That Second Chance (Getting Lucky #1)(44)

I nonchalantly shrug. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“You’re playing with fire, Knightly. You should be very scared.”

Oddly enough, I’m terrified right now as she smiles mischievously at me, but for completely different reasons.





CHAPTER TWELVE





REN


Okay, this might have been a bad idea.

When I said I wanted to help around town and meet new people, I wasn’t expecting to feel like a walking zombie on a Sunday morning.

The sun isn’t even up, so I flip on my phone light and make my way down the street toward Main. Every light in Griffin’s house is off, and I swear, if this was all one big joke, and I’m the only one hightailing it down the streets of Port Snow to do some town beautification, I’m going to be pissed.

But what a good hazing prank.

No! I will be pissed.

A little chilly, I pull the sleeves of my sweater down over my hands and make the turn toward Main, the waves crashing against the rocky coast echoing in the quiet early-morning air.

It’s so peaceful at this hour, just the sounds of the ocean and the occasional squeaky shop sign swaying in the breeze.

I make my way down toward the harbor; beyond the rows of beautiful potted plants hanging from the wrought iron streetlights, there’s a high-powered lamp lighting up the picnic tables and a man with a water pressure gun spraying down the area. There is a small group of people gathering to the side, holding on to cups of coffee. I’m relieved to see this wasn’t a hazing moment.

As I draw closer, I can make out some familiar faces: Brig, Rogan, Jake, Ruth, Rylee, and her husband, Beck. They’re all huddling together while Griffin power washes the concrete. How long has he been out here? It’s 4:55 a.m.; the picnic tables already look dry, and it seems like he’s on the last portion of the concrete.

Does this man ever sleep?

He stayed at my house the other night until eleven helping me with my chairs, a project that was much larger than I’d ever expected. I’d really wanted to do it on my own, but once I’d seen all the pieces I had to put together, I’d realized the instruction manual wasn’t lying when it called for two people to do the job. Imagine that.

We spent the night ribbing each other, joking around, and arguing only a little when it came to putting some pieces together.

It felt right, like we’ve been friends forever.

Quickly Griffin has become the guy I’ve started to lean on in this town, the guy I want to see everywhere I go, the guy who always makes me happy when he’s around.

I just wish there were a little more between us.

I’m not so naive I don’t notice when he looks at me with that primal male stare, the one that soaks up every inch of my body, the one that speaks of naughty thoughts, but for some reason, nothing ever happens.

After every interaction, he takes off with a quick wave, departing abruptly without much to say. It’s odd. We have such a good time, and then all of a sudden, it’s like something hits him in the head, and he can’t flee quickly enough.

And when he showed up at my door with pizza and an offer to help with the chairs, I thought that maybe, just maybe, something might spark between us. But when he made no move, I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d been reading him wrong this entire time.

Maybe I have been.

Maybe I’ve been misinterpreting his looks.

Maybe I’ve been living in a fantasy.

“Good morning,” Jake says, walking up to me with a cup of coffee. “Thanks for coming out to help.”

I try to hold back the yawn that wants to pop out, but it’s useless. I cover my mouth, but Jake sees before I can hide it.

“Early, I know, but the scones and coffee will be worth it.”

I take the cup from him and hold it up as a thank-you. “I work for free food. It’s how you can get me every time.”

“If that’s the case, how about some free crab cakes for cleaning my fryer?”

I pat him on the shoulder as I blow on the steaming coffee. “I’m not that desperate, Jake.”

He snaps his fingers in disappointment. “Damn it.”

“Good morning.” Rylee and Ruth stroll over with a plate bearing scones in all different flavors, the aroma making me think the early wake-up might just be worth it. “There is apricot, raspberry, cinnamon chip, and of course blueberry.”

Ruth hands me a napkin, and I contemplate which one to take. “They all look so good. Which one do you think I should take?”

Perched on the back of a pickup truck, hauling soil, Beck calls out, “Take the apricot.”

Rylee shakes her head. “He’s just saying that so you don’t take the blueberry, which is his favorite. We have a sitter watching the babies right now, so he’s feeling a little rambunctious.”

“Maybe I’ll take the blueberry, then.” I glance over at Beck; his mouth hangs open in shock. I laugh. “Just kidding. I won’t take your precious blueberry. I’ll go for the cinnamon chip.”

“Smart choice,” Brig says, stepping over to us as Ruth hands me the pastry. “Griff had one already this morning. That’s his favorite.” Oddly, Brig wiggles his eyebrows at me.

The power washer shuts off, and when Griffin looks up, his eyes immediately lock on mine, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. He waves before setting the power-washer handle off to the side, wrapping up the hose in a tight circle. And when he walks toward us, I can’t seem to tear my gaze away. There’s a swagger in every step he takes, purpose in his gait.