Page 118 of Tangled Kisses
“Are you holding me so I don’t run away?”
He bends low, lips brushing my ear, the faintest graze against my neck. “No,” he murmurs, his voice rough, intense. “I’m holding you because I love the feel of you in my arms. Plus, I’m excited.”
Oh, boy. I think I’m at my quota for surprises this year.
Griffin releases my hand so he can jab the buzzer. Twenty seconds later, a woman’s voice crackles through the intercom, sharp with surprise.
“What in the world are you doing here?”
“Surprising you,” Griffin replies, tone smug.
“Oh, my God.” There’s a laugh behind the words, disbelieving but delighted.
I glance between him and the speaker, utterly lost. “What’s going on?”
“I brought someone with me,” Griffin adds, shooting me a quick look.
“I bet I know who it is,” the voice chirps.
That makes one of us.
A buzz sounds, and the lock clicks.
We step inside, the air cool and faintly scented with coffee and cinnamon. The condo is beautiful—wide open, with sun streaming through tall windows. Everything about the space feels thoughtful: wide doorways, no clutter, an easy flow that makes it clear the home was designed to be lived in comfortably. A Western warmth lingers in the décor—leather, wood, and color that’s cozy without trying too hard.
“I’m in the kitchen,” the same voice calls. “Come on back.”
I shoot Griffin a wary glance.
“Go ahead,” he says, giving me a gentle nudge.
My stomach knots as I step forward, certain every ounce of trepidation is written all over my face.
I round the corner into the kitchen, where a young woman sits at the table with a cutting board in front of her, deftly chopping vegetables.
Her face breaks into a sunny smile when she glances up.
“Griffin,” she beams.
He pulls off his hat as he crosses the room, revealing the sharp buzz cut above his beard.
The woman lets out a low whistle. “Whoa. Who are you?” She flicks a glance at me, eyes dancing. “Is this your doing?”
I lift both hands in surrender. “Nope. Not guilty.”
The woman laughs, shaking her head as she gazes up at Griffin. “Well, it works on you.”
“Pretty much everything does,” I mutter before I can stop myself.
Griffin’s mouth quirks, eyes warm as they meet mine, before he clears his throat. “This is?—”
“I know it’s Reese,” she cuts in, shooting me a knowing smile.
And it’s only then—when he leans down to hug her, his dark head bent close to hers—that I see it. The resemblance is undeniable: the same dark hair, the same piercing blue eyes, even the identical dimple flashing when she grins. Stunning, radiant, unmistakably his blood.
Of course. His sister.
The realization rams through me harder than I expect. Pearl isn’t just family—she’s the most important person in Griffin’s world. And he brought me here. To meet her.
