Page 39 of Fighting the Forbidden

“Come on. Let’s get you something to drink.” He presses his hand between my shoulder blades and steers me through the house into the kitchen.

Still coughing, I set the bag of cute but deadly cookies on the counter. Griff grabs a carton of milk from the fridge, fills a glass halfway, and hands it to me.

I take a few cautious sips, relieved when the annoying tickle in my throat subsides and I can breathe again without hacking. “Thanks,” I wheeze. Why do I always do something embarrassing in front of Griff?

“You all right?” He crowds into my space, touching my elbow. Concern brews in his eyes. His square jaw’s dusted with stubble that I want to brush my fingers against.

“I’ll live.”

His gaze drops to my chest, and a knowing smile spreads across his face. “Hey, isn’t that mine?” He pinches the sleeve of my sweatshirt and gently tugs.

I set the almost empty glass of milk on the counter with a soft thunk.

“Do you want it back?” I grip the bottom of the sweatshirt and pull it up an inch, keeping my gaze focused on Griff’s face.

He swallows hard, his eyes glued to the hem as I tease it up and down. His relentless attention twists me in knots. What will he do next? Kiss me? My lips part in anticipation.

He runs his hand over his chin. “No. You can keep it.” His voice drops to a deeper-than-usual rumble as he slowly drags his gaze to my face again. “I like how you look in my sweatshirt.”

“You do?” I release the fabric and curl my fingers around the ends of the ties at my neck, pulling them from side to side.

“Yeah.” A slow and utterly cocky grin lights his face as he seems to emerge from his trance. “Why do you think I let you steal so many of my hoodies?”

“Steal?” I widen my eyes with fake outrage. “How dare you. I borrow.”

“And never return.” His teasing expression fades. “It doesn’t matter, Molly. You can have anything of mine you want.”

Even you?

If only I were brave enough to ask that question. Instead, I voice a different one. “Does that include Black Beauty?”

Shock widens his eyes for a second, then his expression turns thoughtful. “Yeah. If you really want her, I’ll give her to you for graduation.”

For a second, I can’t breathe. And it’s not from choking on cookie crumbs this time. Griff loves that car. He restored it himself. He jokes that I helped him do the rebuild, but he’s being kind. All I did was watch and drool over how hot he looks working with his hands.

“I…I could never take your car, Griff. I was only kidding.” I can’t believe he said that. He barely hesitated too.

“Who said take? I said I’d give her to you.”

“You love that car.”

“I…” A thousand years seem to pass while I wait for him to finish the thought. “…know you’d take good care of her.”

“It doesn’t matter. I still don’t have my license.” I shrug, then slant a look his way. “If I’m ever able to afford a car, I was thinking…” I bite my lip. Will he think this is dumb?

“What?” he prompts.

“I’d like to restore a ’71 Malibu Coupe.” I shrug and lower my voice. “With you.”

“Yeah? So, a fancier version of my car?” A teasing smile slips over his face. “I’d love to work on that project together. Then we’d have a matching set.”

Yes, that’s the point.

“I’ll keep an eye out. See if I can get my hands on one in decent shape.”

More time in the garage with Griff.

Don’t faint. Be cool.

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