Page 42 of Griffin

Ivy rolls her eyes.

“She wasdrinkingyou in, Griffin. She wants you.” Ivy watches me, a sparkle in her eyes. “Plus, you seem like you know her well already.”

I meet Ivy’s eyes, and she arches her eyebrow. I feel like she’s challenging me to tell her the truth like she did with me about her one-night stand.

Fury prickles under my skin at the thought of anyone touching Ivy, but I push it away, reminding myself how inappropriate it is.

“Maybe.”

That’s all she’s getting, but it’s enough to see a flash of something in her eyes. Our gazes meet, and Ivy leans back into her seat, crossing her arms.

“So, you and the waitress have history.”

It sounds tacky coming from Ivy, but I spin her words back on her.

“Hey, we all have needs, right?”

Ivy’s eyes widen, and I fight the urge to reassure her, wondering what the fuck is going on.

This is my friend’sdaughter. Like she gives a shit who I’ve fucked.

“Here you go,” Christina says, reappearing with a smile and the bill.

Scrawled on the bill is her number, and she taps it with her nail for emphasis.

“You haven’t called in a while, so I wrote it down for you.”

Christina is confident and doesn’t so much as look at Ivy as any kind of competition.

Because she’s not, she’s too young for you.

But Ivy looks pissed.

Her eyes flicker over Christina as I pay the bill, and I feel awkward as fuck.

“Thanks for dinner,” Ivy says curtly, rising to her feet.

Christina winks at me before walking away, attending to other customers.

Ivy is already heading towards the door, and I groan inwardly.

How is she pissed off?

“Ivy,” I call after her, following her out of the door. “Hey.”

Ivy stops by my truck, twisting around so I can see the sadness in her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, standing in front of her with nothing but desire for the woman in front of me.

“Nothing.” Ivy shrugs and tugs open the truck door. “Are we done here?”

She gets in and slams the door, staring down at her phone as I walk around to the driver’s side, wondering what the fuck to say.

If Ivy is pissed off that I agreed to a date with Christina, that is all kinds of fucked up.

So I ask her.

“Are you mad at me?” I turn to stare at her side profile, her gorgeous fucking side profile. Ivy looks up at me, her expression unreadable.

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