Page 18

Chapter Eighteen

Ruby

Me: I cannot believe I’m going to ask this, but how does this outfit look?

With a small shake of my head, I stepped back and snapped a picture of myself in the full-length mirror hanging on my bedroom wall, attaching it to the text I sent to Lauren.

Lauren: Look at you showing a baby glimpse of stomach! Hot. I need more details though. What’s the purpose of the clothing in question?

Me: Function (going for a walk) and Seduction (I’ll explain later)

Lauren: Umm No, You Will Explain Now, Young Lady

Me: Quit yelling at me.

Lauren: If you think I won’t drive over right the fuck now ...

Me: Fine. I think you’re rubbing off on me.

Lauren: Explain.

Me: I propositioned Griffin with a friends with benefits situation after the fair, because I told him about my surgery when he accidentally saw my scar because he was trying to undress me in the bathroom of the school, and he was just so Appealing in how he responded, I couldn’t help myself. I was climbing into his LAP before I knew what was happening. He told me to take a day to think about it, but the extra time was unnecessary. My reasoning is entirely sound.

My phone was ringing before I could take my next breath, and I answered it on a laugh. “Good morning.”

There were no words on the other end of the phone, just unintelligible squealing. On my bed, Bruiser tilted his head back and forth, whining slightly at the high-pitched noises he could hear. I scratched behind his ears and walked out of the room, giving one last glimpse to the crisscrossing straps of the white halter-style sports bra underneath the white mesh top.

The bra covered my scar, but the see-through cropped shirt over it, even though it was boxy and loose, showed more of me than had been shown ... well ... maybe ever.

“So the outfit is okay?” I asked dryly.

“Ruby,” she gasped. “I am speechless. I am without speech.”

I laughed, pulling aside the curtain in my front room to make sure Griffin wasn’t here yet. “We don’t have long. He’s going to be here in a couple minutes.”

“Did you have sex with Griffin?” she whisper-yelled.

“No. And he’s not here, you know. He can’t actually hear you.”

The sound of a door closing came through the phone. “No, but Marcus is in my bedroom sleeping, so ...”

My eyebrows shot up. “Still? I thought you weren’t going to take him home?”

She laughed quietly. “He was too good not to, and I hate to admit that because I was convinced he’d be a lazy lay. But”—she whistled—“he was so damn eager to prove me wrong. I rode that man until his eyes crossed, and I’m pretty sure he’s ready to tattoo my name on his ass after last night. At one point he came so hard, he shed a tear. I left him alone for a few hours yesterday just to prove a point, and he was feral by the time I walked in the door. My neighbors probably thought I was getting murdered because of the sounds coming out of my mouth.” She paused. “And I’m pretty sure we broke my dining room table last night.”

I blinked. “That thing was solid wood.”

“I know,” she sighed. “Epic, right? I had to keep him around for a bit after a performance like that.”

“I guess so.” It was hard not to feel naive, and slightly inferior, when I heard stories like that.

My internal temperature gauge, along with my pulse, spiked immediately when I tried to imagine me and Griffin breaking tables, screaming so loud that my neighbors could hear.

I waved a hand in front of my face and glanced down the street again.

“So ...,” she drawled. “He handled the heart news well?” Lauren asked the question lightly enough, but we both knew it was a Big Friggin’ Deal.

“He did. Really well, all things considered.” I swallowed past a tight throat. “I feel so comfortable with him, you know? And we have ... chemistry or whatever.”

She snorted. “About time you figured that out.”

“You think we do?”

“Honey, if you think I don’t know how to spy on someone in the stacks without them noticing, you don’t know me very well. Anyone standing within ten feet of the two of you noticed.”

I winced. “Did Kenny?”

“Oh yeah. He sent me a text after the dunk tank on Friday night and it said, ‘Hundred bucks those two will get married someday.’”

With a groan, I covered my face with one hand. “I don’t want to get married, I just want—”

“Simultaneous orgasms and to make a man cry. That’s what a lot of us want, honey.”

“Apparently you’ve achieved it,” I answered dryly.

She laughed. “The outfit is hot, Ruby. I may ask to borrow that shirt, actually.”

Smoothing a hand down the shirt in question, I let out a quiet sigh. “Am I crazy for offering this?”

