But I didn't care.
This wasmybusiness. And while I still had it, I could do anything I wanted. So I slept in his arms, peaceful and spent – until I dreamed of someone pounding on the door.
What door?
I had no idea – until I slowly realized something. Itwasn'ta dream.
And I was alone.
Maybe.
Still half-asleep, I whispered his name. "Griff?"
41
Not That Kind of Pounding
Griff
I woke to the sounds of pounding – one hard knock, then another, and then three in a row, fast and sharp.
I froze. For a moment, I couldn't place where I was. This wasn't my bed, my room, or my city. My feet were tangled in a sleeping bag. The air smelled like chain grease with a hint of rain.
But all of this took a back seat to therealkicker.Someone was curled against my chest – someone warm, soft, and breathing steadily.
Maisie.
And just like that, it all came flooding back.The tent. The shop. Last night.
I heard another knock, this one louder.
Maisie stirred beside me with a groggy sound that hit straight in the chest. I tightened my arm around her naked body for half a beat before sliding free, my instincts already firing.
It was the middle of the night, and someone was pounding on the front door – assuming itwasthe middle of the night. In the windowless space, it was hard to tell.
Recalling the power outage, I squinted in the darkness until my eyes adjusted and shapes came into focus. There was at leastsomelight, sparse as it was, filtering in through the fabric of the tent, which meant the power was back up and running.
As far aswhenthe outage had ended, I had no idea.
Aside from the pounding, I heard nothing outside the tent – no rain on the rooftop, no thunder cracking above. No nothing. The storm, it seemed, had finally passed.
"Griff?" Maisie whispered, her voice scratchy with sleep.
"Yeah, it's me." I finally spotted the vague outline of my jeans, wadded in the corner. "Wait here, alright?"
She sat up. "But I think someone's at the door."
No kidding."I know. Hang on, I'll check it out."
"What time is it? Do you know?"
"No, but I'll check that, too."
"Oh, my God," she groaned. "What if it's a customer?"
I did the math. "I doubt we sleptthatlong."
"Oh, right." She paused. "I mean…that would have to be like twelve hours. No, fourteen." Again, she hesitated. "Right?"
