Page 18 of Holding Out

She hesitated.“Uh, not sure.”

“Could I convince you to let me take you out to dinner next time?”

She should be thrilled about the invitation.CJ had green eyes and dimples and he seemed to actually give a shit about who she was as a person.“Um, sure,” she said.

“Here, you have your phone?I’ll give you my number, and you can text me if you’re planning to be in town.”

“Um ...”She’d left her purse, including her phone, in Alia’s office.“No, sorry.But if you give it to Alia, she’ll text it to me.”

He nodded.

“Nice meeting you,” she said, rising to her feet.

He rose, too, and reached out his hand.When she put hers out to shake, he took it in both of his and said, “Great meeting you.”

Something about the gesture felt—rehearsed.She took her hand back, relieved to walk away from him.

She was hoping Griff had been serious about his offer to teach her archery.She’d never had much interest in bows and arrows, or any form of weaponry, before, but she wanted to know more about what made Griff tick, and she knew archery was something that mattered to him.

She scanned the picnic-goers, looking for his rumpled hair and gray eyes, for the T-shirt that clung to his sculpted pecs, but she didn’t see him.She started a slow roam around the periphery of the picnic, stopping to greet people she knew, but she completed a circuit without finding him.

“Who are you looking for?”Alia had materialized from nowhere at her side.Or, probably not from nowhere.Becca’s attention had just been focused on her search.

She hesitated, and that split second was long enough to arouse Alia’s suspicions.Her eyes narrowed.“Who?”she demanded.

“Griff told me he’d teach me archery,” Becca said.

Alia’s expression relaxed.“Oh, yeah, Griff will take any opportunity to evangelize.”

“Did you see where he went?”

“If you can’t find him, try the range.”

Becca wandered in the direction Alia pointed her.As she approached the range, she saw him with the big bow in his arms, slinging arrow after arrow into the center of the target so they stuck out like bristling porcupine quills.

She hung back, watching.He wore a plastic chest guard and a leather arm guard, which made him look a little bit like some medieval hero.And she wasn’t sure which was more mesmerizing: the clutch of muscle in his back and shoulders, the cords in his forearm, or his absolute laser focus.

She imagined what it would be like to have all that intensity and concentration turned toward her.Thatprecision.Thatdevotionto his task.

Her body warmed and softened in appreciation.Which was unusual for her.She didn’t get turned onlooking.She didn’t get turned on that easily, period.She usually needed a lot of warming up.

Except, apparently, when it came to Griff Ambrose.

He reached into the quiver hanging across his body and came up empty.

“Hey,” she called.

He jumped.When he turned, the expression on his face was dark.Angry, she thought.

“Sorry—I didn’t mean to startle you.”

He crossed his arms.“I’ll do it.”

“What?”

She’d heard the words but couldn’t make sense of them.

“If you still want me to.If you haven’t already enlisted CJ or some otherboy.I’ll—take your V-card.”

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