“Oh, let me think ... you have one of the hottest football players in the world wrapped around your darling little finger, and he’s in town just long enough to have your cosmos rearranged.” She made a knowing little sound. “No, I don’t think you’re crazy. Be safe, of course, and make sure you tell him what you want.”

“I almost printed off a checklist last night when I was doing research. I hardly know what I want.” I sighed. “But some of them sounded very intimidating. Gags and fisting and spitting ... it’s all a bit confusing. Can’t I just start with ... I don’t know ... missionary?”

Lauren laughed. “You’ll figure it out. If you’re with him and something sounds ... intriguing, just go for it. Men love it when a woman is up front about what they want.” She cleared her throat. “Speaking of intriguing. I saw a story about Griffin cross my newsfeed his morning. I’ll text you the link.”

My phone pinged, and I opened it up, brow furrowing immediately. It was a grainy snap of Griffin by the dunk tank, cropped so that the fair didn’t really show. He was next to a pretty coed, his shirt soaking wet.

Griffin King: Most Valuable Wet T-Shirt Contestant? NFL’s Favorite Bachelor Soaks Down with Fans

My stomach curled unpleasantly. “That’s a gross misinterpretation of what he was doing,” I scoffed. “It was for charity.”

She sighed. “I know. I was standing three feet away when they took that picture. Griffin was completely polite, never laid a hand on her, even for the picture.”

I chewed on my bottom lip, closing out the article after skimming a few lines about his offseason antics. Yeah. His antics were basically Debauching Ruby Tate, but that didn’t make for a very good headline.

The sound of a purring car engine came down my street, but I didn’t look because I knew it wasn’t Griffin’s truck.

A sharp burst of a car horn had me pulling the curtain aside again, and my jaw practically unhinged when I did. “Lauren, I gotta go.”

“Have fun! Use a condom!”

I hung up on her and blew out a sharp breath, my eyes narrowing as I tucked my phone into the side pocket of my leggings. There was one thing clear as day right now: I was never telling Griffin King anything ever again.

I yanked open the door. “What is that?”

He crossed his arms, a smug grin gracing his stupidly handsome face. “A convertible. You said you wanted to ride in one.”

Despite my very best efforts, my stomach did this swoopy little flutter thing. I pinched the bridge of my nose. Quashing was an absolute waste of my time at this point. “Please tell me you didn’t buy a brand-new car because I said that.”

The vehicle in question was sexy, and that was not a word I used lightly about an inanimate object. Sleek and low to the ground, it was painted a rich deep blue, the seats inside a sumptuous camel-colored leather. Even the knobs on the dashboard looked expensive. Like if I broke one, I’d need to take out a loan for the amount of money I made in a year.

He laid a hand to his chest. “Would I do something that impulsive, birdy?”

I gave him a look, and he chuckled under his breath.

Oh yeah. It was sexy. It looked fast. And if he bought it because of our conversation, I’d have to go scream into my pillow.

The type of screaming—frustration or feet-kicking excitement—was yet to be determined.

“Fear not. It’s my agent’s,” he said, gently patting the hood. “After an exhaustive search, I accidentally found the keys in the mudroom, sent him a text, and promised to return it safely back into the garage when we were done with it.”

Chewing furiously on my bottom lip as I leaned forward to study the interior, I let out a little whimper when my fingers brushed the leather. Like freaking butter. “He doesn’t even know we have his car right now?”

“Based on the lack of response so far, I’d say no.” Griffin stood up, laying his hand on my lower back and ushering me around to the passenger side. It was the oddest thing, but ever since I’d felt comfortable enough to climb into his lap—a momentary lapse of judgment that was still up for debate as to, one, the efficacy, and two, the ultimate outcome of my offer—there was a different sort of vibe when he touched me.

Him touching me did things. Even innocent touches. Like his hand to my lower back. It seemed physiologically impossible that the lower back was an erogenous zone, but the warm weight of his hand just above the hem of my workout leggings made me actually press my thighs together, a quick zap of energy that came out of nowhere, like it had a direct line to my nipples or something.

I cleared my throat, stepping back when he opened the passenger door and made a gallant gesture inside the gorgeous, lush interior. “I thought we were going for a walk,” I told him, glancing up as he shut the door.

“We are.” Griffin whistled as he rounded the hood. Somehow, he eased his long legs into the car as he took his seat.

“ Where are we going for a walk?”

“Don’t worry. You’ll love it. It’s beautiful. Top of the line.”

