Page 43 of Barefoot Dreams
“What?” I roll my lips, trying to act all nonchalant.
“Your phone.” He nods toward it.
“Oh, it’s okay, it’s probably just Mom sending me some new recipes.”
Griffin nods and picks his sandwich back up, taking a bite, and I do the same.
“Thank you,” he says after a few minutes. “I needed that.”
“Always.” I smile, meeting his warm gaze and we finish our meal in comfortable silence after that.
But as soon as we are done, Griffin says his goodbye, letting me know he’ll be back for another dose of that magical coffee tomorrow morning and heads out.
It was just a nice, friendly evening, Julie. Just that. No need to waste another sleepless night overthinking it. Or remembering how warm and comfortable he felt. Or how his cock felt, pressing into me through his pants.
Ugh…yeah, no chance of that.
I feel myself slipping down the path I was sure didn’t exist.
9
Not Dear Diary
There’s no going back, is there now? I’ll never not feel those lips.
I’ll never not want more.
10
Julie
“What sets you apart can sometimes feel like a burden and it’s not. And a lot of the time, it’s what makes you great.” – Emma Stone
“Morning, little J.”
“Morning, Griff. You want the usual?”
“Yes, please.” Griffin smiles, passing me his card for payment.
It’s been two weeks since he’s been over at my place, and every morning since Griffin comes by Sip of Love, orders one medium cherry-vanilla mushroom coffee and a croissant and leaves until I see him again the following morning. Occasionally, he'll stop by at the end of the day with one of my favorite orders.
It’s become a routine of his and no matter how many times I try to tell my heart to simmer down or we’ll get burned by the steam machine again, it refuses to listen, instead opting out to jump and flutter excitedly with anticipation of his visit.
I know I shouldn’t feel like that. Especially not when there’s another man in my life, but try telling that to the rascal organ. Try reasoning with my lips that still feel his.
“How was your shift yesterday?”
“It was good. I think I might be up for saving some kittens any of these days,” he says with a small tilt to his lips. The one that does so much darn damage to my insides.
“Don’t let Fanny hear you say that.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because when Noah started working there a few years back she called in every time he was on duty, complaining of smelling smoke.” I give him a look. “There was no smoke. Ever. But Noah left her house rosy-cheeked every time.” I can’t help my giggle. That poor boy did not know how to handle our local wild cat. And by the looks of it, Griffin would be just as clueless.
Then I burst out laughing.
“Please tell me that didn’t go the way my mind played it out?”
