Page 50 of The Wrong Sister

I answer by scooping her up into my arms and taking her to my bed.

30

mina

Mornings at Griffin’s apartment are very different from mornings at mine. I like to wake slowly. I take my time drinking my coffee and getting ready; I ease into the day. Even on workdays, I get up early enough that I don’t have to rush through my morning. Griffin merely opens his eyes and he’s ready for the day. Even on Sunday. I feel like a zombie and probably look like one. He’s bright-eyed and has already bounded, literally bounded like a fucking gazelle or something, into his kitchen to start the coffee. Normally I’d shower as part of my becoming-a-functioning-human-being routine, but I’m not at home and I don’t even have clothes with me. I didn’t think any of this through. Stupid lust. I should try to be a little more sensible.

My man strolls in, sexy as fuck in his low-slung drawstring pants, and slaps my ass in a way that is not so much hot as it is annoyingly energetic. “Rise and shine, lady o’ mine!”

“That was terrible. Seriously. Gross. You should be ashamed of yourself.” He grins at me, not even bothered by my bad attitude. “Why am I awake right now? You kept me up too late with all of the sexing.”

“Sorry baby, I thought you were already up.” I feel like I should complain loudly in Independent Woman about him calling me baby but I have to admit I like it.A lot. “Do you want to go back to sleep?”

“Can’t now. Already awake.” I groan loudly, burying my head under the pillow.

“There’s coffee in the kitchen. Why don’t you hop in the shower? I can take your keys and run over to your apartment to grab stuff if that would help.”

I peek out from under the pillow, taking in his easy smile and yummy morning scruff. I sit up, forcing myself to be a fraction more conscious. “Thatwouldbe helpful. Could I make you a list? I don’t need much.”

He nods and strides out of the room, returning with a notepad, pen, and a mug of coffee. He sits on the edge of the bed and I scoot forward, sliding my legs across his lap. Resting a warm hand on my shin, he runs it lightly over my skin. The automatic, easy affection feels as if a missing part of me is suddenly filled, unexpectedly complete. His free hand on my skin, caressing me absentmindedly while he jots down what I need, is filling a void I had been gingerly avoiding, like babying a sore muscle. This is dangerous and I hate to admit it’s already too late. I couldn’t walk away now even if I wanted to. I’ve been willingly and wholly ensnared, even without the assurance of safety or security.

“You drink your coffee, I’ll write.”

I dictate my items between sips of dark wake-me-up nectar. I will never admit it to him, but his coffee is better than mine. Griffin pulls on a shirt, drops a kiss on the top of my head, and leaves. I’m wrapping myself in a towel when he returns with a bag for me. I’ll be glad to use my deodorant and put on clean clothes. I emerge from the steamy bathroom to find Griffin finishing making his bed. He’s Mr. Orderly and Tidy. I like it and I also kind of want to mess shit up, to screw with him. Muss his hair, knock a pillow on the floor, something small and annoying that would probably drive him nuts. I don’t. For now. But file that away for the future.

After breakfast we take that next big step in our relationship: he gives me his wi-fi password. I sit on the couch next to him with my laptop, needing to do a little work. Checking my email, I find the message I was hoping would be there. I’ve been working on something on the side, not for CWS, and the last pieces are finally falling into place. There’s a sweet little girl on the windward side, Halia, that I met on a call. In their case, it was a mean neighbor who reported them and after meeting with them and interviewing Halia and her parents, it was easy to determine that the accusations were unwarranted. We kept in touch, though, because they’re such sweet people. They throw a kick-ass New Years’ carport party! Recently Halia was diagnosed with leukemia. She’s a fighter though and we’re hopeful that she’ll beat it. In the meantime, her ‘ohana and the greater community have rallied around them.

One of their friends had the idea of doing a head-shaving event like St. Baldrick’s does for cancer research, but to raise money to help the family with expenses. I immediately volunteered to coordinate the event. The main draw is going to be their family friend, Ka‘eo Maheloha1. He’s a big, intimidating-looking native guy with long, envy-inducing, curly black hair. Ka‘eo is a well-known photographer and an all-around fun guy. He’s also been friends with Halia’s family going way back. Donations are pouring in to have his wife, Norah, a naval officer, shave his head. They have a pretty big following on Instagram and the exposure from his shave alone is going to immensely help the family with donations. I’ve been waiting to hear back from him.

The email has a list of names and a tentative date but it’s not exactly what I was hoping for. It doesn’t necessarily surprise me though. Ka‘eo is a spontaneous guy and the administrative side of things is not his strong suit. I grab my phone and try a video call. Surprisingly, he answers right away.

“Is this Mina in the flesh? Howzit? Good to see you!”

“Hey, K! Sorry to call on a Sunday, but I want to get rolling on this shave event and figured it would be faster to talk rather than keep emailing back and forth.”

“You know that’s better for me anyway. I fucking hate emails.” He turns and looks off-camera, that long hair swinging over his shoulder. Another face appears in the frame: bright green eyes, tons of freckles, and a badass blonde pixie cut.

“Hi, Mina! Didn’t mean to interrupt. I was bringing over some coffee and heard your voice. Just wanted to say hello!”

“Hey, Norah! You’re welcome to sit in. I wanted to chat with your husband about the head shaving.”

“I’m so excited! And nervous. We will do anything to get as much money for Halia as possible. I’m excited about that! But I’m a little sad to see his mane go. I’ve never seen my man without all this hair!”

“Luckily, K would look hot no matter what. I don’t think you have to worry.”

“Hey!” Griffin calls from the other end of the couch. “Boyfriend sitting right here, Meens.” My stomach does a little flip.Boyfriend. Nice.

Norah and K get wide-eyed, twin mischievous grins on their faces. These two are trouble and I love it. They’re my kind of people.

“Boyfriend? Get him on screen! What if we don’t approve? It’s gonna be real awkward if you have to dump him on this video chat,” K jokes. Griffin slides over next to me, putting his face close to mine. “Ah, no way! Griffin Simms? Howzit, brah? It’s been years!”

“Ka‘eo!” Griffin smiles, tossing up a shaka.

“How do you guys know each other?” I ask Griffin.

Ka‘eo answers. “Surfing! How did you two meet?”

“We grew up together. Lived across the street from each other actually.”

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