If I wasn't careful, she'd be charmingme.
18
Compensation, Cranberry-Free
Maisie
Oh. My. God.I'd just made a total ass of myself – rambling like a malfunctioning Roomba about sex in cars and Lord knows what else.
Sure, I hadn't used the word "sex" outright, but it had been strongly implied.
By me.
With him.
Plus, I'd tried to throw out his laundry for God's sake.
And now I didn't know what to do.
A full hour had passed since I'd gone off the rails, and I'd seen no sign of Griff, not even a peek.
I glanced toward the door to the back room and felt the knot in my stomach tighten. I couldn't even recall if I'd shut the door myself on the way out or if Griff had shut it after me.
At this point, he was probably putting up a deadbolt.
Between customers, I'd been trying to stay busy – fixing displays, reorganizing the helmets, and mostly pretending that I wasn't reliving my stupid performance on a mental loop.
I glanced at the clock. Already, it was half past noon, and I'd given Griff no compensation for his work. I mean, yeah, I'd brought him coffee, but that was nearly nothing. And even with the expensive loaner bike, a single beverage hardly counted as real compensation.
I chewed on my lower lip.What if he quit?
And let's say he did, could I blame him?
Not really.
My gaze strayed to the little blue cooler that I'd tucked under the front counter. It contained three sandwiches – two for him and one for me. I'd packed Griff's sandwiches into a single paper bag, so he could eat them wherever he wanted.
I frowned with a sad realization.He couldn't eat them anywhere if I didn't hand them over.
I returned my attention to the connecting door. Hopefully he was still in the back room, but therewasthat rear exit.Surely, he hadn't escaped?
I stared at the door for way too long before letting out a resigned sigh.I'd have to face him eventually. And besides, those sandwiches weren't going to eat themselves.
I crouched, flipped open the cooler, and grabbed the paper sack containing his lunch. A moment later, I eased through the connecting door with the bag in-hand, half expecting to find him gone.
He wasn't.
Instead, he was crouched beside a half-disassembled bike, totally focused, sleeves shoved up, grease on his forearm. And okay – yes, maybe I noticed the way his jeans pulled snug over his hips as he leaned in to tighten the crankset with those ridiculously steady hands.
I gave myself a mental slap – not for making a fool of myself earlier, but for ogling his backsidenow.
Yes, I meant his ass.Thank goodness Beverly wasn't here – all grabby and giggly – because if things got out of control, maybe his hand wouldn't be the only thing she'd latch onto.
I rolled my eyes.Get a grip, will ya?Beverly might be rambunctious, but she would never do that – well, at least not without permission or a whole lot of tequila.
I knew this because she was a regular at Franny's weekly card games, and let's just say, shedidlike her margaritas.
I cleared my throat, looking to get Griff's attention.