What If (If Only.... #2)(31)

I yank open the passenger-side door and climb in. Wide-eyed but grinning, Griffin waits for me to say something.

“I don’t want to date you,” I say, repeating what I keep telling him, keep telling myself.

“I know. We have an agreement. I was there when we made it.” His confidence doesn’t falter, but his words are painted with a slight edge he means for me to hear.

I rub the chill from my arms, and Griffin starts the truck.

“For the heat,” he explains.

“I know about our agreement, but that doesn’t mean you get to waltz in here with this sort of anti-grand gesture and knock me on my ass.”

He lets the mask fall, and there he is—him.

“Knock you on your ass? Maggie, I didn’t mean…”

“I know. This is uncharted territory. So you know what that means.”

He sighs. Because he knows.

“Ground rules?” he asks.

“Ground rules.”

“Lay them out for me,” he says. “Let me know how this works.”

I maneuver to my knees, my hands fisting in his jacket.

“Rule number one. Never, ever say good-bye without kissing me.”

His brown eyes darken almost to black.

“Did I knock you on your ass?” I ask.

“Yeah, Pippi.” His voice is low and gravely. “You did.”

“Good.” I run a hand through his hair, my itching palm finally getting its fill. “We’re even.”

He waits for me to come to him, and I press my lips to his, taste what I’ve been hungry for all week. But it’s more than just him. I taste his hunger, too. So we linger while the truck heats up, while his warm breath mingles with mine. For a few moments, it is the perfect kiss good-bye.

If only I knew what came after rule number one.





Chapter Ten


Griffin


I call the coffeehouse at three and recognize her voice as soon as she answers.

“Royal Grinds, may I help you?” she asks, her voice rushed and breathless, and I have to shake my head to remind myself that she’s at work and not half naked in my bathroom.

“Uhhh, don’t you mean Grounds?” I ask. “Though I’m kind of thinking I like your version better. I mean, who doesn’t want a royal grind?” So much for burying the naked thoughts.

“Shit. I’m sorry. Shit! I didn’t mean to swear. I mean, can I help you?”

Shit.

“Maggie. It’s okay. I was a dick. I shouldn’t have corrected you.”

For a few seconds, nothing but silence. Then, “Griffin?”

My name is a question but one filled with relief. “Maggie?”

A sigh, and then, “Oh, thank goodness. Miles knows I hate to answer the phone. I never get it right, but the line is so long. Some weird afternoon rush, and I’ve already messed up four drinks. But he’s with the last person in line now, and I grabbed the phone so he could finish. Anyway, I’m kind of just vomiting out words now, so yeah.”

I lean back on my leather recliner, happy to listen to her flustered verbal vomit for as long as it takes. In the silence that follows I remind myself why I called in the first place.

“Hi,” I say.

“Hi.”

“So. We don’t have a date tonight.”

She laughs, a quiet sound but not hidden. “No. We don’t.”

“Which is good,” I tell her. “Because if it was a date, I might be worried about what we should do, make sure I get everything right.”

Another laugh, this one not muted. “And I might be worried about smelling like a bottomless pot of coffee, or that I’ll fall asleep in middle of the evening because I’ve been up since five.”

“Oh,” I say, realizing I’ve only been thinking about tonight from my perspective. But shit. I didn’t consider this. I think about giving her another out, but she speaks before I can offer it to her.

“So what are we not doing tonight?” she asks, keeping up the game, which gives me the confidence to jump back in.

“That’s exactly why I called. I need a short inventory. If this was a date, what kinds of things would be deal breakers, which would guarantee you’d say no to a second date?”

“Oooh!” she says. “This is good. Um, how about, guy asks me out only to take me to his apartment to play video games. And for dinner, a frozen pizza.”

“This deal-breaker dude sounds like a cheap *.”

“Hey, I’m all for a good pizza,” she says, “but the frozen ones are full of additives that can really mess with your system.”

“A girl who’s careful about what she puts in her body. I see.”

“High maintenance, right?” she asks. “Good thing you’re not dating her.”

This time I laugh, but her answers already start to rearrange themselves into a plan. For our non-date.

“Video games are a deal breaker?” A guy’s gotta double check.

“Totally.” Her one word is a challenge, one that I eagerly accept. But now I’m pressed for time and need to get moving if I’m going to make this work.

“See you in an hour, Pippi.”

“Fifty-five minutes, Fancy Pants. Not that I’m counting.”