Into my ear, he said, "You're killing me. You know that, right?"
This wasn't the first time he'd said such a thing, and I couldn't stop my grin. "Yeah, but you love it."
Sounding way too cocky, he said, "I'm not theonlyone." He pulled me closer. "Admit it. You love it, too."
I didn't answer with words. Instead, I answered with my lips and hands – kissing his neck and caressing his back as I completely ignored the fact that I was supposed to be working.
But the shop had been slow all afternoon –crazyslow, probably because of the wind. It was a blustery day, slightly cool with the threat of rain. Sure, it wasn't raining yet, but the bell on the door hadn't jingled in ages.
We were safe. Probably.
And besides, that giant box I'd set on the front counter would block all of this from prying eyes, including Franny's, even if she walked up and stared through the front window.
I knew this because I'd personally checked, staring through the glass from the sidewalk outside. So yeah, I was being alittledevious – using a big empty box to block out the world – but these kisses were private, and I wanted to keep them that way.
We were still kissing when the bell jingled for the first time in forever. We froze. Both of us cursed – him out loud and me in my head.
Slowly, we peeked around the box – him from one side and me from the other.
I almost groaned out loud.
Damn it.
It was Devon and Sierra.
Again.
63
The Blonde Barnacle Returns
Griff
I should've known the make-out streak couldn't last.
Before the jingle of the bell, I'd been in heaven – with Maisie's lips pressed to mine and her hands roaming like they were on a treasure hunt and I was the prize.
But let's be honest here. The real prize washer.
Lucky for me, a dumbass named Devon had let Maisie slip through his fingers like a drunken sailor trading gold for gravel.
Maybe I should've been grateful. And yet, as I spotted him, standing just inside the door, with the blonde barnacle clinging to his side, gratitude was the last thing I felt.
What I felt was annoyance.
That fucker.
I wasn't jealous. Maisie wasn't the cheating type.
But her ex was bothering her.
And that was bothering me.
Next to me, Maisie whispered, "Let me handle it, okay?"
I gave her a look and didn't bother to lower my voice. "Why?"
She kept whispering. "Because you look mad."
