Page 15 of Outlaw Ridge: Griff
He braced his hand against the edge of the counter and stared at the skillet, watching the eggs firm up. The sounds of the house were normal, easy. Coffee brewing, eggs sizzling, wind brushing the windows. But underneath it, tension hummed low and constant.
The fire. The tires. The threat.
And that damn photoshopped image, her face twisted in agony, meant to scare her into quitting.
It had pissed him off more than he’d let on last night. Still did. But that wasn’t the only thing on his mind this morning. The problem was the other thing.
Theheat.
It had been there from the start, simmering under the surface. He’d seen it in her eyes. Heard it in her voice. Felt it last night when she stood in his hallway in nothing but his T-shirt, vulnerable but not broken, and still somehow managing to knock the wind out of him.
They didn’t want this. Didn’t need it. No time. Too much danger. Too much at stake.
Didn’t matter though.
It was still there, burning slow.
And when she came out of that room, he’d have to look her in the eye. Pretend like he wasn’t thinking about how she’d looked in his shirt. Pretend like he wasn’t already halfway in, even if he couldn’t afford to be.
Several minutes passed. He focused on the pan, the plates, the coffee, anything to keep his thoughts straight. But the second Lily walked into the kitchen, it all went to hell.
She wore her jeans and the same gray uniform top from last night, clean now, her damp hair pulled back in a loose knot. Nothing fancy. Nothing deliberate. And yet, it still hit him hard.
A solid punch of heat low in his gut.
Griff kept his expression neutral and turned to the counter, pouring her a cup of coffee. No sugar, no creamer. He’d seen her drink it black at the station, just like he did. He handed it to her without comment.
She took it with a soft “Thanks,” and sipped. “You need help?” she asked.
He nodded toward the bread near the toaster. “You can handle the toast.”
She gave a small huff that might’ve been the beginning of a laugh. “Toast is about the limit of my culinary skills. Yours are clearly better.” She moved to the counter, sliding two slices into the toaster. “Smells good.”
Griff went back to the stove, plating the scrambled eggs and bacon, and tried to focus on anything but the way her voice sounded in his kitchen. Or how natural it felt, like she belonged here. Like they’d done this before.
They hadn’t. But the thought stuck anyway.
Griff set the plates on the island counter and forced himself to shift gears. Focus. Food. Facts.
“Hallie called me about fifteen minutes ago,” he said, taking the seat across from her and picking up his fork. “She wanted me to pass along that you’re officially off today. Offered you the whole day to rest, get your head straight.”
Lily didn’t even hesitate. “I want to work.”
He finally looked at her then, and the steel in her eyes was exactly what he expected. “I told her that’d be your answer,” he said. “Hallie didn’t bother to argue. She said she’d see us when we got in.” Which would be in about a half hour since their shift was due to start at eight.
She gave a small nod and took another sip of coffee.
“Hallie also got an initial report from the fire chief,” he added. “Thought you’d want to hear it straight.”
Lily stilled, fork hovering just above her plate.
Griff set his own fork down and leaned forward slightly. “The fire was simple. Accelerant and a few matches. No timer, no device. Old-school. Quick and dirty.”
Lily let the information settle, her mouth pulling into a tight line. “So someone walked up to my house and lit it on fire.”
“Yeah.”
“No finesse. No effort to cover it up,” she added in a mutter.
