Page 125 of Dating Goals
“What are you doing?” I ask nervously.
“Playing chicken,” Griffin replies, then floors it.
We hurtle toward the motorcycle, which is barreling toward us in the middle of the bridge. At the last possible second, the rider panics and swerves, losing control on the narrow bridge. The motorcycle skids sideways, then topples over the edge into the icy river below with a splash.
Griffin regains control, slowing the car to a reasonable speed as we merge onto a main road. The James Bond theme reaches its crescendo as he calmly turns down a side street and kills the lights.
“And that,” he says, turning to me with a satisfied grin, “is how you lose a tail.”
My heart hammers against my ribs. I’m not sure if it’s from the chase, the near-death experience, or the man beside me looking unfairly handsome while committing multiple traffic violations.
“You’re insane,” I tell him, but can’t keep the admiration from my voice.
“Maybe,” he agrees, reaching over to trace his thumb down my cheek. “But ya gotta admit. I’m more fun than Thomas, right?”
I bite my lip to keep from smiling. “The bar is very low.”
Griffin’s expression softens. “Sorry about crashing your date.”
“No, you’re not.”
“You’re right,” he chuckles. “I’m really not.”
Deeming it safe again, Griffin casually rolls onto the road that leads toward Grächen.
“You’ll stay with me tonight,” he says, serious now. “It’s not safe for you to go home.”
The Bugatti’s headlights illuminate the snow-dusted path as we approach Griffin’s cabin. My bare feet are propped on the dashboard, my body still vibrating with leftover adrenaline.
The dark silhouettes of pine trees seem like a secret hideaway after the madness of the evening. Secluded, and blessedly free of motorcycle-riding henchmen.
“You’re sure more assassins didn’t follow us?” I ask, scanning the shadows.
“Positive.” Griffin kills the engine. “Though I’m pretty sure Thomas is still yammering on and on to an empty chair.”
I snort. “Poor Ivy. She’ll never forgive me.”
Griffin jogs around to my side, opening the passenger door. “Let’s get you inside before your toes freeze.”
Without warning, he scoops me up in his arms. I yelp in surprise. “What are you doing?”
“Being chivalrous,” he announces proudly. “You’re barefoot, there’s snow on the ground, and I’m a gentleman.”
“You really don’t have to carry me,” I mumble into his shoulder, though I make no attempt to wiggle free. His arms feel secure around me, and after tonight’s excitement, I find myself relaxing into his hold.
Griffin carries me to the front door, fumbling with his keys while still holding me. It takes three attempts before he manages to unlock it, and I bite back a smile at his determination not to put me down.
The cabin glows with welcoming warmth when Griffin pushes the door open. He sets me down gently on the braided rug just inside, his hands lingering at my waist a moment longer than necessary.
Griffin moves efficiently around the cabin, turning on lamps, adjusting the thermostat.
“You should probably call your mom,” Griffin says. “Those guys might try your place next.”
My stomach drops. I hadn’t thought about that. “I left my phone at Ivy’s.”
“Use my phone. It’s on the counter.”
I dial my mother’s number from memory, praying she answers. She answers on the first ring.
