Page 61 of The Ampersand Effect

Her heart fluttered as she sent the text. Bubbles appeared almost instantly, bouncing along the bottom of the text screen.

GRIER—11:19 a.m.

Good to know you’re paying attention.

TOBIN—11:19 a.m.

It’s impossible to not pay attention to

you, Grier.

She’d unconsciously stopped to lean against a traffic light pole. As a jogger passed by with her dog, the pup gave her leg a curious sniff, drawing a surprised laugh. Her phone vibrated in her hand.

GRIER—11:22 a.m.

Noted. I’ll try to make sure you get a good

show.

Tobin’s mouth watered at the words she read. Their banter was unmistakably back in the realm of flirtation. Saturday could not come soon enough.

When Tobin arrived at the market on Saturday, jitters buzzedbeneath her skin. She hoped that getting her bearings around the stalls would help calm her nerves. She lingered by a storefront offering kombucha samples when a breeze swept through, laced with musky woods, patchouli, and bergamot—Grier’s unmistakable signature, arriving a heartbeat before she did.

She turned, catching sight of Grier before the woman noticed her. Grier was wearing light-wash slim-fit jeans that hugged her toned thighs, and a slightly oversized cream knit sweater that hung just low enough to cover the curve of her ass. Her chestnut hair was damp, pulled back into a French braid that she swung around to the front.

Tobin could have easily gotten lost in a daydream about how her ass looked under that sweater, but Grier suddenly noticed her. Tobin became consumed, instead, by her amber eyes, the dark centers flickering as they locked on hers. She caught the joy in Grier’s gaze before it dipped down to her perfect mouth—inviting and smiling.

She waved as Grier approached, then fisted her hands in the pockets of her bomber jacket. Were they supposed to hug? Was that awkward? They’d shared definite flirtations through text, but both were here under the agreement that this wasn’t a date.

Grier answered for her, reaching out to squeeze Tobin’s biceps in a warm, friendly manner. “It’s good to see you walking upright again.”

Tobin couldn’t stop smiling. Grier was here—with her, touching her, smiling.

“Yes. I found a great chiropractor. Really knew how to use her hands.” Tobin simmered, the urge to press the limits of flirtation clawing at her.

Grier threw her head back and loosed a full, hearty laugh. Tobin watched the lines of her neck stretch with delight, clenching her hands to stop herself from reaching out to tracethem with her fingers. The smile across her face felt plastered in place, but real. It warmed Tobin to know Grier had put it there.

“Well, do we have an agenda for our shopping endeavors this morning? Or are we just walking and hoping something inspires us?” Grier asked, her eyes never losing their smile.

“I have a list. But first, we should get some coffee and a snack— lunch won’t be ready for a few hours.”

“I like the way you think. Feeding me is always the first right answer. I can get a bit… hangry.” Grier winked at Tobin, and her mouth went dry. A simple wink, and Tobin could feel a chink in her finely crafted armor. This woman was going to be the end of her.

Perma-grin intact, Tobin somehow found the ability to answer Grier. “I seem to recall a speech that included such interests as doughnuts and root beer floats. I happen to know there’s a vendor here who has a root beer float doughnut that is… well, you’ll have to try it for yourself.”

Grier stood taller, calling on all her height to meet Tobin’s eyes, which were still several inches above hers. “You really have been paying attention, haven’t you?”

“It was exceedingly difficult to pay attention to anything other than you that night. In that dress.”

Their eyes locked, neither blinking. Tobin was barely remembering to breathe; staring into the swirling embers of Grier’s amber eyes had her entire body cemented in place.

“Your choice of wardrobe was hardly forgettable that evening,” Grier purred, and Tobin swore she could feel the vibration of her voice trail across her skin.

“Yeah?” She was sluggish, struggling to formulate sentences. She was lost in amber eyes and purring words—and she wanted to be lost in so much more. Anything this woman would offer her.

“Tobin?” Grier’s voice shifted, steadier, more commanding. But it didn’t matter, she was still lost to her eyes.

“Hmm?”