“‘Top of the line’ for a walk?”

Griffin slid on a pair of mirrored aviator glasses and twisted his Denver hat backward on his head. With the scruff on his jaw and the slightly overlong hair along the back of his neck and over his ears, he looked far too appealing for his own good.

“Buckle up, birdy. We’re gonna test the limits of this thing when we get on the highway.”

My stomach jumped into my throat. “Why are we getting on the highway? Where are we going?”

Not that he would’ve answered anyway, because the man was clearly a sadist, but his phone rang and when he caught sight of the name on the screen, he let out a small hoot of laughter.

He punched a button on the dashboard to answer. “Steven, how are you feeling this morning?”

“If you get a single scratch on my wife’s car, I’ll drop your ass so fast.”

My head whipped over to gawk at Griffin, but he was merely grinning. He leaned forward and pressed a button, the engine purring to life. Over the phone, his agent groaned.

“It’ll be fine. Have I ever gotten in a car accident before?”

“You are a menace.”

“A menace who just got you a nice paycheck. I paid for this car, Steven.”

His agent scoffed. “You are so lucky they just paid you thirty-two million dollars, because that commission is the only reason I put up with your ass.”

My eyes widened, the proverbial floor dropping out from underneath my feet, and I slowly swung my head back in his direction.

“You put up with me because you love me, Steven,” he said, giving me a tiny wink when he caught the flabbergasted look on my face.

“All evidence to the contrary, King. I’ve got seven new gray hairs this week, just from you living at my house.”

I sank down into the seat, pinching the bridge of my nose. Thirty-two million dollars . Just like a normal person, my ass. While my head was buzzing with shock, Griffin said something to his agent about how we’d be perfectly fine and there was nothing to worry about, and to the backdrop of Steven’s creative use of swear words, he disconnected the phone call.

“You all right, birdy?”

“Thirty-two million dollars?” I squeaked.

He lifted a shoulder. “Not bad for two years, especially at my age. Denver really wanted me.”

“That’s for two years?” I groaned, covering my face with both hands. Griffin laughed warmly, tugging my hands down.

There was a fond look in his eye while he studied my face. “What’s the matter? Because I know you better than to think that something like money would intimidate you.”

“Of course it does.” I gestured erratically. “I had this whole speech planned for our walk, and I was going to tell you why I still think my friends-with-benefits idea is highly logical, and now all I can think about is how I climbed into your lap and you make sixteen million dollars a year. No wonder women do a song and dance for you after games.”

“I was kidding about that,” he said dryly.

I sighed. “I know.”

“I make more than sixteen mill, you know,” he added. When my head angled toward him, he winked again. “Endorsements.”

I blew out a slow breath and sank into my seat.

He eased the car forward, and I had to admit, the low hum of the engine was extremely appealing. The whole vehicle seemed to purr, and it dulled a bit of my embarrassment as the breeze ruffled the loose hairs by the side of my face. It was silly to be so bothered by it. Obviously he made millions. How many professional athletes didn’t? Plus, he was on commercials.

During my rest the day before, when I was supposed to be thinking about whether I’d actually meant to proposition him, I’d found myself scrolling YouTube. A simple search of his name produced a mind-boggling number of videos. Game replays (which I didn’t watch), highlight reels (which I did), feats of physical strength and prowess that made my skin feel tight and itchy and warm. The things he could make his body do defied any sort of logic I had within my grasp. Naturally, I had to watch those, um, a few times to make sure I could process them correctly.

He had commercials—for a shoe company and an athletic beverage. One cheesy campaign for an insurance company that made me laugh despite myself. I watched that a few times too.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched the flex of muscles under the golden-tan skin on his forearm and felt my mouth go dry. When he glanced in my direction, I yanked my head around to look out my side of the car.

Griffin pressed down on the gas, and the corresponding roar of the engine, the whipping air around our faces, pulled a smile onto my face immediately. He zipped the car onto the highway, and I tipped my head back, allowing the sun to warm my face and the hypnotic swirling of air make me go weightless.

After only a couple of minutes, I lifted my arms up and stretched them into the air, almost like I was riding a roller coaster. Griffin turned his head to watch, a slow, devastating smile creasing his face.

“Faster?” he asked.

I nodded immediately.

