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His lips twist—in amusement or anger, I can’t tell.
He tosses the box into the bag and slides it down the length of my counter out of our way. Pressing both hands on the now still conveyor belt, he leans over so we’re almost at eye level. His gaze drops to my chest—of course it does. Remembering the alternative he offered to coming in my mouth the other night makes me squirm. I wish I’d worn my sweatshirt over the deep-cut T-shirt with the store’s logo on it tonight. The apron I have to wear doesn’t provide adequate chest coverage.
“Please let me apologize.”
“For calling me a bitch?” I lean in and lower my voice. “Or assuming I’d want to blow you? Or for your charming offer to come on my tits?”
He groans. “Can you blame me?” He sweeps his gaze over my chest again.
“I don’t care.”
“I’ve always liked you.”
Weird way to show it. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
“You were Wade’s friend.” He shrugs. “I don’t know. And you were a couple grades below me.”
“So why bother now, when you’re away at school?” Something ugly dawns on me. “You think I’ll be your hometown hook-up when you’re not drilling sorority girls on campus.”
A flash of guilt widens his eyes and his lips part. Yup, that was his plan.
“Not at all,” he scoffs, and shakes his head.
“Really?” I cross my arms over my chest. “You seemed to think that was all I was good for at Hayden’s party.”
“Come on,” he groans. “Okay, okay. I guess I was a jerk the other night. Now I’m trying to say I’m sorry,” he says, as if I’m the unreasonable one. “And…” He pauses like he’s about to offer something really great I shouldn’t miss. “Maybe ask you out. I’ll be home all weekend.”
I open my mouth to laugh in his face.
“She’s got plans,” a deep, menacing rumble announces from my right.
Wesley honest-to-God jumps and lets out a short, strangled scream. It would be funny if my body wasn’t going haywire.
Griff.
I turn my helpless eyes to him, standing less than a foot away from Wesley. All six feet, three inches of muscle glowering down at Wesley like he’s ready to turn my checkout lane into his own personal cage match. Well, no, it wouldn’t be much of a match. Griff could probably knock Wesley down with his pinky finger. Wesley played basketball in high school. He’s tall and lean, but not lethal.
My heart thumps wildly as I take in Griff’s expression. He towers over Wesley by a few inches. Wesley pulls himself up to his full height and slides his hands over his neatly tucked shirt. With a sneer, he runs his gaze over Griff’s leather jacket, jeans, and work boots.
“Do I know you?” Wesley finally says.
Ignoring the question, Griff flicks his gaze to me, his eyes and expression warming immediately. “You almost done, baby?”
Baby. I’m going to melt into a puddle where I’m standing. I turn and glance at the clock on the wall behind my register. “I still have a few minutes.”
I grab Wesley’s carton of milk and stick it in the bag with the cereal. “I told you I have a boyfriend.” I shove the bag at him. “Have a good night.”
“But I’m not done talking to you,” Wesley protests.
Griff did his version of polite. Wesley didn’t take the hint. Now, Griff will use a different approach. I already sense it coming.
Griff steps so close to Wesley, I couldn’t slide a piece of paper between them if I wanted to.
“Molly’s done talking to you.” Griff jabs his finger in the air toward the large plate-glass window behind the row of registers. “Parking lot is that way.” He curls his hand into the edge of the paper bag, rolling it down. “You need help to carry this little baggie to your vehicle?”
Why couldn’t Griff have been with me the other night?
“No.” Wesley scoops the bag into both arms, cradling it to his chest. He throws a disgusted scowl at me, then marches out the door.
