Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45251 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45251 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
At least he didn’t outright tell me to fuck off. That was something, right?
He took the lead, and I followed him out of the bar and onto the sidewalk.
The town had already milked the last of the heat out of summer, and now it was cold the moment the sun set. I folded my arms over my chest, regretting I hadn’t brought my jacket.
“So I bet this was a nasty surprise for you,” I said.
He hitched his brows a fraction and stuck his hands down the pockets of his jeans. “It wasn’t pleasant.”
Yeah. Thanks.
I clenched my jaw and averted my gaze for a beat. “Right. But can we find a way to make this work like we’ve done at the restaurant?” I glanced at him again. “I’m finally making friends out here, and it’s a good community. I don’t wanna walk away from that just because you can’t stand to be in the same room as me. For reasons you refuse to divulge, by the way.”
His brow furrowed at that. “First things first. Are you into kink?”
I shrugged and chewed on the corner of my lip. “I guess.”
“You guess?”
I shot him a scowl. What was this, twenty fucking questions? Why did he care?
“Fine—yeah, I am,” I said. “I’m not into high-protocol or too many rules, but I love primal play and CNC, and I identify as a Little.”
Tension ticked in his jaw, and he looked down and retrieved his smokes.
In the year I’d worked alongside him—slash for him—I’d come to learn he only smoked when he was stressed out. I’d heard stories too, from Adam. Stress was a big part of being a chef, but believe it or not, Griffin worked at Coho to relax. He didn’t let much get him worked up around there. The launch of a seasonal menu or the occasional asshole customer sent him outside for a cigarette. Maybe I’d been responsible for one or two as well.
My de-stress drug these days was taking a run.
Griffin lit it up and took a drag, and he glanced down the cobblestone street for a beat.
He looked to be fighting some internal war, and I just couldn’t understand why this was so difficult.
What the hell had I done?
“Can you please tell me what’s wrong with me?” I blurted out, with instant regret. Fuck. Way to make myself vulnerable to a man who could barely look me in the eye. I swallowed as he locked eyes with me, and now I had to go on. I couldn’t leave it there. “I must’ve said something at some point,” I continued. “Or acted in some way—for you to hate me so much.”
His jaw ticked again, and the corners of his eyes tightened. “I don’t hate you, Tracy.”
If this wasn’t hate, I didn’t wanna stand in the line of fire when he actually did hate someone.
It was fucking hurtful.
He exhaled smoke and scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m trying to come up with a way to say as little as possible, but if you think I hate you, I gotta explain myself.”
And he didn’t want that.
“Or you can just agree to a peace treaty,” I offered. If he didn’t wanna talk to me, so be it. As long as we could coexist. “Whether you hate me or just dislike me is irrelevant—”
“It’s not.” He shook his head and flicked away some ashes. “It’s not irrelevant. Contrary to what you might think, I’m not a coldhearted asshole.”
Uh.
Was he sure about that?
He sighed. “Tracy, you joined us at Coho when I was in the middle of fighting for a dying relationship.”
I stood straighter automatically, having only heard some bits and pieces about this. Alessia had told me about an ex named Charlie. She hadn’t been surprised one bit when they’d broken up.
Griffin let out a hollow chuckle and shook his head. “You know, when I saw you in there earlier, I wanted to tell you to fuck off and leave me alone. Instead, I’m standing here like a fucking idiot, telling you the reason you’ve pissed me off is because you’ve acted in a way my ex always told me he wanted to be. But he never was—and I don’t know why he lied about it.”
I…what?
“Acted what way?” I had to know.
He cleared his throat. “Act is the wrong word. How you are. Your love for small towns, your passions, your opinions… Whatever.” He made a face and averted his gaze again. “When he and I got together, he sang a different tune. He wanted to live here, he wanted to be more carefree, he wanted me to teach him to fish, he…” He waved it off. “Doesn’t matter. It was all bullshit.”
Okay, so…
I scratched the side of my head, and I had to look around us. Was I being pranked?
“I observed you at work,” he went on quietly. I snapped my gaze to his, like a rubber band refusing to stretch farther. His stare was still unreadable, but it was intense as fuck. “You pissed me off because you made me lose my energy to fight for him.”