He eased a hand over my leg; then, at the same moment his fingers curled possessively around my thigh, Griffin pressed down on the gas again. The car surged forward, and I laughed breathlessly.

It felt like flying.

There was a time after my surgery where a moment like this might’ve held a bittersweet edge. That it came at a devastating cost—years of my life, my health, someone else’s life. But today, sitting in the sun with the breeze ripping through my hair, I simply let myself enjoy how good it felt.

I lowered my arms, then clasped Griffin’s hand with my own and smiled over at him.

“Where are we going?” I yelled over the roar of the wind.

He pointed at the next highway sign. “Somewhere on that sign.”

There were four cities listed; Fort Collins was one, Denver was another, so those were the most likely. But knowing him, he’d spring an overnight trip on me without hesitation.

I rolled my eyes. “Helpful.”

Griffin squeezed my leg. “I do what I can.”

As we drove for another twenty minutes, I mentally crossed off Fort Collins and decided to simply enjoy the journey. The Rocky Mountains off to the west were imposing under the sun, big and majestic against the blue Colorado sky, snow still visible on the highest of the peaks, variegated greens and browns spread out like a carpet over the base.

“You ever go hiking?” he asked, slowing the speed on the car enough that he didn’t need to yell to be heard.

I shook my head. “Hiking mountains wasn’t something I wanted to do before I had a hand-me-down heart. Looking at them is good enough for me.”

“No hiking dates. Got it.”

My cheeks were warm as I turned my head, fixing my attention outside the car. Something about the casual way he’d said that had my pulse sky-high. I closed my eyes, and instead of overthinking, I simply distilled all my thoughts into one singular direction.

What do you want, Ruby?

It was easy enough to answer, my gaze lingering again on his big body as he deftly handled the car, the way his hand held the top of the steering wheel and his other held my thigh.

We passed a sign for a rest area, and I squeezed his hand. “Are we on a time limit?” I asked.

“Not a firm one, why?”

I pointed at the sign, and he nodded easily. Behind the relative safety of my own sunglasses, I was able to study the hard lines of his profile. Those caused a tightening of my thighs, too, and another fluttering thing in my belly.

Lying in the dark of my room the night before—completely exhausted yet unable to sleep—I was able to logic myself through my wanton little display quite easily. It was effortless to do things like climb in Griffin’s lap because he’d made the chemistry between us feel equally effortless. Speaking up and saying what I wanted, for the first time in my life, didn’t feel like a hurdle to overcome. With him, I wasn’t paralyzed with worst-case scenario outcomes because the noise in my head was muted, like he’d single-handedly conjured the loud wind to drown out everything except what I really needed to hear.

Griffin removed his hand from my leg to hold on to the steering wheel as he eased the car off the highway and down the slightly curved path to the parking lots. It was a parking-only rest area, and other than a few semis on the far side of the lot, we were the only car there.

“Park over by those trees,” I told him, and with a nod, he obliged.

Once the car engine cut off, leaving just the sound of the highway behind us, both Griffin and I exited the vehicle. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his black joggers and joined me at the front of the car, where I attempted to fix my tangled mess of hair into a neater ponytail.

“You always have to stop this soon into a road trip? Remind me not to take you cross-country anytime soon.”

I exhaled a short laugh, then pushed my sunglasses onto the top of my head. Griffin followed suit, anchoring his glasses on the top of his hat, glancing up at the towering grove of trees where we’d parked. There were no mountain views here, not where we were standing, but we did have privacy, and with no clear idea of where this jaunt was ending up, I needed privacy more than anything.

Griffin stretched his arms, groaning in a way that tugged at the hair on the back of my neck. His T-shirt lifted, a glimpse of his hard stomach making the fluttery things return. Belatedly, I realized he was watching me watch him, and the grin on his face had my cheeks burning hot.

“Like something you see?” he asked lazily, seating himself on the hood of the car and spreading his legs out slightly.

An invitation, based on the glint in his eye.

I raised my chin an inch. “Yes.”

At my frank answer, his brows popped up. I let out a deep breath and moved between his spread legs. He closed them slightly, adding pressure to the outside of my thighs with his knees, and I swallowed against a dry throat.

“I took the day yesterday, like you asked,” I said. I found myself staring at his hands where they rested on his thighs. Staring at the curl of his big fingers, remembering with vivid clarity what they felt like inside me.

“And?”

