Page 37 of A False Start
If he can tell, he doesn’t show it. “Okay. I’ll get my dog while I wait. Mira said I could get him t—now.”Today.He wanted to say today. So, we’re both back to being awkward around each other.
“Wait for what?”
He pushes through the door toward the back where Tripod is. “Got something to show you.”
He comes back with the small, white, wiggly little dog under one arm, carrying him like he’s a football. And I swear I spend the next five minutes crumbling under the silence between us, staring at the watch on my wrist, and trying not to gawk at how insanely sexy Griffin is with the small rescue dog in his lap. The one trying desperately to lick his face. The one who isn’t deterred at all by the gentle hand that continually tries to redirect his excitement.
Me too, little buddy. Me too.
“Okay!” I almost shout it, so relieved to get out of the too-quiet clinic. “I’m done. What do you need to show me?”
“We have to drive there.” Griffin doesn’t even glance up at me. He’s too enamored with his new pet. All his features have softened, and he hugs the dog to his chest protectively.
My ovaries ache. I swear they do. This big grumpy recluse, hugging a fluffy ten-pound dog? It’s more than an animal loving gal like me can handle.
“Drive where?”
“Don’t worry about it.” He glances at me. “Do you want to change?” My pink scrubs are clearly not appropriate for whatever secret field trip he has planned.
“Uh sure? Do I need riding clothes?”
“No.” He follows me out the door, still gazing down at Tripod.
I hate surprises.
“How long will this take?” I ask, entering the alarm code and locking the door behind us.
“Less long if you stop asking so many questions.” With no brim to hide behind, I can see the amusement dancing in his eyes as plain as day.
I think Griffin Sinclaire just made fun of me.
13
Griffin
We pullup in front of the building I know so well. I told Nadia to stop asking so many questions, and she has.
“I googled you.”
But clearly, she’s still going to make statements.
“What?”
“Oh, right.” She winks at me. “Google. It’s like a modern-day library where you can look things up. I’ll demonstrate it for you sometime.”
Cute. Another old joke.
I ignore the jab and hold the door open for her. “And what did you find?”
“A very enlightening poll,” she says as I direct her into the waiting elevator while staring at her ass like a perv.
I grunt and arch a brow, signalling she has my attention before jamming the button to go up a few floors.
“I found I agree with 82% of people.”
My brow furrows. “On what?”
The elevator dings, and we filter out into the hallway. I press a hand onto the small of her back, directing her to the correct door. She shivers beneath my touch, but I force myself to ignore it.
