Page 99 of On The Rocks

Tamping down the annoyance, I got us plates and sat down kitty corner from her. “This going to be a problem?”

“No.”

She reached for the bacon. Evidently, that was the key to her heart—at least for today. She took a waffle off the top and wrapped it around two pieces of bacon with a dash of maple syrup, then took a bite out of it like a taco.

“I can take you to your Jeep after we eat.”

“Fine.” She tore off a bite and stared at the table.

“Christ.” I gripped the edge of the table. “Can we start over?”

“Sorry. She just had that Laverne sparkle in her eyes. I’ve seen it before. I just...” She huffed out a breath. “It’s bad enough I might have to say goodbye to everyone. This kind of pressure is too much.”

“Is it maybe because you don’t really want to go?”

Maybe it was too much to hope for. And it wasn’t fair to push on her.

She started to get up and I reached for her hand. “Sorry. That wasn’t fair.”

She was quiet, but she nodded and sat back down, the blanket fell off her shoulders and pooling around her hips. She tucked her legs up against her chest and looped her arms around her knees. “What if we just have the summer? Maybe the fall.”

“Then maybe that’s a good start.”

She relaxed. “Okay. That I can do.”

“I’ll take it.” And maybe, then I could convince her for more. “Plans for the day?”

“Laundry. Groceries and maybe the gym.”

“Well, I can be your workout.” I gave her a wink.

She rolled her eyes, but she nodded. “Maybe.”

“Sun is shining. How about we take your Jeep and take a drive? Then you can have your way with me in some secluded parking spot with a great view.”

“I could get behind that.”

“So could I.”

Chapter 21

Lennon

Put Me Down, Dammit

Dating was a new and unnerving part of my life.

It wasn’t all bad. Griffin made grocery shopping and laundry fun. I started leaving clothes at his house—which I’d never done in all my damn life. After long shifts, especially Saturday nights, it was nice to crash at his place. And Sundays had turned into relaxing day dates full of trips around the area. Since the taproom was closed on Mondays, we’d even done a few overnights.

This was my third season at the orchard, and I’d never looked around beyond the taproom or my little apartment. Griffin was all about exploring. We’d gone to a wine tasting, a concert in Syracuse—Hozier, thank you very much. He’d been on my list for a few years, but I rarely made space or time for entertainment that wasn’t part of a bar.

The Irish artist had blown me away, dragging out far too many emotions I hadn’t known what to do with. Instead of dealing with them, I’d banged the holy hell out of Griffin.

Songs about longing and an endless love weren’t in my wheelhouse. I wasn’t sure I wanted them to be, either. But being with Griffin made me wonder what it might be like.

And that scared me more than answering Richard Devon’s increasingly pressing question about the bar in Miami.

Luckily, the taproom left me little time to linger on that question. And the time out of the taproom was immersed with Griffin. Even the quiet moments were better with him.

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