The rough edge to his voice had me pinching my eyes shut for a moment, only opening them again when I felt a bit steadier.

“Did you know that regular sex not only improves your blood circulation, but studies have shown that it can reduce the risk of heart disease in women by up to fifty percent?”

His firm, beautiful lips stayed in a straight line, but oh, the way his eyes smiled—I felt it like a lightning bolt.

“No kidding. Any other interesting tidbits?”

“It’s a natural pain reliever too.” I stood straighter, inching closer to him, allowing my hands to rest on his forearms, curling my fingers around the smooth skin and roped muscles there. “Orgasms release oxytocin and endorphins into your system. It can even help with menstrual cramps.”

“Keep talking, birdy,” he whispered, easing his hands forward until they slid up the backs of my thighs. “I’m surprisingly turned on by talk of blood circulation and menstrual cramps.”

Even though he was teasing me, I licked slowly at my bottom lip, gratified when his pupils flared slightly. “You’d be good for my health, Griffin. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

A deep hum came from the back of his throat, and I wanted to hear it against my ear. Wanted to hear it while he held my hands down on the bed and worked my body until I was screaming so loud the neighbors could hear. My head was dazed and spinning, standing in the bright sunshine, no one to see us but the trees, and his hands slowly coasting over my backside to tug me even closer. He adjusted his seat on the car, bringing his hard body flush with my center.

“Not sure anyone’s ever said that to me before,” he said, eyes full of wondrous heat.

When I’d gotten dressed that morning, I had thought about touching him. I had thought about watching when he tipped over the edge of control, like I had in the bathroom—shuddering and gasping in the circle of his arms.

I leaned forward and placed a featherlight kiss on his lips, and when I pulled back, he rested his forehead on mine, his hands gripping me firmly around my hips. The hard press of his thumb into the sensitive skin just underneath my hip bone had me hissing in a breath.

Prying my eyes open, I looked down at his lap, at the impressive bulge underneath his joggers, and I licked my lips again.

“Why the hell are you looking at me like that, baby?” he whispered, raw and rough through gritted teeth.

I lifted my head and remembered what Lauren had said before he picked me up.

If I wanted to ... I should.

No matter what it was, and no matter how many times I might have talked myself out of it under normal circumstances.

“I owe you,” I whispered back, tugging slightly on the waistband of his joggers with curled fingers that brushed against the heated skin of his stomach. “Let me.”

“Fuck,” he groaned, tipping his head back. “What if someone drives back here?”

I placed a light kiss at the front of his throat, where the hard wedge of his Adam’s apple stood against his tan skin. He didn’t stop me, though.

On the contrary, Griffin helped me tug his pants down just far enough that we might not get arrested for indecent exposure. He braced one hand on the car, adding a slight barrier for anyone who might approach from that side. From a distance, we’d look like a couple embracing.

“You really want this?” he asked. “With me, I mean.”

I held his gaze unflinchingly. “Yes.”

Griffin exhaled, the sound as unsteady as any I’d heard from him, and eventually he nodded. “Who am I to say no to Ruby Tate?” he asked, and then he dropped his mouth to my neck and sucked at the sensitive spot where my shoulder curved.

When he was free of the confines of his pants, it was a really good thing he wasn’t looking at my face, because my eyes widened almost comically, my jaw hinging open.

If there was a part of my psyche still trapped in middle school, I would’ve run screaming from the sight of the absolute monster he was hiding in his pants. But considering the height and the big hands and the big feet ... he was very, very proportional.

I almost let out a panicked laugh, but blew out a slow breath and focused instead on the heat of his skin as I started exploring.

Griffin was nosing against my neck, licking lightly at my skin, grunting softly as he helped me wrap my fingers around his length.

“Like that,” he groaned. “You won’t hurt me, baby.”

I exhaled shakily, relishing the way he felt. Hard. So hard. Soft and smooth as I moved my hand. And beautiful, but I didn’t dare say that out loud.

My fingers wouldn’t touch as they wrapped around him, and there was something wildly intimidating about that, as was the way he tightened our intertwined grasp so much harder than I ever would’ve dared.

“What else do you want me to do?” I asked.

Griffin snaked his arm around my waist and brought us closer, fingers gripping my ribs under the mesh shirt, and with my hand between us, I worked him with small rolling motions of my wrist. When I tightened my grip, squeezing hard, he slanted his mouth over mine with a groan, his tongue seeking mine in a demanding sweep between my lips.

