Page 63 of The Mistake

“Hey, gorgeous.” He slides in the seat across from me and places a chocolate-chip muffin on the table. “I got you a muffin.”

Damn it, I guess he’d noticed me right when he’d walked in.

“Why?” I ask in suspicion, and without saying hi.

“’Cause I wanted to get you something, and you already have coffee. Ergo, muffin.”

I raise one eyebrow. “Are you trying to buy your way into my good graces?”

“Yup. And excellent pun, by the way.”

“I wasn’t punning. My name just happens to be a homonym.”

His blue eyes gleam as he downright smolders at me. “I love it when you talk homonyms to me.”

“Uh-huh.” I choke back a laugh. “I appreciate the gesture, but do you really think a muffin is going to wow me?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll buy you an entire meal when we’re out on our date.” He winks. “Anything you want off the menu.”

Damn him and his seductive winking powers.

“Speaking of that, when should we do it?”

I eye him warily. “Do what?”

“Go out.” His head tilts in a thoughtful pose. “I’m free tonight. Or any night, really. My schedule is wide open.”

God, this guy is incorrigible. And too damn gorgeous for his own good. His chiseled jaw is covered with scruff, as if he hasn’t shaved in a few days, and my tongue tingles with the urge to lick a path along the strong line of his chin. This is the first time I’ve ever wanted to lick a guy’sstubble. What is the matter with me?

“Congrats on your wide-open schedule,” I grumble. “But I’m not going out with you.”

Logan grins. “Tonight, or in general?”

“Both.”

We’re interrupted by the arrival of one of his friends. “Ready?” the guy asks Logan as he flips the top of his coffee cup.

“Go away, G. I’m wooing.”

His friend snickers, then turns to me. “Hey, I’m Garrett.”

Right. As if I don’t know who he is. Garrett Graham is a legend at this school, for fuck’s sake. He’s also incredibly good-looking, the kind of good-looking that brings a blush to my cheeks despite the fact I’m not even interested in the guy.

“I’m Grace,” I answer politely.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt.” He edges away, a barely restrained smile on his lips. “I’ll wait outside so my boy can keep, ah, wooing.”

“No need. We’re all done here.” I scrape my chair back and hop to my feet.

“We most certainly are not,” Logan mutters.

Amused, Garrett glances from me to Logan. “I took a mandatory conflict resolution seminar back in high school. Do you guys need a mediator?”

I pick up my coffee. “Well, the stenographer who follows me around is on a lunch break, but I can catch you up no problem. Logan asked me out, and I solved the conflict byrespectfully declining. There. I did all the work for you.”

Garrett laughs loud enough to attract the attention of everyone around us, including the three hockey players who wander over from the counter.

“What’s so funny?” Dean asks curiously. He notices me and offers a delighted smile. “Grace. Long time. I’m loving the hair.”

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