Page 9 of The Rookie

I take a deep breath, trying—and failing—not to let my gaze linger. “Sure. Go ahead. Just don’t drip on my stuff.”

“Noted.” He winks, and my heart does an annoying little flip as he steps past me, his shoulder brushing mine.

I refuse to look. Refuse. But then, against my better judgment, my eyes betray me as he heads toward the bathroom.

It’s purely accidental. A stolen glance. A moment of weakness.

And Griffin Knox has a nice butt, which is peaking out of the towel.

Not that it does anything for me. Nope. Not one bit.

Still, for a split second—barely a heartbeat—a memory flickers to life. Back in college, after one too many margaritas, Cassie had joked that her brothers were “too hot for their own good,” and I’d stupidly let my brain wander to what Griffin might look like under all that cocky swagger. Just once.

And here he is, proving my imagination had been wildly unprepared.

But no. No. Nope. This is Cassie’s brother. My best friend’sinfuriatingbrother. I shake the thought loose before it can grow any legs.

I yank my gaze back to my bag, clenching my teeth as the bathroom door shuts behind him. The sound of the shower starting fills the room, and I let out a long, defeated sigh.

If I survive this week without strangling him—or throwing myself at him—it’ll be a miracle.

three

. . .

Griffin

The room is quiet,except for the faint sound of Avery’s voice.

I’m stretched out on my bed, staring at the ceiling and trying to block her out, but it’s impossible. She’s sitting at the little desk by the window, talking softly into her phone, and I can’t help but catch every other word as I pretend to play on my phone.

“...I know, but it’s just two weeks,” she says, her voice low and measured. “We talked about this.”

I glance over, pretending not to be interested, but the tension in her voice makes it impossible to ignore. Her shoulders are hunched, and she’s twisting a strand of hair around her finger—something I’ve only seen her do when she’s stressed.

“No, I’m not avoiding you,” she says, her tone sharpening. “I just needed this trip. It’s important for my career. For my dreams, Gavin.”

A long pause. I can practicallyhearthe guy’s voice through the phone, and I hate that it bugs me.

“No, I’m not sure if I’m going to apply to that thing in Spain. And no, there’s no one here you need to worry about,” she says,glancing over her shoulder at me. “Are you kidding me? I told you. Ihatehim.”

I smirk, lifting my hands in mock surrender."I hate you too,"I mouth.

She narrows her eyes, then flips me the finger—quick, subtle, and dripping with sarcasm. It’s all I can do not to laugh.

Turning back to the window, her voice drops lower, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. “Look, I’m not doing this right now,” she mutters. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Another pause. Then, softer: “Goodnight.”

She sets the phone down on the desk, staring out the window for a moment like she’s trying to collect herself.

“Trouble in paradise?” I ask, breaking the silence.

Her head snaps around, eyes flashing. “Were youeavesdropping?”

“Hard not to,” I say, propping myself up on one elbow. “Thin walls.”

“You meannowalls.”

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