It felt so wicked, being kissed like this, with arguably the most beautiful penis in existence in my hand and Griffin King making helpless growling noises into my mouth.

I’d never felt wicked in thirty years on this earth, and wearing that mantle now scrambled something delicious in my brain. I don’t know what cosmic intervention brought this man back into my life’s path, but I wanted to send them a giant freaking thank-you basket.

I sucked lightly on his tongue, and he grunted into my mouth, pulling back from the kiss to tug at my wrist until my hand was up by his mouth. As he held my eyes, he licked a wide swath over my palm, and I gasped when he settled our joined hands around him again.

“That’s it,” he groaned.

“Tell me if this is good,” I begged, words tumbling out unchecked. “What do you think about when you do it to yourself?”

His eyes fixed on mine, color rising in his cheeks. “Lately? I think about you on my lap, baby.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah,” he groaned. “Wanna see that soon, pretty girl. Want to see you scream while I’m underneath you. Want to feel you fall apart when I’m inside you. Want that so fucking bad, even if I shouldn’t.”

The imagery, with his guttural, demanding voice narrating it, had me letting out a shaky breath. Maybe I was in over my head, but there was no way I was backing out of this now.

I wanted it. So I was going to do it.

I wanted him . So badly that I was trembling.

Our hands moved faster, and he sucked in a sharp breath. “Ruby,” he growled, “that’s it, baby.”

Griffin tipped back his head as he let out a low groan and came over our joined fingers. I stared down in awe, watching while he slowed the movement of our hands and worked himself through the last pulses of his pleasure.

He let out a shocked laugh, staring at me like he’d never seen me before. “Holy shit, Ruby Tate. You just blew my fucking mind with that one.”

I grinned, and he ducked down for a hot, searing kiss. When he pulled back, my head was spinning again.

“You’re trouble, you know that?” he whispered. We kissed again, luxurious and slow. “You just keep making me want more.”

The way he said it had me studying his face. At first, I couldn’t even pinpoint what I’d heard. Reluctance, maybe, and a hint of resignation.

“I’m guessing you don’t want me to return the favor while we’re out here,” he said, lips brushing mine softly.

Breathing out a laugh, I shook my head. “No. I just wanted to do that for you,” I told him.

He hissed in a breath. “Baby, you keep saying stuff like that, and I’ll have to give you one anyway.”

My breath was coming in short pants. “It’s okay, really.”

Griffin kissed me again—lingering and dirty and the kind of kiss that started things, not ended them. His hand slipped underneath my shirt, and he pulled back to watch my face while he dragged his thumb over the front of my sports bra. “I bet I could slip my hand right between your legs and have you moaning without laying a single finger on your pretty little—”

I slapped my hand over his mouth, and his eyes twinkled. “Later,” I told him. “Show me later. Now, maybe we should figure out how to clean each other up.”

I held up the other hand with a wry arch of my eyebrow, and Griffin’s muffled laugh behind my hand made me smile. He licked my palm, and I removed my hand with a scoff.

“Hold on,” he said, sliding off the car and tugging his pants back into place. He popped the trunk and fished out his gym bag, jogging back around to the front of the car to cradle my hand in his while he cleaned it off with a small white towel.

“Well, that’s handy,” I said primly, because watching him clean his own mess off my fingers was giving me a slight out-of-body experience. “Didn’t know you’d packed for a night out.”

He laughed. “Oh, we’re not gonna be gone overnight. We’re going to the gym.”

My brow furrowed. “What gym?”

Griffin kissed me again, smacking me firmly on the ass as he pulled away. “Team facilities. Team doctor and head trainer are meeting us there.” With a wince, he glanced at his watch. “We’ll be late at this point. I’m sure they won’t mind.”

My mouth hung open. “What?”

“Your fault,” he said smoothly. “I did not have hand job in the parking lot on the itinerary, but I’ll leave it up to you if you want to tell them that or not.”

I fixed him with a glare, and he laughed again.

“Come on, birdy. We’ve got another forty-five minutes until we get there. You keep glaring at me like that, and we’ll have another problem on our hands.”

“You are impossible,” I told him, sliding back into the car.

Griffin grinned, carefree and wind-blown and staggeringly handsome, as the car engine roared back to life. “Don’t I know it, Ruby.”