Page 18 of The Rookie

The vendor smiles and shakes her head. “Aquí, no.”

“Gracias,” I say, turning to move on, but Griffin stops me.

“Let me try,” he says, stepping forward.

Before I can protest, he launches into a string of rapid, surprisingly fluent Spanish, his tone easy and confident. The vendor’s face lights up, and she points us in the direction of another stall down the street.

I blink at him as we start walking again.

“What?” he says, noticing my expression.

“Since when do you speak Spanish?”

“Since always,” he says, shrugging. “You think I signed up for this trip for the Instagram pics? You severely underestimate me, Sinclair.”

I roll my eyes. “I didn’t realize you could do anything useful.”

“Oh, I’m full of surprises, Princess,” he says, his grin widening. “You’ll learn that.”

We reach the next stall, where Griffin again chats easily with the vendor, who hands us the exact ceramic bird we need. He even gets her to knock a couple of pesos off the price, which earns him another glare from me.

“Are you mad because I’m good at this, or because you’re not?” he asks as we walk away.

“Neither,” I snap, clutching the ceramic bird like it’s a weapon.

The next task involves taking a picture with a street performer, and Griffin insists on hamming it up, dragging me into the frame despite my protests.

“Smile, Princess,” he says, slinging an arm around my shoulders as the performer snaps the picture.

I shove his arm off as soon as the photo is taken, but not before I catch a whiff of his stupidly good cologne.

By the time we get to the final task—finding a specific type of street food—I’m ready to strangle him. But as we approach the food stall, I trip on a loose cobblestone, stumbling forward.

Before I can hit the ground, Griffin’s hand shoots out, grabbing my arm and steadying me.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice softer than usual.

“I’m fine,” I mutter, pulling away quickly. My face feels hot, and I refuse to look at him as we finish the task.

We turn in our completed sheet to Fernando, who beams at us. “Team Five! You did great!”

Griffin leans down, grinning at me with that easy, infuriating charm. “See? We make a good team.”

I glare at him, trying to ignore the way his smile lights up his entire face. “Don’t push it.”

He just laughs, his deep, rich chuckle sending an annoying flutter through my chest, and I storm off, silently vowing to never let him catch me off guard again.

I just hate that the more time I spend with him, the more attracted to him I am, despite how hard I fight it.

This is Cassie’s brother we’re talking about. He’s supposed to be off-limits. And even if he wasn’t my best friend’s brother, I have a boyfriend.

I’m just going to have to pretend I didn’t notice how ridiculously hot he looked getting out of the shower this morning. Like, unfairly hot. His wet hair, messy and sticking to his forehead in a way that made him look both rugged and boyish. The sharp lines of his jaw and cheekbones, accentuated by the morning light. And those abs—God, those abs.I swear they’re so defined you could use them as a roadmap.

And then, as if that wasn’t bad enough, my mind betrays me.

I remember.

The towel. Slipping. Hitting the floor. Leaving everything on display.

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