Page 153 of Dating Goals
“Griffin, I haven’t showered in…well, I can’t remember.”
He tugs me closer. “I spent fifteen years in hockey locker rooms. Trust me, you smell like a spring meadow in comparison.”
“I’m serious,” I protest, even as he pulls me into his arms. “I’m a biohazard.”
“Anika,” he says, his voice dropping low. “I flew across an ocean just to hold you. I’m not waiting another minute.”
And just like that, my heart liquefies completely.
Then, his lips are on mine, and everything else melts away. My embarrassment, the watching eyes, the fact that I’m probably leaving a grease print on his pristine jacket. None of it matters when I’m in his arms.
“Mach Platz!” Lars suddenly shouts, clapping his hands. “Make room!”
Colin and Evan spring into action, pushing tables and chairs to the edges of the room to create a makeshift dance floor in the center of S’Holzfass.
A gritty fuzzed-out guitar riff fills the bar, and I immediately flash back to that embarrassing first meeting at Walter’s cabin. I spin around to see my mother at the bar, holding the stereo remote with a mischievous grin as “One Way or Another” blasts through the ancient speakers.
Griffin wags his brows. “They’re playing our song.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “You!”
“I might have put in a song request.” He shrugs, looking adorably sheepish. “I texted your mom from the train.”
“The bathroom song?” I can feel heat rising to my cheeks. “From when we first met?”
“May I have this dance?” he asks, reaching for my hand.
“I should warn you,” I say as Griffin pulls me into the center of the room. “I take my ’80s dancing very seriously.”
“Oh, I know,” he says as I launch into my Molly Ringwald dance.
His dimples deepen as he drags his gaze down my body, then back up to my eyes. Then, fueled by whatever crazy energy he brought with him, he joins me, stepping side to side, swinging his arms, and bouncing on his toes.
I raise my brows. “Not bad.”
“I like to call this The Carlton,” he says with a big grin.
“You’re ridiculous,” I giggle, but I can’t stop.
The song hits its chorus, and the entire bar seems to vibrate with energy. Evan and Colin each grab one of my mother’s hands, tugging her onto our makeshift dance floor as she laughs and laughs. I haven’t seen her this happy in years.
“S’Holzfass hasn’t been this lively since the ’90s!” my mother shouts over the music, twirling past me with her arms outstretched.
Oh how I wish Father could see us now.
Some curious villagers who were peeping through the windows have wandered in now, drawn by the music and the impromptu dance party.
“S’Holzfass After Dark is officially open!” Lars announces, leaping behind the bar. He immediately starts his routine, flipping bottles over his head, juggling cocktail shakers, and setting something on fire that definitely shouldn’t be on fire.
Griffin spins me around, and I crash against his chest, breathless and giddy. His hands find my waist, steadying me.
“Are you sure about this?” I ask, looking up at him. “Taking me with you to Toronto? Splitting your time between two continents?”
Instead of answering with words, Griffin cups my face in his hands and kisses me. It’s soft and sweet at first, then deeper, more urgent. The room and everyone in it fades away until there’s nothing but Griffin, his lips on mine, his hands in my hair.
“One way or another,” Griffin murmurs against my lips, “I was always going to find you. Even if it took a high-stakes poker game, crashing your blind date, and skiing off a cliff to make it happen.”
I throw my head back laughing. “The spy who loves me.”
