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Griff hums Happy Birthday to me as we walk around the Malibu.
Happiness explodes in my chest as my gaze slides over every inch of my beautiful car. “It’s done.”
“Well, there will always be something to tweak or swap.” Griff swipes his hands on a rag and grins at me. “But for now, yes.”
“Just in time for spring break.” I jump and throw my arms around his shoulders. He catches me around the waist, lifting me.
Eagerly, I kiss his cheek, his beard stubble a slight sting against my lips. He turns and his plush lips land on mine, easing the brief sting.
He lifts me higher, breaking our kiss for a moment. Our mouths collide again. I press harder and he groans against my lips, giving me room to slide the tip of my tongue against his.
Still holding me, Griff walks the few feet to the car, pinning me against the driver’s side door. I wrap my legs around him, anchoring myself. His mouth melts against mine. I flick my tongue against his, savoring his familiar taste.
Between our clothes and coveralls there are too many barriers in our way. Certain he has me, I slide my hand to his chest and tug at the zipper.
He pulls back, his lips shiny and tilting up at the corners. “What are you doing?”
“It’s hot.” I pull at the thick zipper harder.
“You’re hot.” He sets me on my feet and drags my zipper down the front of my coveralls. They’re practically pristine next to his, loudly announcing which one of us actually works on cars and which one tinkers with them.
While I wriggle out of the stiff pants, Griff takes a few steps back and sheds his coveralls. He scoops mine up and sets both on the bench. I lean against the car and crook my finger. “Please come back here.”
He scoops me into his arms and spins us in a slow circle. “Don’t you want to take it for a ride?”
“I want to take you for a ride.” I laugh and kiss him again. “In the back seat. Watching you work hard all day has me worked up.”
“You worked hard too.” He carries me to the back of the car and sets me on the trunk. “Let me close the garage door. We don’t want spectators.”
“Hurry.” I tease the bottom of my tank top up over my stomach.
Outside, a loud grumbly engine pulls into the parking lot. A small rusty pickup truck that looks like it’s being held together with duct tape and coat hangers screeches to a stop.
Griff frowns and moves to the edge of the garage. “We’re not open, sir.” He edges sideways, blocking my view of the unexpected visitor.
“Are ya sure?” a man says.
“Yup. I’m closing now.”
“That’s too bad.” There’s a scraping of feet against gravel.
This guy can’t take a hint.
“I really need something,” he says.
Griff lets out a weary sigh. “What is it? If it’s something small, I can probably?—”
I lean sideways to see what made Griff stop.
A skinny, dirty-looking man in tattered jeans and a hole-filled sleeveless shirt thrusts both hands forward. A black pistol’s held in his tight grip. Aimed right at Griff’s face. “I need you and your little girlfriend to back the fuck up.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Griff
“Are you sure you want to do this, man?” I say in a low, calm tone.
Behind me, Molly scrambles off the car, landing with a squeak against the concrete. Instead of putting distance between herself and the gun-waving lunatic, she rushes to my side.
