

Missed you, Michael! Can’t wait to see you tonight.

To anyone else, the message would have seemed harmless, just another comment in the flood of emojis and excited texts.

But to me, it felt like icy fingers pressing against the back of my neck, sending a chill all the way down my spine.