Page 82 of Tangled Kisses
Piper arches a brow. “And now you’re lying.”
I bury my face in my hands. “Yep. I totally am.”
Griffin says all the right things, treats me like a princess, and looks at me like I hung the stars. Mostly, I believe he’s genuine in his affections.
But then doubt creeps in. What if Griffin went rushing in, convinced he felt one way, and now realizes he doesn’t? I’ve done that before—thought I was falling for someone, only to figure out later they fit better in the friend box.
And he’s too good a man to just walk away. Too kind to cut me off clean. Maybe all these dinners, all these movie nights, are just his way of letting me down easy.
Or I could be reading into it and none of that is true.
Doesn’t matter, anyway. My heart’s already drowning in him.
Piper nudges my leg with her boot, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Maybe he’s waiting foryouto make a move. Ever think of that? Just march over there and attack him. See what happens.”
I scoff at her suggestion, rolling my eyes. “Piper.”
“What? I’m serious. Some guys need a green light. And Griffin? I get the feeling he’d enjoy it. What’s the worst that can happen?”
Is she serious? Because I have a list of things that can occur if my pass-making abilities with Griffin go south.
Alonglist.
Like destroying the best friendship I’ve ever had. Or making every shared glance, every touch, every movie night suddenly feel like a mistake.
“Ugh,” I groan, pushing myself to standing. My fingers rake through my hair, tugging a little too hard as if that could quiet the noise in my head. “I have to get back to work before my brain eats itself alive.”
“Make the move, sis.”
“Easy for you to say.” I cross my arms tight over my chest, trying to hold in the restless energy buzzing under my skin.
“Go now. You’ll thank me later.”
“He’s not here. He left early to install a window for a customer.”
Piper shrugs, smug. “Then be waiting when he gets back. Make sure he has something delicious to come home to today.”
I’m still replayingPiper’s parting words in my head—make the move, sis—when her familiar hobble echoes down the hall. She rounds the corner, boot clunking against the tile, and plops herself against my office doorframe with a dramatic sigh.
“No, I haven’t gone and attacked Griffin yet,” I mutter before she can open her mouth.
Her brows lift. “Yeah, well, someone beat you to it.”
My pen stills over the chart. “What?”
“Some lunatic client chopped off a chunk of his hair. Dorian had to buzz the rest.”
My stomach twists. “Wait, aclient?”
Piper nods, her expression clouding. “Yeah. Psycho wanted a souvenir, I guess. Sadly, that’s the dark side of this kind of work. Some people think they own you.”
The words hit like a slap. Griffin told me he quit. Told me he wasn’t doing that anymore. And now this?
Shit. Is that why he hasn’t touched me? Because he’s still turning tricks on the side?
My thoughts flit to the woman at the bar and the way she laid her hands on him like she owned him. But she’s one of many. One of—God, don’t think about it—hundreds.
Enough, Reese. Worry about that later.
