I was still looking when his fiancée gave a sneering little laugh. "Secrets, huh? Let me guess – matching tattoos?"
Griff had at least one tattoo that I knew of – that one on his arm. Happily, it was the arm currently wrapped around my waist, or I surely would've looked.
Griff responded for both of us in a tone that was half-teasing, half-sin. "Wouldn'tyoulike to know."
As I turned to study his face, I felt my brow wrinkle in confusion. Griff wasn't looking at What's-Her-Face. He was looking at Devon, who just stood there like a yacht club mannequin.
Griff's gaze didn't waver. With no trace of a smile, he said, "You've been quiet."
Devon paused for a long awkward moment before entering the conversation with a single word. "Me?"
"Yeah. You." Griff's voice hardened. "You got something to say?"
"Uh...no?"
"So you're just here to lurk."
Devon flushed, making his tan look more like a burn. "What? No."
Griff speared him with a look. "So tell me. What'syourstory?"
27
Outnumbered No More
Griff
Next to me, Maisie felt soft and sweet, but she wasn't relaxed.Not yet. I could feel it in her shoulders and see it in her profile as she faced off against two people she obviously knew.
It was hard to say which one she knew better – the chatty girl or the silent guy. Either way, she had been far too outnumbered for my liking.
Not anymore.
I locked eyes with Mister Quiet. "So tell me. What'syourstory?"
I hadn't planned on stepping in. I'd been in the back, stacking tools and minding my own business – until I'd caught bits of conversation that had made me stop and listen.
What I'd heard hadn't given me the full picture. But it had given me enough to know that Maisie was being cornered by somebody with an axe to grind – a female somebody with more contempt than class.
I hadn't liked it.
But I hadn't wanted to overstep – not until I'd cracked open the door and saw that Maisie was outnumbered two to one.And one of them was a guy.
The dude – whoever the hell he was – hadn't said a damn word the entire time. He'd just stood there, letting his girl do the talking for him, like a silent prop in a store window.
And now he was staring likeIwas the one with the problem.
Yeah, I had a problem, alright.And I was looking at him. It didn't take a genius to know that whatever this was, the guy wasin on it. And let's say he wasn't. Him just standing there had made him complicit.
The guy gave a hard blink. "What kind of story?"
Dumbass.Still, I kept my posture easy. "You pick."
"What?"
I gave him a moment to grow a spine before asking, "You got something to say?"
His brows tugged together like he'd been hit with a pop quiz in a language he didn't speak. "Uh...no?"
