Page 41 of Barefoot Dreams
“Sorry, I spaced out for a second.”Mm-hmm, we’ll call it that, okay?
“I’m sorry, you must be tired after working the whole day.” He winces, that hand of his already rubbing the back of his neck. “I shouldn’t have just dropped by like that. Um, I’ll just…go.”
“Is that takeout from Peace Out diner?” I squint, stopping him before he has a chance to turn and flee.
“It is.” Griff holds it up. “I thought the least I could do is pay you back with dinner for that magical coffee you made this morning.”
If I didn’t know better, I would say Griffin is blushing, and it sets a tingling sensation in my stomach.
I’m sure that’s not it but try stopping my naive heart.
“Please make your way inside because you’re not leaving now.” I motion for him to come in and an amused expression takes over his features.
“Good to know food is still the way to your heart,” he chuckles.
“Always and forever,” I agree. “You can set it all up on the coffee table or the window. Whichever you prefer. I’m just gonna go grab a quick shower.”
Griffin stops dead halfway toward the kitchen. “Shower? Um”—he clears his throat—“yeah, okay. No problem.” I’m almost at the bathroom door when I hear his quiet mumbled, “Fucking hell…”
Five minutes later, my wet hair in a top knot, I’m eagerly tearing at the container as my stomach rumbles shamelessly and I blush.
“Sorry, I haven’t really eaten today.”
“Then I’m glad I stopped by with this,” Griff says, and I’m glad he didn’t try to reprimand me for not eating better or sooner. It’s like he knows it wouldn’t go over well with me.
“Me too.” I smile. “So, how did today go?”
“It was great, actually,” Griffin tells me. “Frank didn’t ask a single question when I showed up, just handed me the employee forms and started showing me around. He signed me up for a few training classes over at Santa Cruz but with my background, I apparently, don’t need that much.”
“See? I told you.” I nudge him with my shoulder, and he gives me that signature smile of his. Dimple and all.
“Yeah, but I’m still convinced it was your magical drink that contributed to it.”
“Whatever you need to tell yourself.” I laugh but it dies on my tongue the second I open the container. “Is that…” I gape at the contents of my takeout box.
“Caramelized pear, chicken, and apple sandwich on a lavender toast? Yep, it is.”
I open and close my mouth. A few times. “You should go buy a lottery ticket.”
“Why?”
“Because this was the luckiest guess ever and you nailed it!”
Griffin chuckles, unwrapping his own steak sandwich. “No guessing involved. I just got it for you and that’s it.”
“Well, you still managed to get the one thing I love the most on their menu.”
“I know,” Griffin states simply, as if he didn’t just say he knew what my favorite sandwich was.
I feel my eyebrows pulling together. “You knew?”
“Mm-hmm.” He takes a bite of his food and almost immediately a low, guttural moan follows.
The kind that wakes every part of you, setting off a chain reaction of blush, tingling sensations and wetness pooling between your thighs.
What we were talking about just now because, for the love of lavender, I can’t remember.
“I swear no one else knows how to make sandwiches like Kale does. And I’ve tried many places in just as many countries over the years,” Griffin says, and I duck my head down.
