Page 54 of Fighting the Forbidden

We stop at his bike, and he faces me. “I missed you. Told Mr. Nelson I’d be taking a long lunch break this afternoon.”

My heart flutters. As far as I know, Griff always eats lunch at the garage in between jobs. “I don’t have to be at work until four.”

“We can stop for dinner or something if you want.”

“Sure.” My voice wobbles. Why? Griff and I have grabbed fast food together before. But everything feels so different after the other night. I step closer, so we’re almost touching. “How are you?”

He tips his head and one corner of his mouth lifts. “A lot better now.”

“Me too.”

“Come on.” He nudges the helmet in my hands. “We probably have enough time to stop at Busy Beans for a sandwich. And maybe a muffin to take with you for break time.”

I don’t have the heart to tell him I don’t get a break on the nights I only work three-hour shifts. Plus, I really want that muffin. Instead, I strap on the helmet and Griff helps me secure my backpack.

He straddles the motorcycle first. And oh, the thrill that runs through me when I rest my hand on his broad shoulder and boost myself onto the seat behind him. Some of my classmates—and a few teachers—stop and stare as Griff fires up the bike. But I don’t care. I curl my arms around his middle and sit up straight. He reaches back and clamps his big hand over the outside of my thigh, checking that I’m secure. But his hand lingers. I squeeze him tighter and he slides his hand to my knee, his warm touch seeping through my jeans.

“We can go to the house instead!” I shout.

He shakes his head and releases my leg.

A few seconds later we rocket out of the parking lot.

Busy Beans is slow this time of the day, too late for lunch and too early for the dinner crowd. Griff and I walk right up to the counter.

The manager, Brantley, greets us and raises two expectant eyebrows, waiting for our order.

“Um… give me a second,” I mutter.

Brantley taps his fingers on the counter. Too bad. The lighting is so weak, I can barely read the chalk menu above Brantley’s impatient head.

“Turkey on a pesto bagel with mayo and sprouts,” I finally say.

“Toasted?”

“Lightly.”

“I’ll have the same thing,” Griff says.

“Be right back.” Brantley whips around and stalks toward the back counter to assemble our meals.

“Copycat.” I tease Griff, bumping my elbow against his side.

“Didn’t want to risk his wrath and take too long.” Griff gives a fake shiver. “Scary dude.”

“I kind of miss seeing Aubrey here,” I whisper.

Griff coughs and glances away. “I actually ran into Aubrey this morning.”

“You did? Were you at Strike Back?”

“Yup. Met your brother there before he opened the bar.”

I run my gaze over him. “Wish I’d been there to see that.”

He lifts an eyebrow.

“You.” My cheeks burn. “To see you working out. Not my brother.”

---